Page:The Wreck.djvu/274

270

THE WRECK

"I can't work for you any longer," replied Kamala. "I can't stand it. Please let me go."

"Oh, indeed?" snarled Nabinkali. "That comes of doing people a good turn these days! To think that, just to make room for you, I turned away that good old Brahman who had worked for us so long?, and now he has gone, goodness knows where. You call your- self a true Brahman! Think you've only to come along and say, 'Please let me go!' Wait till you try to run away and see if the police don't hear about it. My son's a magistrate and many a man has gone to the gallows at a word from him. You needn't try any of your games with me. Perhaps you've heard about Gada? He cheeked his master and we taught him a lesson; he's in jail to this day! You can't play fast and loose with us!"

The story about the servant Gada was perfectly true. The poor wretch had been sentenced to im- prisonment for the alleged theft of a watch.

Kamala had come to the end of her resources. When it seemed as though lifelong happiness lay within her grasp her hands were fettered. Fate had played her a cruel practical joke. Her life of drudgery as a prisoner within four walls became intolerable. She took to donning a wrapper and sallying forth into the cold night air of the garden as soon as her evening's toil was ended. There she would stand by the com- pound wall and gaze out upon the road leading to the city. Her passionate zesd for devoted service im- pelled her, in imagination, along that dark lonely road in search of a house that she had never seen. Thus she would stand immovable for hours on end. At last she would bow herself to the ground in a deep obeisance and retire to her chamber.

But soon even this poor consolation, this small de- gree of liberty, was denied her. One evening Nabin- kali chose to send for her after her labours were over

Digitized by Google