Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

"We cannot prevent men's eyes wandering to that sweet face," she said to Radha, as she gently waved a fan over Tara, who still slept heavily, "no more than I can prevent them looking at me if they like, or thee, Radha; but we can protect her from insult and shame, and she is too pure to be approached or spoken to. No; he may look as he pleases, but he dare not speak to her: for thy sake, for the sake of his own honour and station as a priest, he dare not; and his looks she shall not fear—I will prevent them."

"Nevertheless," replied Radha, "let her not visit the temple for several days to come, or, if she goes, we will both accompany her. This will give her fresh assurance, and in a few days he will be gone."

Radha, however, knew her brother well—better than Anunda. She knew that, with any scheme against Tara in view, no matter what it might be, she was incapable of watching him so completely as to defeat his intentions; but she could at least be wary, and gain information of them, and a small purse of money with which Anunda supplied her, given to Chimna, gained her constant information of her brother's movements, such as she could not otherwise have obtained.

Moro Trimmul, however, to all appearance ceased to pursue Tara. For several days she did not visit the temple. She herself feared collision with him, and kept away. But gradually, a sense of neglect of her daily duty, the loss of the satisfaction which had resulted from it, and the dread of offending the terrible Being in whose exacting service she believed,—wrought on her mind so as to render inaction intolerable.

And no wonder now. Her own small household tasks, which had previously occupied her leisure hours, had been resigned to Radha; the temple service required her presence for the greater part of the morning and afternoon; and her studies, and some needful rest, absorbed the remainder of the day. Now that she remained idle at home, therefore, the time hung heavy on her hands, and she sighed for the occupation and excitement which had become habitual to her; while the yearning to serve "the Mother"—never to be absent from her—grew stronger and stronger day by day, with a fascination she could not resist. Day by day those weird, glowing, eerie eyes seemed to follow her about, seek her in her sleep, and by turns threaten or entreat her.

"Mother," she said at last, and after a few days had passed in restless idleness at home, "I feel that my life here is not what it was. The Mother's eyes follow me, and she sits at my heart day and night. Why dost thou not come to me, Tara? she says; fear not, but come; no one dare harm thee, and I would have thee near me. This she whispers daily when my time of service comes, and I am here and not with her. O mother, I fear no longer; she gives me strength, and I will go. What can he do to me? The dread of him is gone from me."

"We will go with thee, daughter," replied Anunda, "and remain with thee daily. Before us, he dare neither look nor speak; and perhaps, too, thy suspicions were misplaced."

"Perhaps," she replied; "and why should he do me wrong? I should be sorry if I had thought ill of him without a cause."

So they went. The first day Moro Trimmul was not there. On the second they met him, and received his distant and courteous salutation. He did not even come to speak to his sister, and turned away directly. Gunga was present on both occasions; and on the first day Tara was surprised, and perhaps somewhat gratified, by the manner in which she and some of her sisterhood met her; offered her garlands of flowers, even put them into her hands, and tied them like bracelets round her arms, and into her hair.