village a few miles away from the city. So a hackney-carriage was hired
with a driver who had often before been employed by her father-in-law,
and everyone felt assured bow-ma would reach her destination safely.

Her mother-in-law saw her into the carriage. Her little boy was lifted
up beside her, and, with many injunctions to drive carefully and with
speed ringing in his ears, the driver whipped up his horses and they
were off.

Bow-ma knew the road well. Often had she journeyed to and fro in
the early years of her married life, and even after the birth of her
little son her visits to her parents had been frequent.

The carriage was close and her heavy silken saree hot to wear, so
she opened the venetians and lazily watched the familiar landmarks
as they passed. She had started early so that the journey should be
accomplished in day-light, and still they did not reach home. She
noted the various trees and hedges and was puzzled. Surely, the road
seemed different. The sun, a ball of golden fire, sank to rest in
a bed of many-tinted clouds, and still they had not arrived. Bow-ma
felt strangely anxious.

The carriage suddenly swerved. To her dismay she saw they had turned
into a rough and untravelled road with paddy-fields on either side. The
place seemed lonely. It was now rapidly growing dark, for in India
after sun-set Night does not long delay her coming. A presentiment of
evil clutched bow-ma's heart. She whispered to her little boy to ask
the driver where they were and when they should arrive. In India it
is not permitted a woman to address any man save her husband, father,
and brothers.