SHE MISSED A THRONE
judge truly, Norendra Nath has not yet forgotten the girl he loved as a boy."
Hemlata trembled, and felt as if she would faint. She had not the power to make a reply.
"Pardon me if I have caused thee pain and sought to know something of thy past life and that of Norendra Nath. Trust me, it was not a woman's curiosity, or a woman's cruel disregard for a sister's feelings. A strange fatality has made two lives similar."
There was a pause. The lamps were very dim, and Hemlata could scarcely see the face of the strange woman who spoke so strangely.
"I have known of another woman who was loved by a man, one of the highest in the land of Hind. That woman is now the wife of another, but her lover carries her image in his bosom to this day."
Hemlata rose to depart.
"Ay, my Hindu sister, such things have happened on earth among Moslems and among Hindus. I seek not to probe thy secrets further, and I crave pardon for the pain I have caused, but thy life has a strange interest for me. It is strangely similar to that of—the woman of whom I have spoken. She is true and faithful to the brave man to whom she is wedded—but she has narrowly missed a throne!"
Thus spoke Mihr-un-Nissa, who was a true and faithful wife to Sher Afghan, but who could scarcely help remembering sometimes what she might have been. Did she dream, as she sat alone in that dimly-lighted room after her guest's departure, that the proudest throne of Asia would still be hers?
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