THE SLAVE GIRL OF AGRA
orphan, and recounted to her all his bidden ambitions. She, tender soul, scarcely understood what the passionate boy felt and suffered and hoped, but she could feel for him as no one else did, and soothed him as no one else could. Thus they grew up, the little boy and the little girl, attached to each other by a secret sympathy, cherished all the more keenly because bidden from the world.
Sirish had come between them later, and to him the little girl was a gentle friend and playmate. Sirish asked for nothing more. Even in his wildest fancy he scarcely aspired to win this beauteous girl, the only child of a father who was now all-powerful in the land. Yet his calm, meditative eyes indicated deep thought and a resolution which few could guess. If he too had his secret ambitions they never found utterance.
To-night Sirish was pleased to see Hemlata watching his work, and went on, attentive and patient. Noren was nervous and restless, and often looked at Sirish and Hemlata with ill-concealed jealousy. Half an hour passed by; Sirish’s work was complete, and Hemlata clapped her little hands in joy to see the house so well done. Her merry laughter stung Noren; his hands shook, and his house of sand fell.
“Why, Noren, thou hast done nothing this evening. Where is thy boasted skill?" asked Sirish, as he came arm-in-arm with the girl to the place where Noren stood silent and morose.
"I want to do nothing this evening," said Noren, petulantly, kicking away the remains of his house.
"Then why didst thou ask me to come to the riverside, and why didst thou keep this girl here so
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