In a broken voice Nagendra asked, "Did any other woman live in her house?"
"No. In the month Sraban a stranger, falling sick, stayed in her house. She was placed there by the Brahmachari. I heard her name was Surja Mukhi. She was ill of consumption; I attended her, had almost cured her. Now—"
Breathing hard, Nagendra repeated, "Now?"
"In the destruction of Haro Mani's house the woman was burnt."
Nagendra fell from his chair, striking his head severely. The blow stunned him. The doctor attended to his needs.
Who would live in a world so full of sorrow? The poison tree grows in every one's court. Who would love? to have one's heart torn in pieces. Oh, Creator! why hast Thou not made this a happy world? Thou hadst the power if Thou hadst wished to make it a world of joy! Why is there so much sorrow in it?
When, at evening, Nagendra Natha left Madhupur in his palanquin, he said to himself—
"Now I have lost all. What is lost—happi-
