The Slave Girl of Agra/Book 4/Chapter 7
VII. THE JASMINE BRACELET
"Noren," spoke Hemlata, gently and softly, as the soldier was leaving the temple and walking out into the moonlight.
Norendra Nath stopped. He turned and looked at the figure in the shadow. His eyes remained fixed, and a tremor shook his frame. He saw the face he had seen in his boyhood at Birnagar, and had dreamt of in many lonely nights in many distant lands. He saw the figure now grown to the full bloom and beauty of womanhood. He saw the marble brow and those gentle, speaking eyes which he had never, never forgotten. One wild exclamation escaped his lips, and he stretched out his arms to her whose thoughts filled his life.
Hemlata stepped back a little. Noren remembered the place where he stood, and the gulf which divided him from her who stood before. He remained abashed and silent. Hemlata spoke gently and calmly.
"Noren, we meet to-night after many years. We were playmates as children and dreamt many dreams together, but serious life is before us now. Thy work as a soldier is ended, and thy duties as a Zemindar call thee to thy home. I am wedded to one of the truest and best of men, Heaven will help me to be a true and devoted wife."
What could Noren say in reply. The soft, gentle words of Hemlata cut like a knife into his heart. The tall, slender, beautiful woman, the dream of his love and the joy of his life, stood before him. She was the wedded wife of another man. With cold lips Noren replied:
"I know my duties in life, Hemlata, and I shall try to remember them. But the memory of the past will linger as a shadow over my life."
"The memory of the past lingers with all, Noren. But it should not overshadow such a life as thine. Raja Man Singh hath found in thee a brave soldier, and the great Badshah hath honoured thee. I have heard of thy fame from time to time, and my heart has been filled with gladness and pride."
"Fame speaks too partially, Hemlata. I wish with all my heart I was worthier of the regard thou hast for me. But it is a sad trade, the trade of a soldier, and the best of us are tainted with the cruelties and the coarse pleasures of a camp life. I claim to be no better than the rest, Hemlata, and may Heaven forgive my many sins. But Heaven is my witness, in all my wanderings and in all my weaknesses, the pure image of one, whom I—I knew in my boyhood, has been a saving grace to me."
"Thou couldst not have had a greater protection, Noren, than thy own nobility and truth. I saw it in thy heart when thou wert a boy; I read it on thy face now that thou art a man. Live up to thy own nature, Noren, and to the duties and responsibilities of thy race and birth."
"They are great indeed, Hemlata, and thy mother, who was a mother to me after I lost my own, never forgot to impress on me the duties of my House."
"My mother resides in this town now, and will pass the remainder of her life in devotions, for my father is dead. I am alone on earth," said Hemlata, with a sob. "Nay, not alone, for my noble husband helps me to bear my bereavement, and sister Saibalini is a soul of truth and of love. And thou, Noren, wilt come with us to Bengal, and wilt often be with us, wilt thou not?"
Noren was silent. To refuse that gentle, weeping woman's request would be cruelty; to return to Bengal with her was more than Noren had courage to do. "Be happy, Hemlata," he said at last, "in thy home and amidst thy duties. Mine may call me elsewhere."
"Nay, thy work as a soldier has ended, and a home and loving friends await thee at Birnagar."
"Birnagar was my home, Hemlata. I scarcely know if it is mine yet."
"It is thy home, Noren. My husband has carefully guarded thy property as his own, and the Emperor of Agra, so I have heard, has passed his royal orders to restore thy ancestral estate to thee."
"The Emperor has ever been most gracious, and thy husband has been more than a brother to me. I misjudged him once. I did him wrong; he has forgiven me nobly and served me kindly and faithfully. Would I were worthier of his kindness, that I could return his kindness!" Noren could say no more to Sirish's wife, but it was gall and wormwood to him that the man he could have struck down on the spot in his jealous rage was his best friend and benefactor on earth.
"Return his kindness then by coming with us to Bengal. He will rejoice to meet one whom he has ever loved and esteemed, and I shall try to make thee happy, as a loving sister may." There was a tremor in Hemlata's voice as she spoke.
Noren's thoughts struggled for utterance. But there were things which he could not say to a wedded wife—the wife of Sirish. "Give me time," he could only say, "to think about this."
"Thou didst not ask for time, Noren, when I asked thee to do a thing for me when I was a girl. Hast thou changed since, or am I not the same?"
"Circumstances have changed, Hemlata, since we were children," coldly replied Noren.
Hemlata's eyes were filled with tears. Noren felt he had treated her coldly, and yet he did not know how to speak his thoughts.
"I have met thee," he said at last, "after nine years, and I would not cause thee a pang, Hemlata. But thou knowest not, thou canst not comprehend the sacrifice which thou dost demand of me."
