Chapter VIII.
THE pilgrim band reached Dudhasthal, the furthest point of their journey, after spending about eight days in visiting various places by the way. Kamala was much impressed with the sight that met her eyes and with the loud roar of the rushing waters that fell upon her ears. The breeze came in gusts, making a hoarse melody. The voice of the forest was loud, and the hills echoed back the rush of the waters. Quaint little dwellings built of rounded stone and slabs were visible all round. At a distance from the waterfall the river broadened and just washed the feet of a huge Nundi (the sacred bull) carved in stone that stood aloof, frowning on all. The temple was in a dark grove all by itself a little away from the river. Kamala listened to the talk of the women about her. Some were throwing fried rice into the river, and some were breaking cocoanuts, while the elderly ones made quite a hue and cry as they saw the river leaping into the cavern below. Hari! Hari! Shiva! Shiva!” exclaimed the pious ones, “our sacred Ganga is being swallowed by the earth. There are enemies all around. Even Mother Earth is jealous of her good deeds and tries to thwart her in her good course.” Kamala was in the thick of the crowd standing on the steps very near to the dizzy rush of waters. The place had awakened sensations which she felt she had experienced before. She seemed to think that she was looking at an old familiar scene. The feeling was most powerful as she stood on the brink of the rushing river. There was a rock opposite to her, and she recognised it distinctly. She had heard the rush of the waters before. Surely she had seen it all. But what had happened there? Why that dreamy pain in her head? It was a throb of anguish. She seemed to have fallen into a trance, for who was it she saw near her leading her by the hand? It was the form of a noble lovely woman who wore a diamond bracelet. The waters hissed and roared round her, and in a moment she felt her foot slip and herself carried forward. Then she seemed to see the woman plunge after her with a cry. The dreadful pool, ah! how dark it looked! A dart of pain passed through her. She was grasped and pulled out by the woman, but when was it and where? Had she really once gone through it all before? What was it that brought it all so vividly to her recollection? While thus absorbed, a voice fell on her ears and she started. It was her father’s voice which had strangely mingled with the vivid picture her mind had formed. It was like a strain of long forgotten music casting a spell on her and round her, and now it struck her ears distinctly as she seemed to awake as it were from her dream. She turned round with a great effort and just then she saw her father’s form disappear in the crowd. She cried:—“Father! Father!” and ran through the crowd. But what became of her father? For at the farthest end of the surging crowd she found herself alone on the steps of a temple in a dark grove. The sound of gongs