He was ignorant of the events which had driven her to seek shelter under a stranger's roof, except of what rumour gave, but Madhav knew Matangini too well to suspect that a light cause could have driven this brave-hearted girl to a step which published her own unhappiness and her failure to evince the patience of a woman and a wife. He well understood and appreciated the reasons which had deterred her from seeking shelter in her sister's house when shelter had become necessary to her. But he was unable to account for her leaving home, and still less for her sudden and strange disappearance. That Matangini had come to know of the conspiracy formed against his property by dacoits and that she had given the timely warning which frustrated their purpose, drove Madhav into a thousand torturing conjectures as to her fate, but each surmise he rejected as wild and unreasonable. Certain he was, so well did he know her character, that whatever might have been her misfortune, she had not been guilty of a dishonourable desertion of her household. Assured, therefore, in his mind that she had come by some misfortune, his heart underwent excruciating torments. The deep and tender feeling which he had stifled in his breast at such cost, seemed to burn with redoubled fervour. His thoughts long dwelt on the remembrance of that parting scene; he recalled every word that she had uttered, and tears rushed to his eyes. Long did he muse and weep in silence. At length he rose from his seat and, as if to forget his reflections in the touch of the
