"you must have been with her when she fell into the nullah."
Ramzán bent his head in silence. After a few moments he looked up, clasped his hands, and said:—
"Tell me the truth, Sádhu, is Maini alive?"
"She is," was the reply. "On Thursday morning she came to our house dripping wet and quite exhausted, with a story that your mother had turned her out of doors and that she was on her way to live with us when, on crossing the Padmajali Nullah, her foot slipped and she fell into the water. She told us how, after being carried for nearly a gau-coss (lit. cow league, the distance at which a cow's lowing can be heard), she was swept by the stream against the overhanging roots of a pipal tree (ficus religiosa) and managed to clamber up the bank. But Maini never told us that you were with her. Why, Ramzán, you're quaking in every limb. I always suspected Maini had concealed the truth. Swear on the Quran that you did not try to drown her."
Ramzán feebly protested innocence, and the two men sat awhile without speaking.
At length Sádhu said: "I've come to make you a proposal. Young Esáf, the son of Ibrahim of our village, has fallen in love with Maini and wants to marry her. He is willing to pay the den mohur of
