heard his footsteps. Mahendra crept up on tiptoe, till he stood quite near. As Binodini read on, he heard her sigh.
"O Tender Heart!" said Mahendra, facetiously. "Don't waste your emotions on imaginary people. What is it you're reading?"
Binodini started up in dismay, and hastily hid her book under the flowing end of her sari. Mahendra tried to get a glimpse of it, and there ensued a tussle, at the end of which Mahendra proved the victor, and managed to get possession of the book;—he found it was Bankim's "Poison Tree." The defeated Binodini, breathing hard, turned her back on Mahendra in sulky silence.
Mahendra's heart was in a fearful flutter, but controlling himself with repeated efforts, he essayed a smile as he remarked: "What a disappointment! I thought it was some great secret, and after all this fuss, out comes the Poison Tree!"
"What secret am I supposed to have, may I know?" queried Binodini.
"It might have been a letter from Vihari, for instance," blurted out Mahendra.
Binodini sprang up like a suddenly-lighted flame. Lightning flashed from her eyes.
Mahendra realised his mistake. "I beg your pardon," he said, taking her hand in humble entreaty. "I was only jesting, forgive me."
"With whose name do you jest, pray?" said Binodini, coldly withdrawing her hand. "Had you been worthy of being his friend, I could have forgiven you. But your narrow heart has no room for true friendship, and yet you dare to jest!"
Binodini was about to sweep out of the room, but Mahendra clasped her by the feet and detained her. At that moment a shadow was seen in the doorway, and as Mahendra let go his hold, and raised his face with a start, he saw before him Vihari.
Vihari's steady gaze seemed to go through and through them both, as he icily remarked: "I'm intruding, I see, but I won't stay long. I came just to say one word. I've been to Benares, but I had no idea that sister Asha was there. In my ignorance I may appear to have sinned against her. I haven't a chance of asking her pardon, so I've come to beg yours. My only prayer is that if I have ever consciously or unconsciously sinned, my sin may not be visited on her."
Mahendra was wild that Vihari should have been witness of his weakness. He lost all compunction. "Rather like the guilty conscience of the proverb, isn't it?" he remarked with a caustic smile. "I never asked you to give any explanation nor to plead guilty either. Why then this playing the saint with mock contrition!"
Vihari stood awhile stiff as a statue. When, after strenuous efforts to speak, his lips began to tremble, Binodini interposed. "Don't reply to him, friend Vihari," she said. "Don't you say a thing. His foul words are only blackening his own mouth,—they're not touching you."
It is doubtful whether her words made their way into Vihari's ears. He left Mahendra's room, and went down the stairs as in a dream.
"Have you nothing to say to me?" continued Binodini, as she followed him. "If you think I've done anything wrong, rebuke me."
As Vihari still pursued his way in silence, she edged past him and caught hold of his hand. With a gesture of supreme contempt Vihari thrust her off as he rushed away. He was not aware that she had been hurled to the ground.
Mahendra hurried down at the sound of the fall, and found Binodini's elbow bleeding. "O I say!" he exclaimed. "What a nasty cut!" He tore a piece off his muslin tunic, and prepared a bandage for her wound.
But Binodini moved her arm out of his reach. "Don't touch it, let it bleed," she said.
"Let me do it up with a little medicine, so that it'll heal quickly without hurting you."
"I want it to hurt, let the scar remain," repeated Binodini, moving away still further.
"Can you forgive me for having in my agitation caused others to doubt you?"
Binodini:—"What's there to forgive?—you did right. What do I care for others' doubts? Are they who spurn me in scorn all in all,—and the supplicant at my feet nothing to me?"
Mahendra's whole being was convulsed as he said in choking accents: "Then you will not disdain my love?"
"I'll wear it as a crown," replied
