‘And they—’ she could not say wives—
‘Fear not; they will be prepared to receive thee with honour. I have spoken with them, and bidden them be ready to welcome thee.’
‘Alla bless them!’ said Ameena, the tears starting to her eyes; ‘and will they be kind to one whom they ought to hate? Alla bless them! I did not look for this, but expected much misery.’
‘Fear not,’ said the Khan, who winced under her artless remark, yet dared not undeceive her. ‘Fear not, they will be kind to thee; Inshalla! ye will be sisters together.’ Alas, he had but little hope of this, though he said it. But it is necessary to revert to the ladies themselves.
The Khan’s two wives sat in anxious expectation of the arrival of the lady for whom they had dispatched the servant; they had held a hurried colloquy together after the Khan’s departure in the morning, and had come to the resolution of abiding by the advice of the mother of Kummoobee, who was the wife of the head Kazee of Seringapatam, a wealthy but corrupt man, who, of good family himself, had married the daughter of a poor gentleman of long descent but of extreme poverty. She inherited all her father’s pride of birth, and had married her daughter to the Khan, only because of his rank and known wealth; for she despised his low origin, which had become known to her—indeed it was not sought to be concealed.
As the ladies waited, they heard the sound of bearers, and in a few moments the jingle of the anklets and heavy tread of the old lady, as she advanced along the open verandah of the court which led to their apartment. They rose to welcome her, and the next moment she entered, and advanced towards her daughter—almost starting as she saw the Khan’s other wife, knowing that they had been enemies; but returning her salaam very courteously, she proceeded to take the evil from her daughter by cracking her knuckles over her. Having done this, and embraced, she was led to the musnud; and being seated thereon, and her daughter’s hooka given to her, she drew a long breath as if she had exerted herself very much, and looking from one to the other (for the slaves had been ordered out of the room), demanded to know what they had to say to her.
‘We have news for thee, mother,’ said Kummoo-bee pettishly.
‘Ay, news, rare news!’ added the other, who seemed as spiteful as suppressed anger could make her.
‘Ajaib!’ said the old lady, looking from one to the other, ‘wonderful news? By your souls, tell me what news: what has happened that I know not of?’
‘Of the Khan,’ said Kummoo, edging nearer to her mother.