XLIPROCESSIONAL BEFORE THE VEIL
ATMOSPHERIC changes were varied and rapid in the vicinity of the Himalaya “Five Peaks of Eternal Snow.” Clear days were by no means constant around Darjeeling. There were periods when “the view towards the chancel,” as Adele called it, was obstructed; days when the clouds hung low, even resting upon the forests in the ravines beneath. Yet the forms of the trees were not always hid, they appeared as darker lines of delicate tracery against the lighter background.
At such times Adele idealized with much refinement of vision. “Those trees are the rood-screen; I can see through into the chancel when it is clear; but to-day the chancel is misty, the clouds hang like a veil. It is astonishing how much is hidden by fog and mist in nature; that veil hides a great deal.”
The Doctor also was very appreciative of such atmospheric changes, since they often resulted in superb effects, cloud scenery, sunbursts never to be forgotten for their magnificence.
It thus happened while they were all assembled on a Saturday evening discussing projects for the morrow, that Adele and the Doctor each felt the impulse to rise early on the same morning to watch some of the atmospheric changes which made beautiful the dawn.
The Doctor remembered having seen remarkable effects at Banff in the Rockies; and Adele recalled having met Tartarin de Tarascon on the Righi pretty early in the morning;no doubt there might be some greater things than these to be found among the Himalayas. Why it was, that only these two of the party should have been so moved, and upon the same particular morning, and without saying anything about it previously, the Doctor could never quite understand; unless on the general principle that if people will follow their natural inclinations to see the best in life they need not be surprised to find others doing the same thing at the same time. When they discussed it subsequently, Adele accounted for it in her own way.
“I so often dislike to make the necessary effort. That sort of effort is very trying, when to see something extra which I know can be seen I must force myself. Getting up early, for instance; I don’t like getting up early as a general thing, but I just forced myself to do so on that morning.”
Thus it happened to be the first day of the week very early in the morning that she and the Doctor found themselves abroad when it was yet somewhat dark. Adele was the first to appear upon the scene; she was standing in the road opposite Peek-o’-Tip when the Doctor came out of the bungalow. Neither one was in the mood for conversation, and the morning air was fresh. After the first agreeable surprise Adele put her arm in his and they moved off together briskly. She was in sympathy with him also, as with Paul, but the mutual feeling manifested itself very differently. The cloud hung low.
“The sun will drink up the mist,” remarked the Doctor in peasant parlance.
“I hope so, but I never can tell. Let us go to Observatory Hill; that’s the best place.” She seemed to take it as a matter of course that they each had the same object in view.
“Your Cathedral is gloomy,” said the Doctor, looking around.
“One can’t see the chancel.”
“No.”
“It’s the veil,” said Adele, thoughtful.
“What did you say?”
“The cloud-curtains, the veil of the Temple is down.”
After walking some distance they entered a grove; of course it became still darker because they entered the grove. What they did not notice was that the clouds, instead of dispersing, were becoming more dense. They only remembered that the path led upwards towards higher ground in the open.
At one point on the way Adele stopped, and looked into a dark glen where she said she heard running water. The Doctor pushed aside bushes that stood in the way, and they were sprinkled by the moisture that had condensed on the bushes. If there had been more light they would have seen the diamond drops upon the scarlet blossoms; but these were hidden in the shadows at the mouth of the glen.
Before them was an exquisite cascade falling over rocks; coming down the mountain it was tossed upon either side of a heavy stone which had been rolled there in past ages by natural forces, and now stood with white foam enveloping its rugged sides.
This unexpected gem of natural scenery compelled them to halt and admire.
“What a surprise, how beautiful!” exclaimed Adele.
“Yes, even in this dull light.”
“The water looks like delicate cambric.”
“Why, so it does—draped round the stone; the rocks are sombre and solemn. You know it is said that some animals, wild and savage, like to find such places as this to nestle down and take their last long sleep.”
“I think I know why, too,” said Adele.
“Ah!”
“It is the music of the waterfall perhaps, and the movement too. The water is so much alive, it’s living water.”
“All life seeks life,” said the Doctor. “Some sort of companionship; even a hermit likes the life in his glen. It’s not uncheerful here, after all, is it—even if it seems gloomy?”
“No, listen; the waterfall is singing. I could catch the rhythm, and perhaps a cadence, in a short time if I were to try; it seems to say something.”
“What does it say, to you?”
“Oh, ’tis ‘the water of life repeating,’” said Adele, quoting one of her favorite lines. “I cannot tell you exactly what it says in words, but the music in it is hopeful; I love to listen to it.”
“So do I,” said the Doctor. “Would you like a drink?”
“Indeed, I would; just for remembrance, to say we have been here together. Let us take a drink in remembrance.”
They both drank from a cup made of leaves—both of the same cup—“the water of life,” as Adele called it; and as they drank a bird flew down from its nest, perched itself on a rock near the cascade above them, and drank also; a little bird with a red breast. They did not see the bird, emblem of suffering unto death for others, and only took a drop or two themselves, for verily the realities of life made the glen damp and cold, yet the thought symbolized by the bird was ever with them and the moment precious.
“I should like to drink that water always,” said Adele.
“Always is a long time.”
“Well, I did not mean exactly that—until——”
The Doctor waited.
“Well, if I must tell you, until the resurrection.”
“I trust we may,” said he solemnly.
They understood each other perfectly, and after a pause, while the robin sang a morning hymn, they continued their walk.
