"You still call him elder brother?" she asked. "What nonsense! Call him
younger brother now, and pull his ears and cease him, for he has married
me, your younger sister."
Then I understood. My husband had been saved from that great sin. He
had not fallen.
I knew my Dada had determined never to marry. And, since my mother had
died, there was no sacred wish of hers to implore him to wedlock. But
I, his sister, by my sore need bad brought it to pass. He had married
for my sake.
Tears of joy gushed from my eyes, and poured down my cheeks. I tried,
but I could not stop them. Dada slowly passed his fingers through my
hair. Hemangini clung to me, and went on laughing.
I was lying awake in my bed for the best part of the night, waiting with
straining anxiety for my husband's return. I could not imagine how he
would bear the shock of shame and disappointment.
When it was long past the hour of midnight, slowly my door opened. I
sat up on my bed, and listened. They were the footsteps of my husband.
My heart began to beat wildly.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167