THE TOKEN
her mite in the shape of earthen oil lamps lit on her doorsteps. Musicians poured forth a vigorous stream of noise from high balconies, and groups of men and women loitered in the bazaars and street corners, speaking of the great Badshah of Agra, the generous Ruler of Bengal, and the liberated Lord of Birnagar. It was past midnight before the little town subsided into peace and rest.
Early in the morning, as Hemlata went to the Palace gardens to cull flowers, she saw the erect figure and pale face of Noren in the dim light. She was startled for a moment, but she had heard of the orders passed the previous day, and she knew that Noren had come to bid farewell to her. The occasion was not one for false bashfulness, and Hemlata was calm and brave. She came to the friend of her childhood and gently and sadly laid her hand in his. For a while they were both silent and understood each other's thoughts.
"Is it true, Noren, that thou art leaving Birnagar to be a soldier and that we shall not meet for a long time? But we have ever been friends, and shall remain so through life."
"The great God bless thee, Hemlata, for those kindly words. Yes, we have ever been friends, and I shall never cease to think of thee, Hemlata, as long as I live."
"I know that, Noren, I know thy great kindness and tenderness for me. I know too thy noble heart. When all the world blamed thee, Noren, I knew that no evil design could find place in thy generous bosom. But why, oh, why art thou so impulsive, so hasty, sometimes?"
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