He cried like a boy, and his suffering was much
lessened thereby. The grief that cannot weep is the messenger of
death!
As Nagendra became calmer, Srish Chandra said, "We will speak no more
of this to-day."
"What more is there to say?" said Nagendra. "The rest that happened I
have seen with my own eyes. From Barhi she walked alone to Madhupur.
From fatigue, fasting, sun, rain, despair, and grief, Surja Mukhi,
seized by illness, fell to the ground ready to die."
Srish Chandra was silent for a time; at length he said: "Brother, why
dwell upon this an longer? You are not in fault; you did nothing to
oppose or vex her. There is no cause to repent of that which has come
about without fault of our own."
Nagendra did not understand. He knew himself to blame for all. Why had
he not torn up the seed of the poison tree from his heart?
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE FRUIT OF HIRA'S POISON TREE.
Hira has sold her precious jewel in exchange for a cowrie. Virtue may
be preserved with much pains for a long time; yet a day's carelessness
may lose it. So it was with Hira. The wealth to gain which she had
sold her precious jewel was but a broken shell; for such love as
Debendra's is like the bore in the river, as muddy as transient.
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