very soon take up an entirely new life. I have no choice, though
if I had I would still do it."

There was silence and down a long arcade, without any touch of
her hand I heard the music, receding with exquisite modulations
to a very great distance, and between the pillared stems, I saw a
faint light.

"Do you wish to go?"

"Entirely. But I shall not forget you, Stephen. I will tell you
something. For me, since I came to India, the gate that shuts us
out at birth has opened. How shall I explain? Do you remember
Kipling's 'Finest Story in the World'?"

"Yes. Fiction!"

"Not fiction - true, whether he knew it or no. But for me the
door has opened wide. First, I remembered piecemeal, with wide
gaps, then more connectedly. Then, at the end of the first year,
I met one day at Cawnpore, an ascetic, an old man of great beauty
and wisdom, and he was able by his own knowledge to enlighten
mine. Not wholly - much has come since then. Has come, some of it
in ways you could not understand now, but much by direct sight
and hearing. Long, long ago I lived in Peshawar, and my story was
a sorrowful one. I will tell you a little before I go."

"I hold you to your promise. What is there I cannot believe when
you tell me? But does that life put you altogether away from me?
Was there no place for me in any of your memories that has drawn