me the beauty I could not utter, that brought back to memory the
scene, the music, and the words. . . .

I looked round me; I looked up. As I did so, the little creature, with
one last burst of passionate happiness, flew away into the darkness.
And silence followed, so deep that I could hear the murmur of my
blood. . . an exquisite joy ran through me, making me quiver with
expectancy from head to foot. . . .

And it was then suddenly I became aware that the long-closed door at
last was open, the still chamber occupied. Some one who was pleased,
stretching a hand across the silence and the beauty, drew me within
that chamber of the heart, so that I passed behind the door that was
now a veil, and now a mist, and now a shining blaze of light. . .
passed into a remote and inner stillness where that direct communion
which is wordless can alone take place.

It was, I verily believe, a stillness of the spirit. At the centre of
the tempest, of the whirlpool, of the heart's commotion, there is
peace. I stood close against that source of our life which lies hid
with beauty very far away, and yet so near that it is enclosed in
every hope, in every yearning, and in every tear. For the whisper came
to me, beyond all telling sure.

Beauty had touched me, Wisdom come to birth; and Love, whispering
through the silence those marvellous words that sum up all spiritual
experience, proved it to me:

"Be still--and know. . . ."