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