“I had not long passed the river of Baptism when I was joined by a stranger, dark in face, but wearing gaudy attire, and of a smooth and flattering tongue.”
“Methinks I know him,” said Tulsí Rám; “surely his name is Temptation.”
“He walked by my side,” continued Nihál Chand, “praising my courage and zeal, till my heart was lifted up with pride, and I thought that nothing but success and glory could be before me. I reached the foot of the Cross; there I found, according to the words of my Father’s messenger, a precious golden casket. On opening it, I found within a beauteous ornament,—even the magnificent jewels joined together in one setting of gold. Over the ruby, Pardon, were inscribed the words, Thy sins be forgiven thee. Round the pearl, Purity, appeared engraved, Holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. And I beheld written round the glittering diamond, It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Never was there an ornament so precious or so beautiful as this free gift from our Father.”
The eyes of Juwalí sparkled at the description given by Nihál Chand. Tulsí Rám inquired,—“Why did you not at once, O my brother, place the treasure upon your heart?”
“Because of the words of Temptation, treacherous Temptation!” exclaimed the miserable Nihál Chand. “He persuaded me that though Pardon is a precious gift, and Heaven a prize that the mightiest rajah might covet, yet that the pale pearl, Purity, was what few would desire to wear. Temptation offered me in its stead a yellow stone, which he said was of greater value, and to which he gave the name of Pleasure. Woe is me! woe is me! that ever I listened to the voice of Temptation, that I ever was persuaded to part with my pearl for that which afterwards broke in my hands, as a piece of worthless glass! I thought that I could give away Purity and yet keep Pardon and Heaven. I let Temptation take my treasure into his hand, that he might separate the pearl from the ruby and diamond. But the three may never be divided. Temptation, taking advantage of my worse than folly, rushed suddenly away whither I had no power to follow him, bearing with him all that I had dared so much to win.”
“Leaving nothing with you!” cried Tulsí Rám.
“Leaving remorse and shame, and a wretched imitation of a jewel, called Pleasure, which I found to be utterly worthless. Nor have you heard the end of my story. I wandered about for a while, unwilling to remain by the Cross, yet more unwilling to return to the city which I had left with such bright hopes and brave resolutions. At last I laid me down to sleep, but from that sleep I was startled by a sharp pain. The venomous reptile whose name is Uljhánewale gunah[38] had noiselessly crept towards me and inflicted this wound in my breast;” and raising his mantle, Nihál Chand showed a dark spot, which marked where the reptile’s fang had left its deadly poison.
Tulsí Rám and Juwalí beheld the wound with grief and alarm.
“O Nihál!” exclaimed the brother, “I know too well what are the effects of the bite of the Uljhánewale gunah. No serpent is more to be dreaded. The remedy is at once to cut out the wounded part. This must be done, and at once.” And Tulsí Rám drew forth a sharp knife which he carried in his girdle. On the handle of that knife was engraved its name—Help from above.
Nihál Chand was a brave man, and yet, strange to say, he shrank like a child from the pain which his brother thought it needful to inflict. “No, no!” he cried, with an impatient movement of the hand; “such sharp remedies are not required. Do not the healing leaves of Good Intentions grow abundantly in yon thicket? It will suffice to lay them upon the wound; they will soon draw all its poison away.”