They then plunged into the
jungle with their drawn weapons, where they
speedily found Sadhu Sing holding in his arms the
lifeless corpse of his bride, where a little farther
lay the body of the tiger, slain by such a blow
over the neck as desperation itself could alone have
discharged.---The brideless bridegroom would permit
none to interfere with his sorrow. He dug a
grave for his Mora, and erected over it the rude
tomb they saw, and never afterwards left the spot.
The beasts of prey themselves seemed to respect
or dread the extremity of his sorrow. His friends
brought him food and water from the nullah, but
he neither smiled nor showed any mark of acknowledgment
unless when they brought him flowers
to deck the grave of Mora. Four or five years,
according to the guide, had passed away, and there
Sadhu Sing still remained among the trophies of
his grief and his vengeance, exhibiting all the
symptoms of advanced age, though still in the
prime of youth. The tale hastened the travellers
from their resting-place; the Vakeel because it
reminded him of the dangers of the jungle, and
Hartley because it coincided too well with the
probable fate of his beloved, almost within the
grasp of a more formidable tiger than that whose
skeleton lay beside Sadhu Sing.
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