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The old woman thought, "That is true," and went further into the wood gathering sticks. Thus the day passed vainly; the night brought no more success. The two following days brought no tidings, though nothing was neglected in the search. Of the male searchers, scarcely any one knew Surja Mukhi by sight; so they seized many poor women and brought them before Nagendra.
Formerly, when one of his gomashtas had beaten a ryot and taken a rupee from him, Nagendra had cut ten rupees from the gomashta's pay and given it to the ryot. Hara Deb Ghosal wrote to Nagendra: "What has happened to you? I cannot imagine what you are doing. I receive no letters from you, or, if I do, they contain but two or three lines without any meaning. Have you taken offence with me?
There was another door near the bedstead, but as the wind did not blow in that direction he left it open. Nagendra sat on the sofa, weeping bitterly. How often had he sat there with Surja Mukhi; what pleasant talks they had had! Again and again Nagendra embraced that senseless seat; then raising his face he looked at the pictures so dear to Surja Mukhi.
Srish Chandra was sitting alone in his boita khana one evening, when Nagendra entered, carpet-bag in hand, and throwing the bag to a distance, silently took a seat. Srish Chandra, seeing his distressed and wearied condition, was alarmed, but knew not how to ask an explanation. He knew that Nagendra had received the Brahmachari's letter at Benares, and had gone thence to Madhupur.
Surja Mukhi said: "If you do not know what is the fault, how can I? I only beg that for my sake you will give it up." Nagendra replied: "Surja Mukhi, I am a drunkard! If devotion should be paid to a drunkard, pay it to me; otherwise it is not called for." Surja Mukhi left the room to conceal her tears, since her weeping irritated her husband, and led him to strike the servants.
Then he returned to the house, and sat down with Srish Chandra, to whom he said: "The Brahmachari must have learned from her where she went, and what she did. Tell me all he said to you." "Why talk of it now?" said Srish; "take some rest." Nagendra frowned, and commanded Srish Chandra to speak. Srish perceived that Nagendra had become like a madman. His face was dark as a thunder-cloud.
Be not careless about love; for in love is man's only spotless and imperishable joy, the final means by which his nature can be elevated. Without love man could not dwell in this world that he has made so evil." Nagendra Natha's reply: "I have not answered your letter until now because of the trouble of my mind. I understand all you have written, and I know your counsel is good.
To-day he was without reply to the formerly speechless Kunda Nandini. Kunda remained silent for some time; she was losing the power of speech, death was taking possession. Then Nagendra saw the death-shadowed face full of love. Its gentle light shining in her troubled face, remained stamped on Nagendra's heart to his latest day. After a rest, she said, with great difficulty
Malati went with her news to Debendra, who resolved to visit Hira's house on the following day, and bring the matter to a conclusion. Kunda was now a caged bird, ever restless. Two currents uniting become a powerful stream. So it was in Kunda's heart. On one side shame, insult, expulsion by Surja Mukhi; on the other, passion for Nagendra.
"The doctor told me to keep you warm," replied the old woman. In the absence of Nagendra and Surja Mukhi from their spacious home, all was darkness therein. The clerks sat in the office, and Kunda Nandini dwelt in the inner apartments with the poor relations. But how can stars dispel the darkness of a moonless night?
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