yet her clothing was
ill-arranged, and disordered, and very dusty; and her hair was all
dishevelled, and floated loose about her head, as if to match and
imitate the wild disorder of her soul within. And yet, somehow or other,
she seemed for all that in his eyes even more beautiful than ever, with
a beauty that appalled him as he saw it, for she was utterly unlike
herself, as if her own soul had been suddenly changed into another,
making its envelope into something other than it was, to suit the
alteration. And gradually as Babhru watched her, his hair stood up upon
his body, as if with fright, and anticipation of something coming, that
he did not understand.

So he stood silent, watching her, forgetful of himself, with a soul that
yearned to comfort her and soothe her, and caress her and console her,
yet utterly unable, and half fearing, to say anything at all. And in the
silence, gradually dread began to creep all over him, as he saw her
continue, lying absolutely still, and yet every now and then breathing,
very slowly and with difficulty, like one that is suffering an agony of
pain. And at last, after a long while, he moved a little nearer, and he
said, with timidity and emotion: O Aranyani, alas! thou art suffering.
And dost thou think I can endure to see thee suffer? At least, at least,
thou hast returned, no matter how. O alas! for all thy suffering, I only
am to blame; for well I understood, I was wrong to abandon thee, and
leave thee as a prey. But at least, thou hast returned, and only just
in time: for hadst thou stayed away another day, I could not have
endured. I thought thee dead, for day by day, I waited, and day by day,
thou didst not come: and each night was longer, and more awful than the
last. And I sought thee in every quarter of the wood, but thou wert not
to be found. And now, lo! there before my eyes, hardly to be believed,
thou art; and now I am almost ready once more to die, for joy, that is
mingled, I know not how, with an agony of grief. And yet, I blame
myself, selfish that I am, for being even able to rejoice at all, while
thou art suffering. Ah! only tell me what to do, to share thy grief, or
take it all upon myself.

And as he spoke, he leaned towards her, and looked, and lo! a tear
rolled suddenly from her eye, and fell upon the ground: but she never
stirred or spoke. And again he said, with difficulty and hesitation:
Aranyani, dost thou think, dost thou really think, thou art guilty in