Athira, a woman, burning--burning--burning.

This was how things befell; and the Policeman's Diary will bear me out.

Athira was the wife of Madu, who was a charcoal-burner, one-eyed and of
a malignant disposition. A week after their marriage, he beat Athira
with a heavy stick. A month later, Suket Singh, Sepoy, came that way to
the cool hills on leave from his regiment, and electrified the villagers
of Kodru with tales of service and glory under the Government, and the
honour in which he, Suket Singh, was held by the Colonel Sahib Bahadur.
And Desdemona listened to Othello as Desdemonas have done all the world
over, and, as she listened, she loved.

'I've a wife of my own,' said Suket Singh, 'though that is no matter
when you come to think of it. I am also due to return to my regiment
after a time, and I cannot be a deserter--I who intend to be Havildar.'
There is no Himalayan version of 'I could not love thee, dear, as much,
Loved I not Honour more;' but Suket Singh came near to making one.

'Never mind,' said Athira, 'stay with me, and, if Madu tries to beat me,
you beat him.'

'Very good,' said Suket Singh; and he beat Madu severely, to the delight
of all the charcoal-burners of Kodru.

'That is enough,' said Suket Singh, as he rolled Madu down the hillside.
'Now we shall have peace.' But Madu crawled up the grass slope again,
and hovered round his hut with angry eyes.

'He'll kill me dead,' said Athira to Suket Singh. 'You must take me