Tulsí Rám, distressed and anxious, took out hastily from his bosom his Father’s letter, and quickly turned over the pages, to find if it gave any directions for the treatment of a case like that of his brother. Very grave was his face, and earnest his tones, as he read aloud the words of Him who is truth itself: If thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that shall never be quenched: where their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched.
“What is the meaning of those terrible words?” inquired Nihál Chand, who trembled to hear them.
“O brother! the meaning is clear,” cried Tulsí Rám. “Whatever be the anguish which it may cost, by the means of Help from above we must part from and cast from us whatever is tainted by the poison of sin. You can never have health, never have peace, nay, your very life is in imminent peril, unless whatever has been poisoned by the Uljhánewale gunah be instantly and thoroughly cut away.”
Poor unhappy Nihál Chand looked like one in despair. Even the lightest touch on the poisoned place gave him pain; how could he then endure suffering which the knife would inflict?
Juwalí had taken the Book from the hand of her husband, and now, with a trembling voice, read this sentence aloud: Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord and He will have mercy upon him, and unto our God, for He will abundantly pardon.
The words were words of hope, and from hope some courage came back to the heart of Nihál Chand. “I will submit,” he said; “and if I suffer, I suffer but according to my deserts.”
Silently but sadly Nihál Chand endured the needful anguish; the part poisoned by the serpent was cut away, while Juwalí, on her knees, wept and prayed for her erring brother.
“Now, O Nihál! you have parted with that which kept you from peace,” said the faithful Tulsí Rám, whose heart had bled for the sinner even while, with Help from above, he had inflicted the pain; “now once more you may hope to possess our Father’s gift of Pardon, Purity, and Heaven.”
“Never!” groaned Nihál Chand. “When I yielded to Temptation, when I gave up my threefold treasure, it was lost to me past recovery. Go on, ye happy ones! for the treasure may still be yours; but as for me, I shall carry a scar on my breast, and a deep wound in my heart, to my grave.”
Nihál Chand closed his eyes, for he was too faint and too much exhausted to speak more, far less to proceed on his way. The souls of Tulsí Rám and Juwalí were full of compassion for him who so bitterly repented having given way to Temptation, and who so mourned over the disgrace which he had brought on the name of Christian. Tulsí Rám resolved to remain for a while by his brother, till Nihál Chand should be refreshed by a little rest. Juwalí, at her husband’s desire, retired to the distance of a few paces, leaving the brothers together. There Juwalí knelt down and prayed for her husband, and for herself, and for the penitent Nihál Chand. Then, being very weary, Juwalí dropped asleep at the foot of a banyan-tree.