enares."

"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