life. So long as she had her child's companionship and
affection, she was blessed among women; even the little world of Sombari
was glorified.

But, alas! on that morning of Honor Bright's visit, death had robbed
Mrs. Meek of all that life held for her. Honor understood how completely
she was bereft, and her own heart overflowed with sympathy. Her one ewe
lamb had been taken, and in her grief, the foundations of the mother's
faith were shaken.

She turned her face to the wall and cried out against her Maker. "From
him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath!" was the
burden of her sorrowful cry.

"What had I to make life worth the living! My child was all in all to
me, and she has been snatched from me! Of what use is religion since
even my prayers could not avail? It is comfortless. God is cruel. He
tramples on our hearts. He has no pity." Such were the outbursts of the
poor, stricken heart.

She was the picture of abandonment in the comfortless room, ascetic in
its lack of dainty feminine accessories. The floor was covered with
coarse bamboo matting such as the Brights used in their pantry and
bathrooms. Cretonne _pardars_[11] hung in the doorways; the furniture
was rough and country-made; the bed-linen and coverings were from the
mills of Cawnpur. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth," had
been Mr. Meek's justification for confining his expenditure to the
barest necessaries of life. But, on the other hand, he indulged himself
in his hobby for raising prize cattle for the local _Melas_[12]. Prize
cattle had their use and did not come under the head of extravagance as
did furnishing according to taste and fancy; so Mrs. Meek and her
daughter had to suffer the lack of the refinements of life to the
mortification of their spirits and the discomfort of their bodies, in
order that their souls might be purged of the vanities and lusts of the
flesh.

[Footnote 11: Curtains.]

[Footnote 12: Fairs.]

"You must not fight against the decrees of the Almighty," said the nurse
reproachfully, as Honor knelt beside the bed and embraced the unhappy
mother.

"Don't talk all that clap-trap to one in torment," said the girl
contemptuously. "People are too ready to put all the blame on God when
they are bereaved."

If a thunderbolt had fallen in the room it could not have had a more
startling effect than this outburst of Honor's. The nurse recoiled in
horror thinking she was in the presence of a