“What is the name of that Brahman? where does he live?” asked Nagendra, thinking that by some means he would find out the man and reward him.  He then bade Srish Chandra continue.

“Surja Mukhi,” continued Srish, “travelled as one of the family as far as Barhi; to Calcutta by boat, to Raniganj by rail, from Raniganj by bullock train—­so far Surja Mukhi proceeded in comfort.”

“After that did the Brahman dismiss her?” asked Nagendra.

“No,” replied Srish; “Surja Mukhi herself took leave.  She went no further than Benares.  How many days could she go on without seeing you?  With that purpose she returned from Barhi on foot.”

As Srish Chandra spoke tears came into his eyes, the sight of which was an infinite comfort to Nagendra, who rested his head on the shoulder of Srish and wept.  Since entering the house Nagendra had not wept, his grief had been beyond tears; but now the stream of sorrow found free vent.  He cried like a boy, and his suffering was much lessened thereby.  The grief that cannot weep is the messenger of death!

As Nagendra became calmer, Srish Chandra said, “We will speak no more of this to-day.”

“What more is there to say?” said Nagendra.  “The rest that happened I have seen with my own eyes.  From Barhi she walked alone to Madhupur.  From fatigue, fasting, sun, rain, despair, and grief, Surja Mukhi, seized by illness, fell to the ground ready to die.”

Srish Chandra was silent for a time; at length he said:  “Brother, why dwell upon this an longer?  You are not in fault; you did nothing to oppose or vex her.  There is no cause to repent of that which has come about without fault of our own.”

Nagendra did not understand.  He knew himself to blame for all.  Why had he not torn up the seed of the poison tree from his heart?

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE FRUIT OF HIRA’S POISON TREE.

Hira has sold her precious jewel in exchange for a cowrie.  Virtue may be preserved with much pains for a long time; yet a day’s carelessness may lose it.  So it was with Hira.  The wealth to gain which she had sold her precious jewel was but a broken shell; for such love as Debendra’s is like the bore in the river, as muddy as transient.  In three days the flood subsided, and Hira was left in the mud.  As the miser, or the man greedy of fame, having long preserved his treasure, at the marriage of a son, or some other festival, spends all in one day’s enjoyment, Hira, who had so long preserved her chastity, had now lost it for a day’s delight, and like the ruined miser was left standing in the path of endless regret.