They soon fell into conversation about the place they had left, when the mention of Shunah Shoo's name excited my attention. "'What a shame,' said one, 'that he should have sacrificed that beautiful young creature to the rich old Omrah, when she had so good an offer as Gurameer, the Brahmin Gafawad's only son.' "'And is it not strange,' said the other, 'that a woman so young and beautiful, should be content to follow to the grave one who is old enough to be her grandfather, and whom she once loathed? But I suppose that that old miser, Shunah Shoo, is at the bottom of it; and, as he deprived her of the man she loved, he has compelled her to sacrifice herself to the one she hates, that he may have her jewels and wealth.' "'For that matter,' said the first, 'though Shunah Shoo is bad enough for any thing where money is in the way, yet it is said that Veenah goes to the funeral pile of her own accord. She has never seemed to set any value on life since her marriage; and after she heard of Gurameer's death, she has never been seen to smile. Poor young man!'--And here they launched out into a strain of panegyric, which is often bestowed on the dead; but I heeded only the first part of their discourse. Had it not been nearly dark, they must have discovered the force of the feelings which then agitated me. I trembled from head to foot, and, though burning with impatience to obtain from them farther particulars, it was some moments before I could trust myself to speak. At length I asked them when the Suttee would take place; and was answered by one of them, that it would certainly be performed on the following day; and that he had seen the funeral pile himself. Without any farther delay, I set out immediately for the city, and reached it in as short a time as a jaded horse could carry me.