came to Dinapore! Why did you?" Her tone, alas, was stern and unforgiving.
The poor mother relapsed into another fit of sobs. "Can one forget one's own child?"—she managed to say.
Maloti felt like crying too. It seemed strange to her that she should have become so tenderly attached to this lady, quite unaware of the relationship between them.
"Why did you reveal yourself?"—said Maloti in a tremulous voice.
"I hardly know. I could not restrain myself."
Maloti was about to say—"I am glad you did or else I should never have known what it was to look upon one's mother." But she checked herself immediately. An inner voice seemed to whisper to her—"Such a mother! Better not have seen her at all."—So she sat there, sternly silent.
The departure of the train drew near. The Station porter, as arranged, came to fetch away the things.
"Please take away these jewels—I won't wear them"—said Maloti.
The lady looked at her daughter's face and understood what was passing in her mind. She said—"It is not as you suppose. You may wear them without the slightest compunction. Had it been otherwise, I would much rather have thrown them
