'To save time, I will tell thee. Out of past years--_as thou didst disappear in them_--thou shalt return--_as thou didst go_--Krishn Davenund, Brahmin, twice-born. There shall be no question asked, no answers needed. Thou shalt return to us--I, Viseshwar Nâth, _parohit_ of thy race, say it, and none shall quarrel me--thou shalt return to hold a woman's hand, and circle the sacred fire--_her_ hand, Naraini's, whom the gods keep for thee, whom I, child, have kept for thee!' The words with the nameless rhythm in them, which the use of Sanskrit phrases gives to the vulgar tongue, echoed softly into the arches, and Chris felt his eyes, his ears held captive by the insignificant figure that was hedged about by no sign of dignity or office save the leopard skin on which it crouched, naked. 'Kept for me--how so?' he echoed, trying once more to be resentful. The Swâmi smiled. 'Hast, indeed, forgotten the old life so utterly, boy, as never to have wondered why one of Naraini's age remained virgin in thy mother's house?' Chris felt the blood go tingling to his face; for he could not pretend to such ignorance. He knew that the limit of laxity in such matters had almost been overpast in the hope that when he returned from England he would marry the girl. But that possibility had vanished when he had married Viva. Therefore, to blame him for the subsequent delay was unfair; so he answered boldly-- 'I have not wondered. I have known and regretted the idle dream. But that was over long ago--ere my father died. Had he chosen, he might----' The Swâmi's hand stopped him once more. 'Not so,' he said calmly. 'If thou hast forgotten much, there are other things thou hast never known; that none would have known save thy father and I--not even thy mother--hadst thou been dutiful and fulfilled the dream. Listen and reflect! Thy cousin Naraini was betrothed or ever she came to thy father's house, betrothed as an infant to one who--who left her.' 'Left her?' echoed Chris hotly, 'wherefore?' 'That matters not,' replied Viseshwar Nâth; 'there be many reasons, but the result is the same: _if the betrothed be dead, Naraini is widow!_' In the pause Chris clenched his hands; for he saw whither the wily lips were leading him, and in a flash realised his own impotence if this were true. 'It is a lie!' he muttered helplessly. 'I must--my mother must have known. And my father----' Then memory came to remind him that his father had been a champion of widow remarriage, and he broke off still more helplessly.