Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 1/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
When Gobind Lâl returned to the house Bhramar asked him, "Why have you stayed so late in the garden to-night?"
Gobind. "Why do you ask? Do I never do so?"
Bhramar. "You do—but to-day—from your look and from the sound of your voice, it seems to me that something has happened."
Gobind. "What has happened?"
Bhramar. "Nay, if you don't say, how should I tell you? Was I there?"
Gobind. "Can't you tell from that look you speak of?"
Bhramar. "Put aside that nonsense! It is not a nice way to speak, that I can tell from your face. But tell me the truth, I feel greatly troubled in mind." As she spoke tears fell from Bhomrâ's eyes. Gobind Lâl, drying her tears and caressing her, said, "One day I will tell you, Bhramar, not to-day."
"Why not to-day?"
"You are still a child, and such matters are not fit for your ears."
"Shall I be old by to-morrow?"
"I shall not tell you to-morrow. You shall know in two years' time. Ask nothing further to-day, Bhramar."
Bhramar uttered a deep sigh. "Let it be so. Tell me after two years. I had a great desire to know, but if you won't tell me, how shall I hear about it? I feel very much upset."
How was it that the darkness of a heavy sorrow fell on Bhomrâ's mind? As in a spring sky, fair, blue, bright, nothing to be seen anywhere, suddenly a cloud arising darkens the whole heavens; Bhomrâ felt as though in her breast a cloud had arisen and filled it with gloom. Her eyes filled with tears, but she thought, "I am crying without a cause; I am very wicked; my husband will be angry." So, still weeping, she went out of the room, sat down in a couch, stretched out her feet, and began to read "Annadâ Mangal."[1] I cannot say how much she read of it, but the black cloud in her breast was in no way dispersed.
- ↑ "Annadâ Mangal," a famous Bengali poem, written by Bhârat Chandra Râi towards the close of the seventeenth century.