The day before the officials arrived from Cooch Behar, I fell ill with fever. After a restless night, I awoke to find my father and mother standing by my bedside.
They looked at each other. “Have you told Sunity?” asked my father.
“No,” replied mother, “it is better you should.”
“Listen, Sunity,” said my father. “Has Prosonna Babu mentioned some visitors who are expected to-day?”
“Yes, he said that some Englishmen are coming to see the school; and, father,” I faltered, “I can’t get up.”
“Sunity,” answered my father in that loving voice which always made us children thrill with affection, “it is not the school. These gentlemen are coming to see you.”
“To see me!” I cried. “Why?” “Sunity,” said my father in a gentle voice, “these people are coming to see you, and if we all agree, perhaps some day you will marry a handsome young Maharajah.”
I hid my face in my pillow. I could not speak. Marriage was to me an undiscussed subject. I had never considered it. I felt so shy I became quite red in the face.
After a few hours I was told to get ready. Mother gave me some lovely jewels which looked beautiful on my mauve and gold sari. My hair was dressed. We drove over to dear Miss Pigot’s school-house, where I usually had lessons. I was very nervous, and through fear and ague combined I trembled like a leaf.
I rested a little while on the verandah. While I was there I was given a strong dose of quinine. I shall never forget the unpleasant taste of that special draught.