him :—-“ Where art thou my husband, where art thou my lord, the refuge of a woman’s life, the god of my worship, my all, the source of all my good? Where art thou Chandrashekhar, a thousand and thousand and thousand bows to thee! Oh, save me! By wronging thee I am falling into this hell—pit. If thou dost not, then no god will be able to save me. Oh, save me, do save me, I beseech thee! Be generous; come to me and sprinkle the dust of thy feet on my head, and then I am sure, I shall be saved from this hell.”
Blinded, deafened and dead, it seemed to Shaibalini, as if some one had lifted her on his lap, the fragrance of his body suffusing the surrounding space. The hideous hell—sound suddenly vanished, and instead of the putrid stench, scent of ﬂowers ﬂoated up. Suddenly her deafness was cured, the eyes recovered their sight, and all once it seemed to her-it was not death but a new life, it was not a horrid dream but a pleasant reality. Shaibalini had recovered her senses.
On opening her eyes, she saw that a faint light had streamed into the cave. The morning carol of the birds outside was heard, but what is this? On whose lap did her head rest? Whose face, like a full-orbed moon in the sky was bending over her and shedding its lustre on the morning twilight? Shaibalini recognised him. He was Chandrashekhar—Chandrashekhar in an ascetic garb.
THE BOAT SANK.
"Shaibalini,” cried Chandrashekhar.
Shaibalini sat up and began to stare at Chandrashekhar. Her head swam and she fell down knocking