"And why should I go?" cried Gunga, excitedly; "am I not a Moorlee like thyself, and have I not served the Mother longer than thee? To be sure, I am neither a Brahmun nor a widow to be nice as thou art; yet I bid thee go, and let me have my turn: thou hast had more than thy share of money already to-day." "It is all in the shrine before the Mother," said Tara, shrinking from the bold glances and excited manner of the girl. "I have taken none of it: I need it not." "That does not matter," said Gunga; "I will have my turn now. Go away; thou art not wanted. Those that will not dance before the Mother are not worthy to serve her. Go, else some of us will push thee out." "Me!" cried Tara, drawing up her slight figure proudly, her eyes flashing, and her features quivering with indignation,--"me! you dare not; you are impure, and the Mother loathes you: touch me, and she will strike you dead!" Gunga shrunk from the trial; and others of her sisterhood, who had stood apart ready to advance, slunk again into the gloom behind the pillars. Gunga looked round as if for countenance, but no one seemed disposed to join her, while the old priest at the altar, who had caught the sound of voices, came to the door, and, seeing Gunga, waved her off. "Away with ye, and the like of ye!" he cried. "Outside do as ye please; here ye are an offence. Away! let her stay;" and he pointed to Tara. "Do not molest her." "There is some spell about thee, Tara, which shuts my mouth; beware!" muttered Gunga, retreating; "it may not always be so." "Bear me witness," said Tara to the old priest, "she is threatening me." "Ah, daughter," he replied, smiling, "fear not such as she; the Mother is good to thee; and they cannot harm thee so long as thou art holy and pure." "I did not tell thee to quarrel with her," said Moro Trimmul angrily, seizing Gunga's arm as she approached, and dragging her within the shadow of the pillar. "Art thou mad, or has any one given thee drink, Gunga?" "I spoke to her kindly, which is more than thou darest to do," retorted the girl sharply. "What answer did I get? Pure? Why should she be pure? I tell thee there is a spell about her neck--I saw it glittering among the flowers--which put me back: I could not speak. Yes, Moro Trimmul, if it be only to put that spell under my foot, and crush it with her throat, I will do it; yes, I will earn the gold; let her see to herself." "Good," he replied; "then I can trust thee. Come to me to-morrow, and fail not." And then, naked to the waist, with his soft glossy hair falling over his shoulders, and his fine figure displayed to the best advantage, Moro Trimmul passed out, and took his place among the reciters. Gunga's eyes followed him. "Drink!" she muttered; "drink! he said that. Well, better drink than this madness, which is worse." And, sitting down, leaning against a pillar, she hid her face in her garment, and sobbed bitterly.