that Ramabai was a lone widow, it added a fresh drop of bitterness to her cup of sorrow. To this time of heavy trial she thus refers in a letter to an American friend:—
"My husband being of low caste, my marriage was altogether against the country's customs, and we were despised and shunned by all our most intimate friends and relations. So much was this the case that my husband's brother would not write to him, for fear of losing caste. Under such circumstances we had no intercourse with many, and were too proud to ask any favours. I therefore resolved to do what I could to take care of myself and my baby, independent of all friends and relatives. I made this promise to my dear husband before he left me."
Only one woman was brave enough to hold out a helping hand to the lonely outcast, or to send her a message of sympathy. This was a kinswoman of her own, Anandibai Joshee, then living with her husband at Serampore, not far from Calcutta. She invited Ramabai, whom she had never yet met, to go and stay with her; but the generous offer was proudly, though gratefully, declined. Ramabai' s brave heart did not fail her, and she once more resumed her former role of lecturer, urging more than ever the emancipation of the women of her race from the degraded condition into which they had fallen, and
