About three hours after noon, the marriage feast was provided for an immense number of guests, who had assembled from all quarters upon this joyous occasion. Every luxury which the most fruitful of climates afforded was produced. The relatives of Jaya, however, amid this scene of general festivity seemed grave and dissatisfied. Not a countenance but theirs was saddened. Jeipal was at length blest. His wishes were consummated, and he felt no longer any apprehension of being torn from the partner of his earthly joys, now that she had become legally and morally his. The thought of her father’s captivity was the only interruption of his and the bride’s happiness, but he still resolved to leave nothing unattempted to restore Ray Ruttun Sein to his family. “Something must be devised,” said he to the anxious Jaya, “to rescue your parent from that odious thraldom to which he is likely to fall a victim if not speedily released, and, whatever the hazard, it has now become my duty to risk my life in securing his freedom.” A short time before the parties assembled to partake of the marriage-feast, Jaya had gone into a small apartment to deck her beautiful brows with some gems, in order that she might appear with the greatest possible lustre before her guests. This room led into a larger chamber, being separated only by a thin plaster partition. She had not been long occupied in arranging her jewels, when her uncle and his wife entered the outer apartment, and cautiously closing the door, Jaya overheard the following conversation: “Where is the newly-wedded?” inquired the uncle. “In the veranda with her happy Jeipal.” “Are you certain?” “A very short time has elapsed since I saw them together, and they were too happy to separate.” “What think you of this marriage?” “It is an ominous union. She must not live. The Mahomedan will never relinquish his desire to obtain her while she is alive, and our house shall not be degraded whilst we have the means of obviating it.” “Then both must perish, for Jeipal would visit the destroyer of his bride with terrible retribution.” “Ay, he’s a true Rajpoot; death with him is as commonplace a matter as eating his curry--’tis no great sacrifice for such a man to die.” “But how is their death to be accomplished?” “Thus. I will prepare two dishes for them especially, which shall be placed before each at the feast. I know what is most grateful to both, and will take care that they shall be provided with a mess which will secure us from future apprehension. In order to escape all chance of suspicion, I propose that the same dish precisely shall be placed before you, only yours will contain no poison. Elated as they now are they will not apprehend danger, and thus we are secure.”