the ninth vibration-第6章

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〃It　means　that　for　some　people　the　material　universe　…　the　things　we　see　with　our　eyes　…　is　only　a　mirage；　or　say；　a　symbol；　which　either　hides　or　shadows　forth　the　eternal　truth。　And　in　that　sense　they　see　things　as　they　really　are；　not　as　they　seem　to　the　rest　of　us。　And　whether　this　is　the　statement　of　a　truth　or　the　wildest　of　dreams；　I　cannot　tell。〃

She　did　not　answer　for　a　moment；　then　said；

〃Are　there　people　who　believe　this　…　know　it？〃

〃Certainly。　There　are　people　who　believe　that　thought　is　the　only　real　thing　…　that　the　whole　universe　is　thought　made　visible。　That　we　create　with　our　thoughts　the　very　body　by　which　we　shall　re…act　on　the　universe　in　lives　to　be。

〃Do　you　believe　it？〃

〃I　don't　know。　Do　you？〃

She　paused；　looked　at　me；　and　then　went　on：

〃You　see；　I　don't　think　things　out。　I　only　feel。　But　this　cannot　interest　you。〃

I　felt　she　was　eluding　the　question。　She　began　to　interest　me　more　than　any　one　I　had　ever　known。　She　had　extraordinary　power　of　a　sort。　Once；　in　the　woods；　where　I　was　reading　in　so　deep　a　shade　that　she　never　saw　me；　I　had　an　amazing　vision　of　her。　She　stood　in　a　glade　with　the　sunlight　and　shade　about　her；　she　had　no　hat　and　a　sunbeam　turned　her　hair　to　pale　bronze。　A　small　bright　April　shower　was　falling　through　the　sun；　and　she　stood　in　pure　light　that　reflected　itself　in　every　leaf　and　grass…blade。　But　it　was　nothing　of　all　this　that　arrested　me；　beautiful　as　it　was。　She　stood　as　though　life　were　for　the　moment　suspended；…　then；　very　softly；　she　made　a　low　musical　sound；　infinitely　wooing；　from　scarcely　parted　lips；　and　instantly　I　saw　a　bird　of　azure　plumage　flutter　down　and　settle　on　her　shoulder；　pluming　himself　there　in　happy　security。　Again　she　called　softly　and　another　followed　the　first。　Two　flew　to　her　feet；　two　more　to　her　breast　and　hand。　They　caressed　her；　clung　to　her；　drew　some　joyous　influence　from　her　presence。　She　stood　in　the　glittering　rain　like　Spring　with　her　birds　about　her　…　a　wonderful　sight。　Then；　raising　one　hand　gently　with　the　fingers　thrown　back　she　uttered　a　different　note；　perfectly　sweet　and　intimate；　and　the　branches　parted　and　a　young　deer　with　full　bright　eyes　fixed　on　her　advanced　and　pushed　a　soft　muzzle　into　her　hand。

In　my　astonishment　I　moved；　however　slightly；　and　the　picture　broke　up。　The　deer　sprang　back　into　the　trees；　the　birds　fluttered　up　in　a　hurry　of　feathers；　and　she　turned　calm　eyes　upon　me；　as　unstartled　as　if　she　had　known　all　the　time　that　I　was　there。

〃You　should　not　have　breathed；〃　she　said　smiling。　〃They　must　have　utter　quiet。〃

I　rose　up　and　joined　her。

〃It　is　a　marvel。　I　can　scarcely　believe　my　eyes。　How　do　you　do　it？〃

〃My　father　taught　me。　They　come。　How　can　I　tell？〃

She　turned　away　and　left　me。　I　thought　long　over　this　episode。　I　recalled　words　heard　in　the　place　of　my　studies　…　words　I　had　dismissed　without　any　care　at　the　moment。　〃To　those　who　see；　nothing　is　alien。　They　move　in　the　same　vibration　with　all　that　has　life；　be　it　in　bird　or　flower。　And　in　the　Uttermost　also；　for　all　things　are　One。　For　such　there　is　no　death。〃

That　was　beyond　me　still；　but　I　watched　her　with　profound　interest。　She　recalled　also　words　I　had　half　forgotten…

　　〃There　was　nought　above　me　and　nought　below；　　　　My　childhood　had　not　learnt　to　know；　　　　For　what　are　the　voices　of　birds；　　　　Aye；　and　of　beasts；　but　words；　our　words；　…　　　　Only　so　much　more　sweet。〃

That　might　have　been　written　of　her。　And　more。

She　had　found　one　day　in　the　woods　a　flower　of　a　sort　I　had　once　seen　in　the　warm　damp　forests　below　Darjiling　…　ivory　white　and　shaped　like　a　dove　in　flight。　She　wore　it　that　evening　on　her　bosom。　A　week　later　she　wore　what　I　took　to　be　another。

〃You　have　had　luck；〃　I　said；　〃I　never　heard　of　such　a　thing　being　seen　so　high　up；　and　you　have　found　it　twice。〃

〃No；　it　is　the　same。〃

〃The　same？　Impossible。　You　found　it　more　than　a　week　ago。〃　〃I　know。　It　is　ten　days。　Flowers　don't　die　when　one　understands　them　…　not　as　most　people　think。〃

Her　mother　looked　up　and　said　fretfully：

〃Since　she　was　a　child　Brynhild　has　had　that　odd　idea。　That　flower　is　dead　and　withered。　Throw　it　away；　child。　It　looks　hideous。〃