Drops of rain began to fall upon the tree-tops. Adele and the Doctor caught the sound.
“Only a little condensation,” said he, “a draught of cooler air has passed over. We will be out of it in a few minutes.”
Adele felt chilly, but would not say so. She drew her hooded-wrap about her, and felt quite safe with the Doctor.
“A Lepcha shanty is just beyond here,” said he, “if it comes to the worst we can find shelter.”
“And plenty of dirt,” thought Adele. “No doubt, lots of insects, especially on a damp day.”
The patter of rain increased, a very wet drop fell upon her cheek, several big drops struck the Doctor full in the face. Having no umbrellas they hurried along instinctively, then broke into a trot—then ran to escape as best they could. When crossing an open space between the woods and the hut the rain fell in torrents.
“You will be drenched through and through,” said the Doctor.
“I don’t mind it at all. It’s only on the outside, anyhow, and I’m warmly clad; still it’s a little chilly—let’s hurry,” and off she started, the Doctor after her, on a bee-line for the shelter. Panting, they rushed up to the shanty.
The hut was almost full—full of Lepchas—men, women and children, unkempt specimens of humanity whose clothes when once on seemed seldom to be taken off until they fell off. The Lepchas had also taken refuge from the storm, and were all wet and bedraggled, like themselves.
“A sweet party, truly!” thought the Doctor, and so it was. Poor natives lying round like drowned rats—the Americans in exterior appeared not much better; all but Adele’s cheeks which glowed after the exercise of running.
She pulled back her hood, and a ripple of smiles played over her countenance—the Lepchas laughed too. Then as if they were all friends together, she asked: “Can you take us in—take us in?” and began shaking the rain from her garments at the outer stone. It must have been her cheerful manner that induced one of the women to make room next herself on a seat; the Lepcha men were more stolid, but all began to move when the strangers entered.
The Doctor soon detected a goat in the shanty—there was no doubt about it—and concluded to escape as soon as possible.But there they were—caught; caught as in a net of circumstances. Little did he or Adele know to what the circumstances would lead, but he said afterwards that it reminded him of St. Paul’s experience at Joppa with a sheet-net full of common things, four-footed beasts and fowls, unclean things in general; which later on proved not so unclean as he had at first thought; only in this case Adele and he were inside the net with the rest.
Some of the Lepchas knew a few words of English, but the more ancient universal language of signs and grunts proved to be more useful. Adele patted a chicken, and a Lepcha damsel patted the young goat, a kid. Both chicken and kid seemed of special value to the natives. Adele could not conjecture the reason. When the rain ceased and they all stepped outside she was further enlightened. Neither the wet Lepchas nor the bedraggled Christians desired to remain in that stuffy hut, both hurried to seek the fresh air and to reach the open; the whole crowd in fact, kid and chicken included. And out they scrambled, pell-mell, with a unanimity of action as natural as it was prompt. The natives formed a little group in the open, looking around to satisfy themselves that the clouds were dispersing. Through rifts in the mist near them came the clearer morning light, to all, from whatever part of the earth they had come, a foretaste of the brightest of days.
The natives gathered together, a little company, their leader carrying the kid, a boy following with the fowl, others straggling by twos and threes, yet now all of sober countenance.
Adele and the Doctor looked after them; there was evidently some purpose in the manner of those natives as they proceeded up the hill towards its crest, to the very place of observation they themselves had selected for the best view, and where they were going when they had been arrested by the shower. More than mere curiosity, a fellow-feeling, now suggested that they all go together; so, regardless of their wet and soiled garments, Adele and the Doctor soon found themselves willinglytramping up that hill along with the ragged natives. The leader looked askance at first, but when he noticed Adele beside one of his women, and the Doctor with his men, he made the best of it, accepted the situation, and kept ahead carrying the kid.
The path wound upwards, the ascent growing more steep. None could see far ahead when the processional commenced. Not until their march was well under way, not until the very last stage of the climb, not until near approach to the place they sought, not in fact until their own forms arose above the near foreground, did they witness the Glory in nature which was, and is, and is to be.
And as they surmounted the crest of the hill, so did the Celestial scenery beyond become visible to their mortal eyes, rising before them a sublime transformation scene—an ascension of truth beautiful in nature.
To Adele and the Doctor, a veritable transfiguration of the earth as they might imagine it glorified on the morning of a Resurrection.
The mighty summits, the eternal peaks, on this first day of the week, shone forth in the purer atmosphere of greater altitude, magnificent in proportions as a work in Creation, impressive in their glorious grandeur, refulgent as with the sacred glow of a physical rebirth.
The clouds were moving aside, as a curtain is withdrawn; and from the depths below, the valley and ravine, from forest and waterfall, rose the mist. That which covers, screens, or conceals in nature, like the fog, was passing away; that which is more permanent, ascending heavenward to form clouds; ascending as incense ascends; incense symbolic from ages past of the prayers of humanity.
The Holy of Holies of the Himalaya Cathedral was open before them.
The Veil of the Temple had been rent in twain.
As Incense Ascends—Symbolic, from Ages Past, of the Prayers of Humanity.The Kunchingunga Snowy Range. Elevation, 28,156 feet.Scene from Observatory Hill, Darjeeling.
As Incense Ascends—Symbolic, from Ages Past, of the Prayers of Humanity.The Kunchingunga Snowy Range. Elevation, 28,156 feet.Scene from Observatory Hill, Darjeeling.