Page:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu/43

Rh his room and go off. Countless sighs from a broken heart pursued me, but I paid no heed. Indeed I was not even conscious of them. It is only now that I find time to think of them.

Do you remember that day, when you and I together made a garland of white lotuses, sitting on the grass by the side of the river? You took one end of the string and I the other, and we both worked at the same time. The chain was very long before we finished. In the middle was a large full-blown lotus. Grandfather was very fond of lotuses, so I took the garland to his room. "Look here, grandfather," I called out, "what a beautiful garland! See, if I wear it, it reaches down to my feet."

He turned round and said, "Indeed child, you are nearly covered with flowers! You look like the goddess Saraswati! Who gave you so many flowers?"

"Your grandson Shankar," I answered.

His pale face seemed to turn paler still. Yet he laughed and said, "My dear, you spend your days in laughter alone. But life is not all laughter; there are tears enough in it. It is well to be prepared for both, otherwise sorrow gives too severe a shock. May it never enter your life. Still you never know."

I hung the garland on the wall, and left the room. Our joyous laughter had penetrated even into the sick room and told its own tale. But it found no answering joy there; only sadness. And why?

I passed that day alone and speechless. The shadow of some impending calamity darkened everything for me. In what shape was it coming? The old man had told me to be ready; but for what was I to be ready? At one time I thought you must have told him something against me. But I dismissed that thought, because why should you? I had never harmed you. Then,—was my mother dead? Was my grandfather trying to prepare me for that? Rh