In fact, Srish Chandra’s words were true—­Surja Mukhi had never walked; how far could she go?  About a mile from the house she was lying in a mango garden at the edge of a tank.  A khansamah who was accustomed to serve in the women’s apartment came to that place in his search, and recognizing her, said, “Will you not please to come home?”

Surja Mukhi made no answer.

Again he said, “Pray come home, the whole household is anxious.”

Then, in an angry voice, Surja Mukhi said, “Who are you to take me back?”

The khansamah was frightened; nevertheless he remained standing.

Then Surja Mukhi said, “If you stay there I shall drown myself in the tank.”

The khansamah, finding he was unable to do anything, ran swiftly with the news to Nagendra.  Nagendra came with a palanquin for her; but Surja Mukhi was no longer there.  He searched all about, but found no trace.

Surja Mukhi had wandered thence into a wood.  There she met an old woman who had come to gather sticks.  She had heard of a reward being offered for finding Surja Mukhi, therefore on seeing her she asked—­

“Are you not our mistress?”

“No, mother,” replied Surja Mukhi.

“Yes, you must be our mistress.”

“Who is your mistress?”

“The lady of the Babu’s house.”

“Am I wearing any gold ornaments that I should be the lady of the Babu’s house?”

The old woman thought, “That is true,” and went further into the wood gathering sticks.

Thus the day passed vainly; the night brought no more success.  The two following days brought no tidings, though nothing was neglected in the search.  Of the male searchers, scarcely any one knew Surja Mukhi by sight; so they seized many poor women and brought them before Nagendra.  At length the daughters of respectable people feared to walk along the roads or on the ghats.  If one was seen alone, the devoted Hindustani Durwans followed, calling out “Ma Thakurani,” and, preventing them from bathing, brought a palki.  Many of those who were not accustomed to travel in a palki seized the opportunity of doing so free of expense.

Srish Chandra could not remain longer.  Returning to Calcutta, he began a search there.  Kamal Mani, remaining in Govindpur, continued to look for the lost one.

CHAPTER XXIV.

EVERY SORT OF HAPPINESS IS FLEETING.

The happiness for which Kunda Nandini had never ventured to hope was now hers; she had become the wife of Nagendra.  On the marriage day she thought, “This joy is boundless; it can never end!”

But after the flight of Surja Mukhi, repentance came to Kunda Nandini.  She thought:  “Surja Mukhi rescued me in my time of distress, when but for her I should have been lost; now on my account she is an outcast.  If I am not to be happy, it were better I had died.”  She perceived that happiness has limits.