The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1894-05-16

had power then, she was helpless now;
helpless and old. yet not old enough ap
parently to die; though when all was
said and done, il was not her turn, but
Khadjiya Khamum's. Yet she had
taken the mothers shoes, and had sat
there silent when perhaps word from
her might have saved that awful jour
ney TO the bazaar. Then the thought
came to her that the saints were never
helpless, and even the blessed Fatima
herself-GlOry-of-W Woman had tasted
and prayed for long days and nights;
she felt miserably i'll in soul and body,
i'm the very mood therefore to slip her
feet into the pair of shoes Yasmins
reclOlessness had spared, and, almost as
recklessly, pass without a pause to the
doorstep. The next instant she was
back again in shelter, brea thless, palpi-
tating. Yet might il not be the voice
of God? And no one would know; she
might be back ere Juntu returned, and
even if she were not, the gadabout had
kind heart. Besides. another rupee
from the pittance would silence her in
East and West nothing is impossible to
such religious eXaltatiOn as changed the
slow current in Fakr-un-nissa's veins to
a stream Of fire scOrching and shriveling
every thought save the one-that she
stood in the mothers shoes, yet had
said no word. She wrapped her thick
shrOud of a veil tighter round her and
stepped deliberately into the alley. The
glory of woman, its motherhood. was
hers indeed in that instant, though she
did not realize il; though the thin
breast heaving with her quickened
breath had never felt the lips of a
child
1t was a long. low room, opening by
arches to a wooden balcony without, into
which. half fainting with pure physical
fatigue, she stumbled after heaven
knows what trivial. yet 20 her sheer ig-
norance almost awful difficulties by the
way. Yet she was not afraid: indeed as
she had passed through the crowded
streets it had been wonder which had
come to her. That this should be 2
time of fasting and mourning, and' yer
none seem TO carei Had the world no
time to bewail dead virtue? Had it for
gotten the faith? And this, too, was no
mourning assemblage. though in some of
the faces of the lounging men she recOg-
nized the features of her own race, the
race of the Prophet himself. Had they
forgotten also? She shrank back an in
slant until beside a Haunting woman
whose profession was writ large enough
for even fifty years of pious seclusion to
decipher it instinctively she saw a slen-
der figure crOuching, half-sullen, half
defiant. The face was still yelled. but
she knew it.
''Yasmin.'' she cried breathlessly.
NNAlAt bflAh+ (tlltt DdNh ~ uHs
The girl sprang to her feet with
fierce cry. and was beside the tall white
form in an instant. screening ii with
swift arms that StrOve 10 force it back.
Col I say gOl Why art here? Thou
should'st not have come hither! Col
See, I will come also, if thou will not go
without met
mot so fast. my pigeon" Uttered the
Haunting woman. answering the half
surprised looks of the men with mods
and winks Thou art in my charge
now. since thou hast left the saints. Who
is this woman? Let her speak her
claim
Yasmin's hand flew to Fakr-un-nissa's
mouth Not word, ANNA. SO not a
word. See. l will so; quick. let us 60"
The surprise had lessened. and a mans
voice rose with laugh. What let thee
60 for nothing. with an unknown? Nay
Mistress Chambele. that were unwise
She is thy cousin; the claims Of kinship
must be considered
THE claims of numbers. too" put in
another. Let the yelled one unveil
since she has come among us
Nay. brothers," interrupted a third
hastily in 2 lower voice. "mayhap she is
one of the sanity women. and
4 laugh checked the speech. so
much the better. What doth a saint
here?"
Some one had barred the doorway
WITH luIuSl-pul arms anu ndlI-d-QOLen
others with jeering faces lounged against
the wall crying languidly. 'Unveil. I'M
veil" But Yasmin's arms clasped close.
Il Will co. she painted. Il will go with
her. She-she is my mother"
Chambele's litter rang high and shrill
'Wah. That is a talel See you, friends;
her mother hath been dead five years.
Enough of this, little fool! Thou hast
made thy choice already there is no
place for thee yOnder with the saints"
''She hath her mothers" cried Fakr-
un-nissa, freeing herself from Yasmin's
hold with new strength, born of the
girls words.
10. she speaks truth. my sister!
stand in her mothers shoes. Let her go
in peace. and she shah have them sure
Something in the urbane polish of her
speech awoke memory in the men, and
one, older than the rest, said with a
frOwn. Yea, it's enough, Chambele: let
the woman go. and the child also if she
wish it, She viii come back another day
If she be of this sort; if not, there are
others"
But not without a ransom" inter-
rupted one with an evil face and evil
eyes which had seen enough of Yasmin's
figure beneath the veil to think her pres
ence gave unwOnted piqUancy to the
business.
Yea, a ransom. a ransom for coming
mere anu SpOllllB pidSuTe- Let the SAINT
pay the price of the sinner" cried half
a-dozen jeering voices
The sunshine without streamed through
the arches in broad bands upon the
floor, but Fakr-un-nissa's tall muffied
figure stood in shadow by the door A
fighting quail was calling boastfully from
a shrouded cage over the way; the cries
Of the noisy bazaar floated up to the bal
cony, a harmonious background TO Cham
bele's noisier laugh Then suddenly,
came a step forward into the sunlight
and the heavy white veil fell in billowy
curves like a cloud about Fakr-un-nissa' s
feet For the first time in her life Glory
of-WOman stood unsheltered from the
gaze of mems eyes. And those eyes saw
something worth seeing, despite her fifty
and odd years; & woman beautiful in
her age. graceful as ever in the sweep
ing white draperies of the graceful Delhi
dress; but a woman fOrgetful utterly of
the motherhood in her. as with one swift
outspreading of the arms she broke into
the opening lines of the Mursiah that
dirge of martyred virtue which is as
closely interviewer with all that is best
in the life of a MuSsulman as "Hark the
herald angels singi" is with the Chris
tian's tender memories of home, a dirge
sacred To the day and the hour. a dirge
forgotten by this new world. Fakr-un-
nissa remembered nothing else Many
and many a time listless Indifferent
hearts had responded to the fervor of
her defamation; women's hearts. il is
true and that was a woman's derisiVe
laugh. But above it rose mans swift
curse commanding silence for all save
that was a sigh. The cadences rang
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