"No, Moro, there is nothing there but the town and the temple. O Holy Mother!" continued Radha, stretching out her hands to it, "save him; save my brother! I vow to thee——"
"Make no vows for me, Radha," he said to her, sharply catching her arm; "she is my enemy; I know it. She loves Tara better than me; she will not give her to me. I asked her for Tara long ago; see what has come of it. I have done all the secret rites that her worship enjoins, but she is not content; she mocks me, and when I look at her eyes they glitter with malice. To-day she seemed to glower at me from among the smoke, and Tara was there offering flowers. They both mocked me. Yes, they are devils; but I fear them no more, Radha. May her house be desolate, and her shrine desecrated."
"Hush, brother!" cried the girl, putting her hand before his mouth, to stop what she believed to be horrible and deadly blasphemy. "Hush! what if she heard you? O Mother, gentle Mother, forgive him this madness. I vow to thee——"
"You will make me curse you, Radha," he said, again grasping her arm violently. "Did I not tell you I would have no vows to her, liar and murderess as she is? Yes, I see it now. You, too, are one with them, and are come to mock me; and yet, Radha," he continued, looking at her tenderly, "was this good of you after all I have done for you? O, faithless!"
"Moro," returned Radha, weeping sorely, and sobbing so that she could hardly speak, "I am not faithless. I am true to you, even to death, my brother."
"Good," he said gravely; but again fixing his eyes upon her, so that she could hardly bear his intense gaze. "True? Ah, yes, if all are false, Radha should be true—true to him and to me. Now, listen," he continued, slowly and impressively, "if thou art true, tell Tara I am in fear of her charm; bid her look kindly on me—bid her put it away from her breast. I will kiss her feet; I will daily measure with my body every step she takes round the shrine, so that she give me one kind look,—so that I see that love in her eyes which is burning in me day and night—day and night.
"But that is not all," he resumed, after a pause. "Am I mad? Dost thou think me so for this raving? By the gods, no! Only for her. Let her look to herself. And I say to thee calmly, sister, thou must say all this to-night, else beware! Listen, I have but one desire in life, that is Tara—one object only to live for, that is Tara. I plead nothing, I say nothing, only that I am not mad.
"Now, listen again. You have much to live for—the pleasures of life, the enjoyments of wealth—honour as the wife of Vyas Shastree,—children to come, and your husband's love, with your children's; but remember, Radha, they are all in my hand. A word from me to him, and you are sunk lower than the Moorlees. All this joy will pass from you. He will cast you out, and I will not shelter you. You shall be worse than the vilest, and men shall mock you. By ——" and he swore a horrible curse, "I will do this and more, Radha, if you refuse. Answer me, girl," and he shook her violently and painfully in his passion.
"Moro!" cried his sister, gasping for breath, "listen. I said once before you might kill me if it pleased you, and I bared my breast to you. Now again, if you dare to look at it without shame, it is before you. But, listen to my words, I will do no treachery; no, brother, no treachery. I am of the same blood and the same spirit as yourself, and you well know I could be true and fearless once, and so may God and the Mother help me, I will be fearless now in a better cause. Yes, strike," she continued, as, without speaking, he hastily raised himself, seized a naked dagger that was concealed under his pillow, and brandished it with one hand, while he pressed her down with his knee, and held her forcibly against the wall with the other. "Strike! your blow will be more merciful than your words," and she shut her eyes, expecting the stroke, yet not flinching from it.
"Stay—hold!" cried a shrill woman's voice, as a hasty rustling of silken garments was heard for an instant between the door and the bed, and Moro Trimmul's hand was seized in a powerful grasp; "wouldst thou do murder? Shame on thee, and she thy sister!"