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116 THE WRECK

able, and he sprang up and quitted his cabin. The deep gloom of the over-arching sky forced on him the con- viction that, after all, his shame and his heartache were not infinite things encompassing all time and space. Those stars shining overhead were things of eternity, and the pitiful little story of the loves of Ramesh and Hemnalini would never even reach them. On how many such autumn nights would the great river flow on through the starlight by sandy shoal, waving reeds, and tree-girt sleeping village long after Ramesh's mortal frame, burnt to ashes on the pyre, had mingled with the much-enduring earth and his troubled spirit was forever still !

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