, the woman began to relate the history
of her life; and when, amid much crying, she had finished, the doctor
again asked, "What do you want now? What has happened to you?" Again
she began the unequalled story of her life; but the doctor showing
much impatience, she changed it for that of Hira, of Hira's mother,
and Hira's husband.

With much difficulty the doctor at last arrived at her meaning, to
which all this talking and crying was quite irrelevant. The old woman
desired some medicine for Hira. Her complaint, she said, was a species
of lunacy. Before Hira's birth, her mother had been mad, had
continued so for some time, and had died in that condition. Hira had
not hitherto shown any sign of her mother's disorder; but now the old
woman felt some doubts about her. Hira would now laugh, now weep, now,
closing the door, she would dance. Sometimes she screamed, and
sometimes became unconscious. Therefore her grandmother wanted
medicine for her. After some reflection the doctor said, "Your
daughter has hysteria."

"Well, doctor, is there no medicine for that disease?"

"Certainly there is: keep her very warm; take this dose of castor-oil,
give it to her early to-morrow morning. Later I will come and give her
another medicine."

With the bottle of castor-oil in her hand, the old woman hobbled
forth. On the road she was met by a neighbour, who said, "Oh, Hira's
grandmother, what have you in your hand?"

The old woman answered, "Hira has become hysterical; the doctor has
given me some castor-oil for her; do you think that will be good for
hysterics?"

"It may be; castor-oil is the god of all. But what has made your
granddaughter so jolly lately?"

After much reflection the old woman said, "It is the fault of her
age;" whereupon the neighbour prescribed a remedy, and they parted.

On arriving at home, the old woman remembered that the doctor had said
Hira must be kept warm; therefore she placed a pan of fire before her
granddaughter.

"Fire!" exclaimed Hira. "What is this for?"

"The doctor told me to keep you warm," replied the old woman.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A DARK HOUSE: A DARK LIFE.

In the absence of Nagendra and Surja Mukhi from their spacious home,
all was darkness therein. The clerks sat in the office, and Kunda
Nandini dwelt in the inner apartments with the poor relations. But how
can stars dispel the darkness of a moonless night?

In the corners hung spiders' webs; in the rooms stood dust in h