I sat for awhile, and then started for a walk, somewhere, anywhere, I did not know, or care. I did not wish to see my wife, as I could not trust myself to meet her just then. As I expected, when I returned, she had gone out with her Hon. friend for a drive in the phaeton, so I started in the direction of my villages. I halted at a village several miles from the station, telling the sais that I was ill, and very ill I was, too. How long the hours were! How slowly the minutes crept! I held my watch in my hand, counted the tick, ticks, as if every one was taunting me with my wretchedness. So I waited and ate grief for my dinner. Eleven o’clock came, and I turned towards home. Home! How suddenly it had changed to Hell! I formed no plans. I doubted, I feared, I hoped. Nearing the station I went by a back lane to the stables, and taking the luggage myself, went through the garden to the arbor. There I found Ram Kishn. To show his sympathy in the dark, he took both my hands in his and pressed them without uttering a word. After some moments of silence I whispered, “Ram Kishn, is it,” and interrupting me, he said, “We’ll see, sahib, come with me.” I followed him to a side door which we entered, for it seems that he had quietly unfastened this door. He lit the night lantern, and drew the slide to hide the light, and we silently groped our way to our bedroom, yes, our bedroom. As we entered it, he drew the slide, and there upon my bed, our bed, they were both asleep in each other’s arms! If I had been dazed before, I was paralyzed now. It was well that I had formed no plan and taken no weapon, but it would have been useless, as I could not raise my arms. I could not think; my power of speech was gone. In an instant, at the glow of the light, they both awoke with a scream of fright. I turned and left the room. Often since that terrible moment I have thought of what I might, could, would or should have done. That is always the way. Most people can think afterward, when it is too late for thinking. But it was well that my guardian angel or something kept me from taking a pistol or even a stick in my hand. It has all passed, except the sad remembrance, and I console myself with the thought that when one has done his best, that whatever is, is best. I went out into the darkness, wishing that it could engulf and hide me forever. On and on for miles down the metaled road, thinking, but all my thoughts ran into a delirium. When the morning sun shone into my face, I found myself seated on the sand by the roadside looking toward home. Home! I had none. It had vanished in the darkness. Strange, is it not, that after a lapse of years old scenes will suddenly flash upon one? It is true that a thousand times I had thought of my mother, but at that moment I saw the dear little mama, with those beautiful eyes wide open, looking, looking while her heart was breaking, dying! I could realize her bitter sorrow, for was not my heart breaking too?