The Child of the Dawn

  IX

  Now before I go on to tell the tale of what happened to us in the valleythere were two very curious things that I observed or began to observe.

  The first was that I could not really see into the girl's thought. Ibecame aware that though I could see into the thought of Amroth aseasily and directly as one can look into a clear sea-pool, with all itsrounded pebbles and its swaying fringes of seaweed, there was in thegirl's mind a centre of thought to which I was not admitted, a fortressof personality into which I could not force my way. More than that. Whenshe mistrusted or suspected me, there came a kind of cloud out from thecentral thought, as if a turbid stream were poured into the sea-pool,which obscured her thoughts from me, though when she came to know meand to trust me, as she did later, the cloud was gradually withdrawn;and I perceived that there must be a perfect sacrifice of will, anintention that the mind should lie open and unashamed before the thoughtof one's friend and companion, before the vision can be complete. WithAmroth I desired to conceal nothing, and he had no concealment from me.But with the girl it was different. There was something in her heartthat she hid from me, and by no effort could I penetrate it; and I sawthen that there is something at the centre of the soul which is our veryown, and into which God Himself cannot even look, unless we desire thatHe should look; and even if we desire that He should look into oursouls, if there is any timidity or shame or shrinking about us, wecannot open our souls to Him. I must speak about this later, when thegreat and wonderful day came to me, when I beheld God and was beheld byHim. But now, though when the girl trusted me I could see much of herthought, the inmost cell of it was still hidden from me.

  And then, too, I perceived another strange thing; that the landscape inwhich we walked was very plain to me, but that she did not see the samethings that I saw. With me, the landscape was such as I had loved mostin my last experience of life; it was a land to me like the Englishhill-country which I loved the best; little fields of pasture mostly,with hedgerow ashes and sycamores, and here and there a clear stream ofwater running by the wood-ends. There were buildings, too, lowwhite-walled farms, roughly slated, much-weathered, with evidences ofhomely life, byre and barn and granary, all about them. These slopingfields ran up into high moorlands and little grey crags, with the treesand thickets growing in the rock fronts. I could not think that peoplelived in these houses and practised agriculture, though I saw withsurprise and pleasure that there were animals about, horses and sheepgrazing, and dogs that frisked in and out. I had always believed andhoped that animals had their share in the inheritance of light, and nowI thought that this was a proof that it was indeed so, though I couldnot be sure of it, because I realised that it might be but the thoughtsof my mind taking shape, for, as I say, I was gradually aware that thegirl did not see what I saw. To her it was a different scene, of somesouthern country, because she seemed to see vineyards, and high-walledlanes, hill-crests crowded with houses and crowned with churches, suchas one sees at a distance in the Campagna, where the plain breaks intochestnut-clad hills. But this difference of sight did not make me feelthat the scene was in any degree unreal; it was the idea of thelandscape which we loved, its pretty associations and familiar features,and the mind did the rest, translating it all into a vision of sceneswhich had given us joy on earth, just as we do in dreams when we are inthe body, when the sleeping mind creates sights which give us pleasure,and yet we have no knowledge that we are ourselves creating them. So wewalked together, until I perceived that we were drawing near to the townwhich we had discerned.

  And now we became aware of people going to and fro. Sometimes theystopped and looked upon us with smiles, and even greetings; andsometimes they went past absorbed in thought.

  Houses appeared, both small wayside abodes and larger mansions withsheltered gardens. What it all meant I hardly knew; but just as we haveperfectly decided tastes on earth as to what sort of a house we like andwhy we like it, whether we prefer high, bright rooms, or rooms low andwith subdued light, so in that other country the mind creates what itdesires.

  Presently the houses grew thicker, and soon we were in a street--thetown to my eyes was like the little towns one sees in the Cotswoldcountry, of a beautiful golden stone, with deep plinths and cornices,with older and simpler buildings interspersed. My companion becamestrangely excited, glancing this way and that. And presently, as if wewere certainly expected, there came up to us a kindly and grave person,who welcomed us formally to the place, and said a few courteous wordsabout his pleasure that we should have chosen to visit it.

  I do not know how it was, but I did not wholly trust our host. His mindwas hidden from me; and indeed I began to have a sense, not of evil,indeed, or of oppression, but a feeling that it was not the placeappointed for me, but only where my business was to lie for a season. Agroup of people came up to us and welcomed my companion with greatcheerfulness, and she was soon absorbed in talk.