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h should have had its will of her。 I had yet to learn that this would never be … that she had found the open door of escape。
We three spent much time together in the days that followed。 I never tired of their company and I think they did not tire of mine； for my wanderings through the world and my studies in the ancient Indian literatures and faiths with the Pandit Devaswami were of interest to them both though in entirely different ways。 Mrs。 Ingmar was a woman who centred all her interests in books and chiefly in the scientific forms of occult research。 She was no believer in anything outside the range of what she called human experience。 The evidences had convinced her of nothing but a force as yet unclassified in the scientific categories and all her interest lay in the undeveloped powers of brain which might be discovered in the course of ignorant and credulous experiment。 We met therefore on the common ground of rejection of the so…called occultism of the day； though I knew even then； and how infinitely better now； that her constructions were wholly misleading。
Nearly all day she would lie in her chair under the deodars by the delicate splash and ripple of the stream。 Living imprisoned in the crystal sphere of the intellect she saw the world outside； painted in few but distinct colours； small； comprehensible； moving on a logical orbit。 I never knew her posed for an explanation。 She had the contented atheism of a certain type of French mind and found as much ease in it as another kind of sweet woman does in her rosary and confessional。
〃I cannot interest Brynhild；〃 she said； when I knew her better。 〃She has no affinity with science。 She is simply a nature worshipper； and in such places as this she seems to draw life from the inanimate life about her。 I have sometimes wondered whether she might not be developed into a kind of bridge between the articulate and the inarticulate； so well does she understand trees and flowers。 Her father was like that … he had all sorts of strange power with animals and plants； and thought he had more than he had。 He could never realize that the energy of nature is merely mechanical。〃
〃You think all energy is mechanical？〃
〃Certainly。 We shall lay our finger on the mainspring one day and the mystery will disappear。 But as for Brynhild … I gave her the best education possible and yet she has never understood the conception of a universe moving on mathematical laws to which we must submit in body and mind。 She has the oddest ideas。 I would not willingly say of a child of mine that she is a mystic； and yet …〃
She shook her head compassionately。 But I scarcely heard。 My eyes were fixed on Brynhild； who stood apart； looking steadily out over the snows。 It was a glorious sunset； the west vibrating with gorgeous colour spilt over in torrents that flooded the sky； Terrible splendours … hues for which we have no thought … no name。 I had not thought of it as music until I saw her face but she listened as well as saw； and her expression changed as it changes when the pomp of a great orchestra breaks upon the silence。 It flashed to the chords of blood…red and gold that was burning fire。 It softened through the fugue of woven crimson gold and flame； to the melancholy minor of ashes…of…roses and paling green； and so through all the dying glories that faded slowly to a tranquil grey and left the world to the silver melody of one sole star that dawned above the ineffable heights of the snows。 Then she listened as a child does to a bird； entranced； with a smile like a butterfly on her parted lips。 I never saw such a power of quiet。
She and I were walking next day among the forest ways； the pine…scented sunshine dappling the dropped frondage。 We had been speaking of her mother。 〃It is such a misfortune for her；〃 she said thoughtfully； 〃that I am not clever。 She should have had a daughter who could have shared her thoughts。 She analyses everything； reasons about everything； and that is quite out of my reach。〃
She moved beside me with her wonderful light step … the poise and balance of a nymph in the Parthenon frieze。
〃How do you see things？〃
〃See？ That is the right word。 I see things … I never reason about them。 They are。 For her they move like figures in a sum。 For me every one of them is a window through which one may look to what is beyond。〃
〃To where？〃
〃To what they really are … not what they seem。〃
I looked at her with interest。
〃Did you ever hear of the double vision？〃
For this is a subject on which the spiritually learned men of India； like the great mystics of all the faiths； have much to say。 I had listened with bewilderment and doubt to the expositions of my Pandit on this very head。 Her simple words seemed for a moment the echo of his deep and searching thought。 Yet it surely could not be。 Impossible。
〃Never。 What does it mean？〃 She raised clear unveiled eyes。 〃You must forgive me for being so stupid； but it is my mother who is at home with all these scientific phrases。 I know none of them。〃
〃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