The beautiful handwriting of my friend seemed to prick my eyes. And the language and the sentiments were no better. It was a wonder that anyone could weep for want of it. But perhaps Nirjharinee had the same reasons for liking Animesh that I had. Human beings cannot live without loving someone, and the Creator has not created too many lovable people. So the sight of love being wasted on mere lumps of clay is common enough.
The letter had much of love in it. Marriage too was mentioned, but something else I found which probably had escaped the notice of Nirjharinee. Animesh was eager to know whether the father of his lady-love was ready to spare her as much of his silver as of his affections. He did not, of course, put it as plainly as that. I understood that the old gentleman had no objection to give the girl-widow in marriage again, but he did not want to lose thereby either money or his social prestige. So the love of Animesh was visibly on the wane, and tears flowed unchecked from Nirjharinee's eyes.
I put the letter in my pocket, and went to have my morning tea. After I had finished, my mother said: "I want you to take me to Nitya Babu's house? I hear that the sick girl is worse, and I must go and see her once."
I went with mother. I could not find Raju and took it for granted that he had preceded me to Molly's house. Mother entered into the inner apartments and I sat in one of the outer rooms and tried to converse with Nitya Babu on a variety of subjects. But he seemed too despondent and sad to care for conversation and so I took my leave as soon as I decently could. After two or three hours mother returned with Raju. And it was inevitable that with Raju should come Molly in her little coloured Sari. The gloom of her sorrow-stricken home was too much for her child's heart and she naturally took every opportunity to escape from it.