"A woman knows something of sacrifices," said Hemlata, softly.
"There were some things which I did not wish to speak of to-night, Hemlata, nor wouldst thou understand if I spoke. Thou hast loved me as a sister, but hast never known the tumult of a deeper emotion, the agony of a hopeless feeling, the breaking of a strong heart. Thy pure untainted heart has not felt what I have felt, a woman's soft nature cannot endure what I have endured. Live thou in peace, Hemlata, and let me endure and live apart."
"A woman can endure much, Noren," spoke Hemlata, calmly.
"Thou wilt drive me mad, Hemlata. In thy innocence thou canst not see, thou canst not feel, the agony which a man suffers when hopes are gone, when life is a blank."
"A woman sees much and feels much, Noren," said Hemlata, gently.
"If thou knowest all, wouldst thou still consign me to a life of disappointment, a life of torture, in those ancient halls and familiar scenes where everything will remind me of the past? Live a happy and devoted wife in thy husband's home, Hemlata, let me live far away from scenes which I dare not re-visit. Perhaps, when the hair is grey on my head, and the memory of the past has faded like a troubled vision, we may see each other once more. And thou wilt then tend a feeble old man with a sister's care, and see him close his eyes in peace."
"Thou hast spoken, my brother Noren, and spoken sadly. Listen to me for awhile, though it is but a woman who speaks. There are women on earth who have perhaps endured what thou hast endured, and yet tried to do their duty in life. It seems to me, Noren, that there is One who has ordained to us our different tasks, and who expects us to labour in the fields. He has prepared for us. We mortals talk of our petty feelings and jealousies and vain desires, but methinks we live our life best if we do our own ordained duties, and die as men and women who have performed their tasks. To thee, Noren, are given ample estates, loyal subjects, thousands of men and women who look up to thee in their sorrows and sufferings. Shalt thou turn thy back on all these—as a soldier never turns from his duty—because thou once hadst some vain longings in thy heart?"
Hemlata paused, but Noren spoke not, and she went on:
"Thou hast a greater battle to fight, Noren, than thou hast yet fought. Live and conquer in this great battle of life like a true soldier. And when the time comes, die the death of a man who, happy or unhappy, has done his task in life. It is our duty which counts, not our desires and dreams. It matters little if an idle dream more or less is realised in life, it matters little if we sometimes stagger under the weight of sorrows or disappointments; we do His will when we do our ordained duty, and His unseen hand helps us when we are feeble. Do thy duty in life, Noren, and thy loving sister will be proud of her brother who is true to his work. Be a man, for a man's work lies before thee."
The midnight hour sounded from the Golden Temple, and the light of the moon fell on the inspired face and the glowing eyes of the proud woman who had done her duty in life. Noren, a soldier for nine years, felt that he was but a deserter and a coward whom that woman was calling back to his duty. And as he raised his eyes they fell on the North Star, and a legend of constancy and of duty came back to his mind.
"I will do thy bidding, Hemlata," he said softly. "I will return with thee to Bengal, and may Heaven help me to do my work."
"Spoken like the son of thy father. Thou hast always helped me, Noren, since childhood. Help a woman, who has perhaps her sufferings too, to do her ordained task on earth."
A silence ensued. Noren never knew the silent sufferings that patient woman had borne and conquered.
"One word more before Saibalini comes to meet us, for her devotions must now be over. Dost remember the last time thou sawest me at Birnagar?"
Noren remembered it.
"Dost remember the grey cold morning, the misty lake, the lonely temple surrounded by trees?"
He did.
"Dost remember the jasmine plant we had planted and the flowers that grew on it?"
Noren remembered all.
"Then thou rememberest this token thou didst leave with me nine years ago." And Hemlata bared her white, slender arm, and Noren saw on it the withered remains of the jasmine bracelet, his last present to her before they had parted. It had gone to pieces, but the pieces had been carefully stitched together by a thread, and Hemlata had put it on once more before she came to the temple to-night.
"It was thy gift, Noren. Undo it, for thou alone hast the right to take it back." Her voice trembled a little.
"It was a token," said Noren, "which would keep me in thy mind. Dost thou forget me, Hemlata?"
"Not while life will last, my brother. But that token meant more. It has often troubled my heart when I sought for peace. It has often blinded my eyes when I sought to do my household work. Take it back, Noren, I may not wear it. I am a true wife to my husband."
Neither spoke, but both understood. Noren's heart heaved within him, and the soldier's eyes were blinded with tears, as he slowly undid that bracelet and consigned it to the waters of the Jumna.
Hemlata and Noren silently watched it on the rippling waters till it was lost to view, for ever.
THE END
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