the fruits, the trees, the houses, were all reflected in that blue water mirror. Now and again the cuckoo’s voice. All this can in some way be described, but what Rohini was thinking of in connection with that sky, the tank, and the cuckoo's song I cannot explain. This was my meaning in saying that the telling about this tank had thrown me into difficulties.
I am in a difficulty, and so also was Gobind Lâl. He also, from behind that mass of flowering creepers, had seen Rohini descend the ghât steps and sit alone, weeping. Gobind Lâl came to the conclusion. that it was some girl from the village who was crying in consequence of some quarrel with a boy. I cannot trust so much to his conclusions. Rohini still wept.
I know not what Rohini was thinking of, but I fancy it was something in this strain. "For what fault was I destined to become a widow while still a child? In what am I a greater sinner than others that I should be permitted none of the joys of earth? For what fault am I, still young, condemned to pass my life like a piece of dried wood? Those who have all the joys of this life—as, for instance,
