Krishnakanta's Will (Chatterjee, Roy)/Part 1/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
Bhramar could get no sleep at all, and she passed a very anxious and restless night. Before morning dawned she engaged herself in writing a letter to her husband. When she was married she was an unfledged and unlettered girl of eight. Her husband taught her how to read and write; but she was never an apt pupil, and consequently she had not been able to make any very great progress. However, she could read and write tolerably well. This day as she wrote she blotted and blundered much, for she felt very uneasy in her mind.
Her letter we give below in a readable form.
"That day when you returned from the garden after eleven o'clock at night, I inquired what made you stay away till so late as that. You refused to tell me. When I insisted on knowing you said you would tell me, but not until a couple of years had passed. But I have got your secret. I wish I had never known it. Rohini called yesterday to show me the cloth and the ornaments you have given her. Such a wicked impudent woman she is. She did it to hurt and insult me, I know. But I bore with her and let her go unharmed.
"What will you say now? I had unbounded faith in you, you know I had. My heart is broken. I wish we should not meet when you come. Would you kindly drop a line to say when you are going to come home? I request this favour because I want to go to my father's house before your return home. I shall know how to get your uncle to consent to my going."
In due course Gobindalal received his wife's letter. When he had read it, he was as much pained as surprised. It was like a bolt from the blue. The language in which it was couched made him for a moment doubt that it was written by his wife. But there could be no question about it, for he well knew her hand.
By the same post there had come a few more letters which be afterwards opened and read one after the other. Among these was one from Brahmananda, who wrote as follows:—
My Dear Sir,
I am obliged to communicate with you on a very painful subject. A rumour is afloat (though I do not believe one word of it) that you are in a criminal intrigue with my niece, Rohini, and that you have given seven thousand rupees' worth of ornaments to her. This is scandalous, and injurious to us. But who do you think the inventor of it is? Would yon believe me? They name your wife. I was astonished to hear it, for I never dreamed of any harm from your quarter. I am a poor man and have ever lived under the protection of your uncle. I communicate my grievance to you, and I earnestly hope that you will do justice in the matter.
Yours sincerely
Gobindalal was amazed. Bhramar had fabricated this? Was it possible? The more he pondered over it the more perplexed he was. At length he decided that he must at once start for home. So he told his naib, and, through him, his tenantry that he was going home the next day, the pretext put forward being that the climate of the place did not agree with his health. Accordingly a boat was got ready, and on the following day Gobindalal started homeward with his attendants.