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outside. Along every thoroughfare and alley poured a stream of humanity like a river in flood, every face bright with anticipation of the coming holidays.

Ramesh hesitated to take his stand beside her and he paused on the threshold with his eyes on her motion-less figure. Framed in the mellow autumn sunshine of the open window it made a picture that was to remain indelibly fixed in his memory. Every detail — the soft curve of her cheek, the elaborate braiding of her hair, the delicate wisps about her neck and the glint of the golden necklace beneath them, the graceful sweep of her garment off the left shoulder — made its lasting impression on his sick brain.

Slowly he approached her. She took no notice of her lover but gazed the more intently at the panorama of the streets. His voice trembled as he broke the silence."I must beg something of you."

Hemnalini felt the pain that throbbed in his utterance and she turned towards him.

"Do 'not lose faith in me!" he cried; "tell me that you will never distrust me. I call Heaven to witness that I will never cease to deserve your trust." It was the first time that he had used the "thou" of close intimacy in addressing Hemnalini.

Not another word could he utter, and a film of tears gathered over his eyes.

Hemnalini looked up pityingly, and gazed stead-fastly into his face ; then suddenly she melted, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. And so, as the lovers stood side by side in the seclusion of that window-bay, their eyes met. Though not a word was spoken, a blissful peace descended on them both, and in the rapture that it brought in its train they tasted heaven.

With a deep sigh of relief Ramesh broke the stillness. "Do you know why I suggested postponing our marriage for a week?" he asked. Hemnalini shook her head. She did not want to know.