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One day； one thought； of her absence had taught me what she was to me； and if humility and patient endeavor could raise me to her feet； I was resolved that I would spend my life in labor and think it well spent。
My servant dismounted and led his horse； asking from every one where the 〃Kedarnath〃 could be found； and eager black eyes sparkled and two little bronze images detached themselves from the crowd of boys； and ran； fleet as fauns； before us。
Above the last bridge the Jhelum broadens out into a stately river； controlled at one side by the banked walk known as the Bund； with the Club House upon it and the line of houseboats beneath。 Here the visitors flutter up and down and exchange the gossip； the bridge appointments； the little dinners that sit so incongruously on the pure Orient that is Kashmir。
She would not be here。 My heart told me that； and sure enough the boys were leading across the bridge and by a quiet shady way to one of the many backwaters that the great river makes in the enchanting city。 There is one waterway stretching on afar to the Dal Lake。 It looks like a river … it is the very haunt of peace。 Under those mighty chenar； or plane trees； that are the glory of Kashmir； clouding the water with deep green shadows； the sun can scarcely pierce； save in a dipping sparkle here and there to intensify the green gloom。 The murmur of the city； the chatter of the club； are hundreds of miles away。 We rode downward under the towering trees； and dismounting； saw a little houseboat tethered to the bank。 It was not of the richer sort that haunts the Bund； where the native servants follow in a separate boat； and even the electric light is turned on as part of the luxury。 This was a long low craft； very broad； thatched like a country cottage afloat。 In the forepart lived the native owner； and his family； their crew； our cooks and servants； for they played many parts in our service。 And in the afterpart； room for a life； a dream； the joy or curse & many days to be。
But then； I saw only one thing … Vanna sat under the trees； reading； or looking at the cool dim watery vista； with a single boat； loaded to the river's edge with melons and scarlet tomatoes； punting lazily down to Srinagar in the sleepy afternoon。
She was dressed in white with a shady hat； and her delicate dark face seemed to glow in the shadow like the heart of a pale rose。 For the first time I knew she was beautiful。 Beauty shone in her like the flame in an alabaster lamp； serene； diffused in the very air about her； so that to me she moved in a mild radiance。 She rose to meet me with both hands outstretched … the kindest； most cordial welcome。 Not an eyelash flickered； not a trace of self… consciousness。 If I could have seen her flush or tremble … but no … her eyes were clear and calm as a forest pool。 So I remembered her。 So I saw her once more。
I tried； with a hopeless pretence； to follow her example and hide what I felt； where she had nothing to hide。
〃What a place you have found。 Why； it's like the deep heart of a wood！〃
〃Yes； I saw it once when I was here with the Meryons。 But we lay at the Bund then … just under the Club。 This is better。 Did you like the ride up？〃
I threw myself on the grass beside her with a feeling of perfect rest。
〃It was like a new heaven and a new earth。 What a country！〃
The very spirit of Quiet seemed to be drowsing in those branches towering up into the blue； dipping their green fingers into the crystal of the water。 What a heaven！
〃Now you shall have your tea and then I will show you your rooms；〃 she said； smiling at my delight。 〃We shall stay here a few days more that you may see Srinagar； and then they tow us up into the Dal Lake opposite the Gardens of the Mogul Emperors。 And if you think this beautiful what will you say then？〃
I shut my eyes and see still that first meal of my new life。 The little table that Pir Baksh； breathing full East in his jade…green turban； set before her； with its cloth worked in a pattern of the chenar leaves that are the symbol of Kashmir； the brown cakes made by Ahmad Khan in a miraculous kitchen of his own invention … a few holes burrowed in the river bank； a smoldering fire beneath them； and a width of canvas for a roof。 But it served； and no more need be asked of luxury。 And Vanna； making it mysteriously the first home I ever had known； the central joy of it all。 Oh； wonderful days of life that breathe the spirit of immortality and pass so quickly … surely they must be treasured somewhere in Eternity that we may look upon their beloved light once more。
〃Now you must see the boat。 The Kedarnath is not a Dreadnought； but she is broad and very comfortable。 And we have many chaperons。 They all live in the bows； and exist simply to protect the Sahiblog from all discomfort； and very well they do it。 That is Ahmad Khan by the kitchen。 He cooks for us。 Salama owns the boat； and steers her and engages the men to tow us when we move。 And when I arrived he aired a little English and said piously； The Lord help me to give you no trouble； and the Lord help you！〃 That is his wife sitting on the bank。 She speaks little but Kashmiri； but I know a little of that。 Look at the hundred rat…tail plaits of her hair； lengthened with wool； and see her silver and turquoise jewelry。 She wears much of the family fortune and is quite a walking bank。 Salama； Ahmad Khan and I talk by the hour。 Ahmad comes from Fyzabad。 Look at Salama's boy … I call him the Orange Imp。 Did you ever see anything so beautiful？〃
I looked in sheer delight； and grasped my camera。 Sitting near us was a lovely little Kashmiri boy of about eight； in a faded orange coat； and a turban exactly like his father's。 His curled black eyelashes were so long that they made a soft gloom over the upper part of the little golden face。 The perfect bow of the scarlet lips； the long eyes； the shy smile； suggested an Indian Eros。 He sat dipping his feet in the water with little pigeon…like cries of content。
〃He paddles at the bow of our little shikara boat with a paddle exactly like a water…lily leaf。 Do you like our friends？ I love them already； and know all their affairs。 And now for the boat。〃
〃One moment … If we are friends on a great adventure； I must call you Vanna； and you me Stephen。〃
〃Yes； I suppose that is part of it；〃 she said； smiling。 〃Come； Stephen。〃
It was like music； but a cold music that chilled me。 She should have hesitated； should have flushed … it was I who trembled。 So I followed her across the broad plank into our new home。
〃This is our sitting…room。 Look； how charming！〃
It was better than charming； it was home indeed。 Windows at each side opening down almost to the water； a little table for meals that lived mostly on the bank； with a grey pot of iris in the middle。 Another table for writing； photography； and all the little pursuits of travel。 A bookshelf with some well … worn friends。 Two long cushioned chairs。 Two for meals； and a Bokhara rug； soft and pleasant for the feet。 The interior was plain unpainted wood； but set so that the grain showed like satin in the rippling lights from the water。
That is the inventory of the place I have loved best in the world； but what eloquence can