Tales of Destiny | Page 6

face--a look of mingled surprise and terror. At the same moment her old attendant and confidant, Rakaya, flung herself at my feet, and began to babble for my forgiveness.
"'What means this?' I asked, glancing in profound amazement from the woman's prostrate form up into my wife's eyes. There again I read the strangely troubled expression. Puzzled, yet restraining my curiosity before the others gathered around, I placed the wounded child in my wife's arms, and, with a gesture to signify that she and Rakaya were to follow, I led the way to the women's quarters.
"Once within the zenana, I told my story briefly: how the little damsel of the glen had saved me from certain death, and then, through danger and through pain, had been brave as the noblest-born Rajput maid could be. After this recital, I commended the child to my wife's affections, bidding her love the orphan as she would a daughter.
"Then was the lovely countenance of my wife, the jewel of Jhalnagor, suffused with great joy. Hugging the child to her motherly bosom, she exclaimed:
"'Oh, my lord, I have a confession to make, but now you will forgive me. Do you remember our first-born babe?'
"My brow darkened. I felt the hot flush of shame on my cheeks. For our first-born had been a girl, and I--disappointed and aggrieved, because I was then strongly under the influence of my father's teachings, proud of my family's position and wealth, and fearful to be impoverished in the future--had given the word that the babe must die. This in spite of my wife's pitiful tears and pleadings. And it was not the memory of the deed itself that made me now ashamed, but the memory of those tears and of how I had repelled her. Through the intervening years I had tried never to think of this painful episode, and, with two little boys playing at my knee, had well nigh forgotten the first child that had come. Mention of the dead and buried past now made me resentful.
"'Why do you speak thus?' I asked, angrily.
"'Because, my lord,' exclaimed my wife, dropping on her knees at my feet, yet with the little child still pressed to her breast, and drawing me down to her with her free hand, so that we were all three close together, 'because, oh, my lord, in our arms now this very moment is our first-born, our daughter. We spared her, Rakaya and I; we bribed Runjit, who is now dead, and to whom you gave the terrible orders, and Rakaya smuggled the babe safe away to the cottage of the woodcutters. Since then I have managed to see her sometimes by stealth, and have loved her; but I have never dared to clothe her in any but humble garments--no silks, no bangles, no jewels of any kind--lest suspicion should be aroused.'
"'Oh, great master, forgive your humble slave,' moaned the old crone, Rakaya, grovelling in a corner of the room.
"But to my wife only I paid heed. 'Can this be?' I murmured, surprised and deeply moved.
"'She is our very own, our little girl.' And back into my arms she placed the child, whose tresses I straightway fell to fondling, as her sweet, trustful eyes looked up into mine, beaming with love as if she had indeed long before divined in her heart that I was her father and her natural protector.
"'And, oh, my dear lord,' continued my wife, her eyes brimming with tears, 'thou knowest now it was to save thee that, in the mysterious workings of fate, this little child was saved.'"
The Rajput paused in his story, bending his head to hide the emotion that caused his lips to tremble. "A month later," he went on, softly, "a little sister was born to Brenda, and only last year a third daughter came to our home. And all, as I have said, are well beloved."
The speaker's face was now upraised. The soldierly sternness had gone out of it: it shone only with paternal pride and love as he added:
"To-day Brenda, our first-born, is the light of my home, and a year hence she will be married to the Rajah of Jodhpur, to make the heart of that great and noble prince of the Rajputs happy for ever-more."
And so ended the Rajput's tale.
* * * * *
There was silence for a time, broken at last by the voice of the ash-besprinkled devotee:
"Allahu akbar! God is great! Over many things he gives his servants power."

II. THE HOLLOW COLUMN
TOLD BY THE TAX-COLLECTOR
"Every man's fate is fore-ordained," said the tax-collector, reflectively stroking his beard. "Although we may not understand it at the moment each particular event that happens is simply a means prepared for some destined end that may be many years remote in time. Vishnu the Preserver saved the life