his service. He would take care of me and maintain me, for I was determined that I would never accept the property which by right belonged to you. I dreamed of myself in the future as living in a little hut by the side of the temple and from there witnessing your home life made beautiful and happy by some fortunate woman. But who knows if ever the dream will come true? All the probabilities seem against it. Yet I cannot give up my dream, and I am taking care of your house and property in the hope that one day I shall be able to make all over to you.
Long years have passed since I first began to sweep and wash the temple stairs and decorate them with flowers. Though I am the lowest of the low, yet I am allowed to serve thus. Every evening I wipe the accumulated dust of the day from off the stairs with my own hair. It is nothing but a habit now. For I know that the last particle of the dear holy dust has long been blown away by the wind.
The temple is no longer so crowded now as it used to be in your days. Only a few old women still persist. And of the innumerable young village folk who thronged here every evening and made my entrance nearly impossible, not one is seen any more.
A great storm ravaged the countryside that year. On the day of the storm, it grew dark even before evening. During the night several large trees were torn down by the violence of the wind, many boats were wrecked and the river wildly broke down its banks. It was a mad dance of the elements, and man trembled before it.
Before the storm broke, the evening worship in the temple was somehow hurried through. All the people left in haste. I alone remained for the purpose of finishing my daily tasks. But I did not know that you too had lingered behind. I never set about my self-appointed tasks before the eyes of a single human being. Not even
