of
what we call matter are really but aggregates of spiritual units, and
that life itself is a curtain hiding reality as the vast veil of
day conceals from our sight the countless orbs of space. So that the
purified mind even while prisoned in the body, may enter into union with
the Real and, according to attainment, see it as it is.

She was an interpreter because she believed this truth profoundly. She
saw the spiritual essence beneath the lovely illusion of matter, and the
air about her was radiant with the motion of strange forces for which
the dull world has many names aiming indeed at the truth, but falling--O
how far short of her calm perception! She was indeed of a Household
higher than the Household of Faith. She had received enlightenment. She
beheld with open eyes.

Next day our camp was struck and we turned our faces again to Srinagar
and to the day of parting. I set down but one strange incident of our
journey, of which I did not speak even to her.

We were camping at Bijbehara, awaiting our house boat, and the site was
by the Maharaja's lodge above the little town. It was midnight and I was
sleepless--the shadow of the near future was upon me. I wandered down to
the lovely old wooded bridge across the Jhelum, where the strong young
trees grow up from the piles. Beyond it the moon was shining on the
ancient Hindu remains close to the new temple, and as I stood on the
bridge I could see the figure of a man in deepest meditation by the
ruins. He was no European. I saw the straight dignified folds of the
robes. But it was not surprising he should be there and I should have
thought no more of it, had I not heard at that instant from the further
side of the river the music of the Flute. I cannot hope to describe
that music to any who have not heard it. Suffice it to say that where
it calls he who hears must follow whether in the body or the spirit. Nor
can I now tell in which I followed. One day it will call me across the
River of Death, and I shall ford it or sink in the immeasurable depths
and either will be well.

But immediately I was at the other side of the river, standing by the
stone Bull of Shiva where he kneels before the Symbol, and looking
steadfastly upon me a few paces away was a man in the dress of a
Buddhist monk. He wore the yellow robe that leaves one shoulder bare;
his head was bare also and he held in one hand a small bowl like a
stemless chalice. I knew I was seeing a very strange inexpl