“Then I die happy, and with a foretaste of bliss enter into immortal life, assured of the grace of the goddess both to you and me, through the wonder she has worked in receiving me as a sacrifice in your place. Holy Trinity, holy Durga!” cried he, in a louder voice, and stretching out his arms as though animated with fresh strength; “receive me into the temple of your glory! I come!” With these words he fell back motionless, and the faithful follower of the Goddess of Destruction was no more.
For some time the hermit remained gazing at the lifeless body, to which, in the wavering light, its emaciation, dark colour, and forehead marked with the red and white symbols of Siva, gave a ghostly aspect.
“To what,” he muttered, “cannot religion or fanaticism lead! it turns otherwise good and quiet people into criminals, murderers, and mad-men. Still this man is in no way to be pitied; he died as a martyr, in the full conviction of being received into endless happiness. But the hypocrites, the shameless villains, such as Gorakh, who make use of such simple souls as tools wherewith to execute their accursed plans, what of them? What do they deserve but a war of destruction? Yet no,” he continued, shaking his head, “that would not be right. No mercy where a crime has been committed or attempted; but no persecution when it is only threatened. Who can place the limit where a religious sect becomes dangerous, and where it is not?” Here the return of the servant interrupted his thoughts.
“Help me,” he said, “to carry this man who lies here. He is dead, but I do not wish that Hara should devour him, which otherwise he certainly will do; and when we have finished, then to horse. Hasten you to Kashmir, to warn the Minister of what we have learnt; and endeavour to trace out the brother of this man, whom you well know. Seek to hinder him in his undertaking, and to prevent his communicating with any of his associates. If you can, also discover where Gorakh is; do not spare him for a moment: the wretch doubly deserves the cord he prepares for the necks of others.”
“But, honoured master,” asked the servant, with hesitation, “must I leave you entirely alone here in the wilderness? It seems that your place of refuge is now discovered, and there may be fresh attempts on your life. Must I leave you, just at this moment when I might be of service?”
“My best friend,” answered Gurupada, smiling, “do not disturb yourself about me. What is my life in comparison with the greater interests that depend on the speedy execution of your mission? I am here as safe as with you for my guard, at least as long as Hara lives. You have seen how brave a guard he is. I would not advise any more of these marauders to show themselves in the neighbourhood. Hara now knows those kind of people, and is not inclined to allow them to come here in peace. Is your horse ready?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Well, quickly away. First, help me with our work here.”
[1] Abú-l Fazl, in 1598, was sent by Akbar to the Dakhin. Salim broke out in rebellion; and the Emperor, in his trouble, sent for his trusty Minister. Abú-l Fazl hastened to rejoin his master. But Salim, who had always hated the Minister, instigated a Rajpút chief of Bandalkhand, named Bir Singh of Urchah, to waylay him. Abú-l Fazl was murdered near Narwar, on the 12th of August 1602, and Bir Singh fled from the wrath of Akbar, leading the life of an outlaw in the jungle until the death of the great Emperor.