/*
"Those who would draw us back,
They know not the fearful joy of recklessness.
They know not that we have had our call
From the end of the crooked path.
All that is good and straight and trim--
Let it topple over in the dust."
*/
I thought that my husband was going to continue the discussion,
but he rose silently from his seat and left us.
The thing that was agitating me within was merely a variation of
the stormy passion outside, which swept the country from one end
to the other. The car of the wielder of my destiny was fast
approaching, and the sound of its wheels reverberated in my
being. I had a constant feeling that something extraordinary
might happen any moment, for which, however, the responsibility
would not be mine. Was I not removed from the plane in which
right and wrong, and the feelings of others, have to be
considered? Had I ever wanted this--had I ever been waiting or
hoping for any such thing? Look at my whole life and tell me
then, if I was in any way accountable.
Through all my past I had been consistent in my devotion--but
when at length it came to receiving the boon, a different god
appeared! And just as the awakened country, with its __Bande
Mataram__, thrills in salutation to the unrealized future
before it, so do all my veins and nerves send forth shocks of
welcome to the unthought-of, the unknown, the importunate
Stranger.
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