Forgetting herself, forgetting to think where she would go on the morrow, she gazed only on the face of her departing parent.

Gradually the old man's utterance became obscure, the breath left the throat, the eyes lost their light, the suffering soul obtained release from pain.

In that dark place, by that glimmering lamp, the solitary Kunda Nandini, drawing her father's dead body on to her lap, remained sitting.

The night was extremely dark; even now rain-drops fell, the leaves of the trees rustled, the wind moaned, the windows of the ruined house flapped noisily.

In the house, the fitful light of the lamp flickered momentarily on the face of the dead, and again left it in darkness.