bough, many a leaf and flower, would be torn away from the hills and destroyed—would it not end so happily with Shaibalini?
All on a sudden, Shaibalini perceived the touch of some cold substance on her body. It was a drop of rain. Another drop—still another—then drop after drop began to fall in quicker succession till at last they fell in copious showers. Then followed a horrible noise that filled the air all around. It was a confused mixture of sounds which emanated from the pattering rains, the howling gust and the roaring thunder clouds; with it were heard, at times, the clamour of falling boughs, the wails of frightened beasts, the rumbling noise of shifted stones, rolling down the slopes of the hills, and the bustle and commotion of the tumultous waves of the distant Bhagirathi, wrestling with one another with mad enthusiasm. Shaibalini was seated on the hill, upon a stone, with her head bent down—the cold drops of rain were being incesssantly showered upon it. The boughs of small trees and the little branches of shrubs and creepers, which were waving to and fro in the strong gale, began to strike her body repeatedly, in their alternate rise and fall. The torrents of rain water, from the
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