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That very night Bhabani Charan gave a crimson silk sari to Mahamaya and told her to put it on at once. Then he said, "Follow me." Nobody had ever disobeyed Bhabani Charan's bidding or even his hint; Mahamaya herself was no exception to it.

That night the two walked to the burning-place on the river bank, not far from their home. There in the hut for sheltering dying men brought to the holy river's side, an old Brahman was lying in expectation of death. The two went up to his bedside. A Brahman priest was present in one corner of the room; Bhabani Charan beckoned to him. The priest quickly got his things ready for the happy ceremony. Mahamaya realised that she was to be married to this dying man, but she did not make the least objection. In the dim room, (partly) lit up by the glare of two funeral pyres hard by, the muttered sacred texts mingled with the groans of the dying as Mahamaya's marriage was celebrated.

The day following her marriage she became a widow. But she did not feel excessively grieved at the bereavement. And Rajib, too, was not so crushed by the news of her widowhood as he had been by the unexpected tidings of her marriage. Nay, he felt rather cheered. But this feeling did not last long. A second terrible blow laid him utterly in the dust: he heard that there was a grand ceremony at the burning ghat that day, as Mahamaya was going to burn herself with her husband's corpse.

At first he thought of informing his Sahib and forcibly stopping the cruel sacrifice with his help. But then he recollected that the Sahib had made over charge and left for Sonapur that very day; he had wanted to take Rajib away with him, but the youth had stayed behind on a month's leave.

Mahamaya had told him, "Do you wait for me." This request he must by no means disregard. He had at first taken a month's leave, but if need were he would take two months', then three months' leave and finally throw up the Sahib's service and live by begging, yet he would wait for her to his life's close.

Just when Rajib was going to rush out madly and commit suicide or some other terrible deed, a deluge of rain came down with a desolating storm at sunset. The tempest threatened to tumble his house down on his head. He gained some composure when he found the convulsion in outer Nature harmonising with the storm within his soul. It seemed to him that all Nature had taken up his cause and was going to bring to him some sort of remedy. The force he wished to apply in his own person but could not, was now being applied by Nature herself over earth and sky (in furtherance of the work of his heart).

At such a time some one pushed the door hard from the outside. Rajib hastened to open it. A woman entered the room, clad in a wet garment, with a long veil covering her entire face. Rajib at once knew her for Mahamaya.

In a heightened voice he asked, "Mahamaya, have you come away from the funeral pyre?" She replied, "Yes, I had promised to you to come to your house. Here I am, to keep my word. But, Rajib, I am not exactly the same person, I am changed altogether. I am the Mahamaya of old in my mind only. Speak now, I can yet go back to the funeral pyre. But if you swear never to draw my veil aside, never to look on my face,—then I shall live in your house."

It was enough to get her back from the hand of Death; all other considerations vanished before it. Rajib promptly replied, "Live here in any fashion you like,—if you leave me I shall die." Mahamaya said, "Then come away at once. Let us go where your Sahib has gone on transfer."

Abandoning all his property in that house, Rajib sallied forth into the midst of the storm with Mahamaya. The force of the wind made it hard for them to stand erect,—the gravels driven by the wind pricked their limbs like buck shot. The two took to the open fields, lest the trees by the roadside should crash down on their heads. The violence of the wind struck them from behind, as if the tempest had torn the couple asunder from human habitations and was blowing them away on to destruction.

The reader must not discredit my tale as false or supernatural. There are traditions of a few such occurrences having taken