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The room remained still as a stone. I dropped on the floor, and clung to my husband’s knees.

“What have I done?” I asked. “Where have I been lacking? Tell me truly. Why do you want another wife?”

My husband said slowly: “I will tell you the truth. I am afraid of you. Your blindness has enclosed you in its fortress, and I have now no entrance. To me you are no longer a woman. You are awful as my God. I cannot live my every day life with you. I want a woman–just an ordinary woman–whom I can be free to chide and coax and pet and scold.”

Oh, tear open my heart and see! What am I else but that, –just an ordinary woman? I am the same girl that I was when I was newly wed, a girl with all her need to believe, to confide, to worship.

I do not recollect exactly the words that I uttered. I only remember that I said: “If I be a true wife, then, may God be my witness, you shall never do this wicked deed, you shall never break your oath. Before you commit such sacrilege, either I shall become a widow, or Hemangini shall die.”

Then I fell down on the floor in a swoon. When I came to myself, it was still dark. The birds were silent. My husband had gone.

All that day I sat at my worship in the sanctuary at the household shrine. In the evening a fierce storm, with thunder and lightning and rain, swept down upon the house and shook it. As I crouched before the shrine, I did not ask my God to save my husband from the storm, though he must have been at that time in peril on the river. I prayed that whatever might happen to me, my husband might be saved from this great sin.

Night passed. The whole of the next day I kept my seat at worship. When it was evening there was the noise of shaking and beating at the door. When the door was broken open, they found me lying unconscious on the ground, and carried me to my room.

When I came to myself at last, I heard some one whispering in my ear: “Sister.”

I found that I was lying in my room with my head on Hemangini’s lap. When my head moved, I heard her dress rustle. It was the sound of bridal silk.

O my God, my God! My prayer has gone unheeded! My husband has fallen!

Hemangini bent her head low, and said in a sweet whisper: “Sister, dearest, I have come to ask your blessing on our marriage.”

At first my whole body stiffened like the trunk of a tree that has been struck by lightning. Then I sat up, and said, painfully, forcing myself to speak the words: “Why should I not bless you? You have done no wrong.”

Hemangini laughed her merry laugh.

“Wrong!” said she. “When you married it was right; and when I marry, you call it wrong! “

I tried to smile in answer to her laughter. I said in my mind: “My prayer is not the final thing in this world. His will is all. Let the blows descend upon my head; but may they leave my faith and hope in God untouched.”

Hemangini bowed to me, and touched my feet. “May you be happy,” said I, blessing her, “and enjoy unbroken prosperity.”

Hemangini was still unsatisfied.

“Dearest sister,” she said, “a blessing for me is not enough. You must make our happiness complete. You must, with those saintly hands of yours, accept into your home my husband also. Let me bring him to you.”

I said: “Yes, bring him to me.”

A few moments later I heard a familiar footstep, and the question, “Kumo, how are you ? “