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392 style, keeping his whereabouts as best as he could from the knowledge of any of his friends or relations. His days thus passed until at the end of a twelve-month from the time of his leaving Prosadpur his funds were exhausted, and he was in distress. Then after six years he thought he would write a letter to his wife.

He took the writing materials and sat down to write. And he could scarcely keep the tears out of his eyes as he was about to put pen to paper. Was his wife alive? If she was not, what was the good of writing? But he must know the fact. If his letter was not acknowledged he might be sure of the worst.

For a long while he thought how to word his letter. At length he began thus:—

"Bhramar,

"After six years this bad man is writing to you. Read through the letter, or you may tear it up without reading, just as you like, if you do not care to know the contents.

"You will have heard all. It was as luck would have it; but I fear you will think that I say it not as I feel, but only because, being in distress, I need your help very much.

"I do feel it and have felt it often, though really I am in great distress. I am penniless. I earnestly ask you to send me some money. If you refuse, I have no alternative left but to beg my bread from door to door; but I had much rather die of hunger than stoop to that.

"I have no one to go to. Had mother been alive (I am sure you have heard of her death) I would have gone to Benares to her. But Fate is resolved to make me unhappy.

"I am suffering hunger. I think I will go to Haridragram. You will ask how I can show my face there—I who am a disgrace to the name of Roy, I who committed murder. But what care I now for what people will say? Do you, however, not think worse of me than you can help. For the pang of hunger I ask you to send me some money. Will you comply with my request? Will you for pity's sake? "Gobindalal."

Gobindalal posted the letter, wondering what the answer would be.

The letter duly reached Bhramar, who knew the hand at a glance. She opened it with a trembling hand, and went and shut herself up in her room. When she was alone she read it through, not once or twice or thrice, but many times over, the tears streaming down her face, and she wiping them away as often as they threatened to fall off and blot the letter.

Bhramar did not open the door again that day. When her sister-in-law called her to come to supper she told her she was feverish; and she was believed, as her health had, for a long time, become very bad.

She had passed a sleepless night. When she got out of bed the next morning she actually felt feverish; but she seemed calm and resigned. She had decided what reply she would send, and she now began at once without thinking:—

"I am in receipt of your letter.

"The property, which is legally yours, I have long made over to you. Although you tore up the deed of conveyance (you remember you did) there is a copy of it at the Registrar's office.

"I wish you would come home.

"In your absence I have saved a large sum of money. It is yours.

"Out of this money I shall, if you will let me, take a small sum. I ask no more than eight thousand rupees. This I want for my own maintenance.

"I will go to my father's. Kindly let me know when you are coming home so that before I leave I may arrange things against your coming.

"I think it is better we should never meet again, and I am sure you wish it too.

"I shall look to hear from you again by an early post. Bhramar."

In due course Gobindalal received his wife's letter. He was struck by the singularly cold manner in which it was worded. He wrote back to say that with respect to going home he had changed his mind, but that he would feel very thankful if she would kindly send him a monthly assistance.

In reply to his letter his wife wrote again to say that she would send him monthly five hundred rupees, which she thought would be sufficient to make him comfortable. She would have wished to send more had she not feared that the money might be squandered. Furthermore she said that she had not many days left, and that she saw no reason why, because he would not live