her head in shame she darted away, and reaching the kitchen, she took hold of the cook's hair from behind, and pulling it, said, "Mistress cook, while you are cooking tell me a pretty story."
In the meantime Gobind Lâl questioned Rohini. He said to her, "Will you tell me all the details of this matter?"
Rohini's heart was bursting to tell him, but she was of that race who, yet living, allowed themselves to be burnt on their husband's funeral pyre—the Aryan women. She answered only, "Have you not heard all about it from the Kartâ?"
Gobind. "The Kartâ says that you came to change the true will for a false one. Was that so?"
Rohini. "Not so!"
Gobind. "Then how was it?"
Rohini. "What will be the good of telling you?"
Gobind. "It may be for your good."
Rohini. "Will you believe my story?"
Gobind. "If it is a likely story, why should I not believe it?"
Rohini. "It is not a likely story."
Gobind. "I know what I may think worthy
