They met at last—Nobo Kumar's widow and Gokul Das.

None among the old hereditary servants of the Debipur House mourned the death of Nobo Kumar more sincerely than Gokul Das. His life had been interwoven with that of his Master; he had followed him in his exile, schemed for his restoration, shared in his successes. And now, when the time had come to do his last signal service, his Master for whom he had lived and worked disappeared from the scene. The workman whose tool breaks in his hand when the work is all but finished mourns the loss, but Gokul Das's grief was personal and sincere. With little of human sentiments in his nature he had a dog's blind attachment for him whom he had followed from a boy for forty years. Few people believed the tears of the old intriguer to be genuine, but in truth they were so. If Gokul Das ever wept in real sorrow it was by the bed where Nobo Kumar's lifeless body lay.

He had followed that body to the banks of the Ganges and attended the cremation. He had returned bare-footed to Debipur and arranged for the great funeral sacrifice which was celebrated. He had accosted Sirish as his new Master and waited for further commands.

The commands came in due course. The venerable old widow, who had no other tie on earth, would retire to religious life at Mathura on the banks of the