Was　it　glamour？　What　was　it？　I　saw　the　flower　dewy　fresh　in　her　bosom　She　smiled　and　turned　away。

It　was　that　very　evening　she　left　the　veranda　where　we　were　sitting　in　the　subdued　light　of　a　little　lamp　and　passed　beyond　where　the　ray　cut　the　darkness。　She　went　down　the　perspective　of　trees　to　the　edge　of　he　clearing　and　I　rose　to　follow　for　it　seemed　absolutely　unsafe　that　she　should　be　on　the　verge　of　the　panther…haunted　woods　alone。　Mrs。　Ingmar　turned　a　page　of　her　book　serenely；

〃She　will　not　like　it　if　you　go。　I　cannot　imagine　that　she　should　come　to　harm。　She　always　goes　her　own　way　…　light　or　dark。〃

I　returned　to　my　seat　and　watched　steadfastly。　At　first　I　could　see　nothing　but　as　my　sight　adjusted　itself　I　saw　her　a　long　way　down　the　clearing　that　opened　the　snows；　and　quite　certainly　also　I　saw　something　like　a　huge　dog　detach　itself　from　the　woods　and　bound　to　her　feet。　It　mingled　with　her　dark　dress　and　I　lost　it。　Mrs。　Ingmar　said；　seeing　my　anxiety　but　nothing　else；　〃Her　father　was　just　the　same；　…　he　had　no　fear　of　anything　that　lives。　No　doubt　some　people　have　that　power。　I　have　never　seen　her　attract　birds　and　beasts　as　he　certainly　did；　but　she　is　quite　as　fond　of　them。〃

I　could　not　understand　her　blindness　…　what　I　myself　had　seen　raised　questions　I　found　unanswerable；　and　her　mother　saw　nothing！　Which　of　us　was　right？　presently　she　came　back　slowly　and　I　ventured　no　word。

A　woodland　sorcery；　innocent　as　the　dawn；　hovered　about　her。　What　was　it？　Did　the　mere　love　of　these　creatures　make　a　bond　between　her　soul　and　theirs；　or　was　the　ancient　dream　true　and　could　she　at　times　move　in　the　same　vibration？　I　thought　of　her　as　a　wood…spirit　sometimes；　an　expression　herself　of　some　passion　of　beauty　in　Nature；　a　thought　of　snows　and　starry　nights　and　flowing　rivers　made　visible　in　flesh。　It　is　surely　when　seized　with　the　urge　of　some　primeval　yearning　which　in　man　is　merely　sexual　that　Nature　conceives　her　fair　forms　and　manifests　them；　for　there　is　a　correspondence　that　runs　through　all　creation。

Here　I　ask　myself　…　Did　I　love　her？　In　a　sense；　yes；　deeply；　but　not　in　the　common　reading　of　the　phrase。　I　have　trembled　with　delight　before　the　wild　and　terrible　splendour　of　the　Himalayan　heights…；　low　golden　moons　have　steeped　my　soul　longing；　but　I　did　not　think　of　these　things　as　mine　in　any　narrow　sense；　nor　so　desire　them。　They　were　Angels　of　the　Evangel　of　beauty。　So　too　was　she。　She　had　none　of　the　〃silken　nets　and　traps　of　adamant；〃　she　was　no　sister　of　the　〃girls　of　mild　silver　or　of　furious　gold〃；　…　but　fair；　strong；　and　her　own；　a　dweller　in　the　House　of　Quiet。　I　did　not　covet　her。　I　loved　her。

Days　passed。　There　came　a　night　when　the　winds　were　loosed　…　no　moon；　the　stars　flickering　like　blown　tapers　through　driven　clouds；　the　trees　swaying　and　lamenting。

〃There　will　be　rain　tomorrow。〃　Mrs。　Ingmar　said；　as　we　parted　for　the　night。　I　closed　my　door。　Some　great　cat　of　the　woods　was　crying　harshly　outside　my　window；　the　sound　receding　towards　the　bridle　way。　I　slept　in　a　dream　of　tossing　seas　and　ships　labouring　among　them。

With　the　sense　of　a　summons　I　waked　…　I　cannot　tell　when。　Unmistakable；　as　if　I　were　called　by　name。　I　rose　and　dressed；　and　heard　distinctly　bare　feet　passing　my　door。　I　opened　it　noiselessly　and　looked　out　into　the　little　passage　way　that　made　for　the　entry；　and　saw　nothing　but　pools　of　darkness　and　a　dim　light　from　the　square　of　the　window　at　the　end。　But　the　wind　had　swept　the　sky　clear　with　its　flying　bosom　and　was　sleeping　now　in　its　high　places　and　the　air　was　filled　with　a　mild　moony　radiance　and　a　great　stillness。

Now　let　me　speak　with　restraint　and　exactness。　I　was　not　afraid　but　felt　as　I　imagine　a　dog　feels　in　the　presence　of　his　master；　conscious　of　a　purpose；　a　will　entirely　above　his　own　and　incomprehensible；　yet　to　be　obeyed　without　question。　I　followed　my　reading　of　the　command；　bewildered　but　docile；　and　understanding　nothing　but　that　I　was　called。

The　lights　were　out。　The　house　dead　silent；　the　familiar　vera