The fat infant was deposited in the arms of the fat mother, and forthwith began to torture her by dragging at her huge ear-rings—a favourite amusement of native babies, who appear to consider these glittering ornaments as made for their own special diversion. Poor Premi was sent off again to pound rice with the club which she was almost too feeble to wield.
The sound of the thud, thud of that club went to the gentle heart of Alicia. “Premi looks so ill,” she observed.
“Only because yesterday was her fast-day,” said Jai Dé, an old woman who had but one eye, the other having been lost in small-pox, and who possessed but two teeth, which seemed by their extra size to try to make up for the absence of all the rest.
Alicia did not understand the word for “fast,” and it took her some time to make out, partly by means of signs, that on the preceding day Premi had touched no food, and that she was fasting still.
“What bad thing has she done that you should starve her?” exclaimed the indignant lady.
The Hindus looked surprised at the question, which betrayed such ignorance of what they thought that every one knew or ought to know.
“Premi is a widow: of course she fasts every fortnight,” said Chand Kor; and so, as if tired with conversation on so insignificant a subject, she asked Alicia to sing.
Alicia was in no mood for singing; she rose and made her excuses as well as she could for not lingering longer in the zenana. “The sun is hot; my head pains me,” she said, in reply to the women’s expostulations. The words were true; but it was rather pain in the heart than pain in the head which so shortened Alicia’s visit. Amidst the sound of the jabber of many voices, and a child’s loud roar which reached her as she groped her way down the stair, there came to the lady’s ear that hateful thud, thud which told of the hopeless toil of a weak and helpless slave. Alicia’s soul was full of indignant pity.
“Oh, this cruel, wicked system!” exclaimed Alicia. “How long shall the cry of innocent young victims, doomed to life-long misery, go up to Heaven? Before the English took possession of the Panjab, the probable fate of this fair girl-widow would have been to be burned alive with the corpse of an old man whom she could never have loved; but was such a fate worse than that which the young creature must endure for perhaps forty—fifty years,—even more? It is shameful—it is horrible! But this one victim may be rescued. I have a plan in my head, and I will speak of it to my husband. I think that the merciful Being who breaks the captives’ chains may have sent me to this dark spot to set one prisoner free.”