Looking at those near him, with determination in every line of his set young face, the Maharajah, said: “Now give good heed to my words. I am going to bed. If I am to marry this girl, wake me up. Otherwise have my horse in readiness, for I shall ride away from Cooch Behar for good and all to-morrow morning. If I cannot marry this girl, I will marry no one.”
A great hush fell on those who heard, and there was general consternation. Never before had Nripendra Narayan Bhup so asserted himself. His councillors saw that their ruler intended to have his own way.
It was now midnight. My father was alone in his quiet house, as one and all had left for the palace. His soul was far beyond all earthly things, for he communed with the God who had never forsaken him. I believe that in that solemn hour he found the peace so healing to his soul.
Suddenly the sound of carriage wheels broke the stillness of the night. Steps hurried up the stairs. The door was flung open, and Mr. Dalton, pale and breathless, stood before my father.
“Mr. Sen,” he cried, “the wedding must and shall take place to-night. The service shall be exactly as you wish. I’ll be there to see that it is not interfered with. Come quickly. We’ve not a moment to lose. There is another auspicious hour at 3 a.m. Let it be then.”
As he spoke he handed my father a written agreement confirming his words, and told him that the Lieutenant-Governor had telegraphed: “Let the marriage be performed according to the rites as settled in Calcutta.”
Mr. Dalton almost dragged my father to the waiting carriage, and followed by some of our friends they made their way with difficulty through the crowded streets.
Then as in a fairy tale the scene changed. The stillness was broken by music. The darkness was flooded with light. The whole town was illuminated in an instant; the band played, the conch shells sounded, fireworks were sent up. All was joyous and brilliant.
Our wedding was celebrated in an enormous tent: the crowd remarked that I looked very nice in a pale blue sari with raised gold flowers worked upon it and a bright red satin veil with masses of gold, the creation of a French dressmaker. But I felt very nervous when, seated on a piece of wood, I was carried between lines of soldiers, the Maharajah following close behind.