Chapter XIX.
IT was a quiet peaceful evening. The long dewy pasture-lands lay bathed in a yellow light and the last smile of the sun flickered on the grass that covered the slopes and the distant meadows, so soft and pliable that even the gentlest breath of wind made dimples in it. The old, old peaks were there, and a heavenly radiance seemed to rest on their tops and on the wide plain beyond, revealing every object that came into view. The dark rocks, enveloped in the yellow shimmering light, seemed to be instinct with life; the huge spreading trees far away on the plains were spangled with gold; and the dead leaves quivered as if they too were alive. It was such a scene that met Narayen the saniyasi, as he lay in his grass-thatched hut on the ledge-like plateau in his old mountain retreat where Ramchander found him after Kamala’s marriage. The rush of the torrent was heard distinctly close by, but the saniyasi’s thoughts were far away, and his mind was grappling with a new and distinct problem of life. The nearness of death seemed to have deprived him of all consolation in his usual philosophical thoughts. The highly sensitive soul was about to shake off its mortal coil and face—what? Was there really a soul? What became of man after death? A few months before he could have answered these questions with self-satisfaction, but now, as the gates of death opened, a dread fear overwhelmed him. Had he after all been deceived? Nirvana—the absorption of the individual into the Deity—this was the spiritual goal he had all along been aspiring to, but what if the end should prove to be the complete loss of consciousness and the annihilation of thought? In that case what would become of all his abstract meditations, all his fastings and prayers, his suppression of passions and all promptings of self? In what way was one like Arunayadaya superior to the unthinking crowd? But even Arunayadaya, who possessed the vision of the seer and the faculty, under great mental excitement, of knowing what was happening to those he loved, even he had not explained to him the mystery of death. He had been rewarded no doubt to a certain extent for all his meditations and abstractions, for he had attained a solemn placid happiness, a calm unknown to many. The world had been nothing to him. Riches, name, position had all lost their power over him. Sorrow had been overcome and cares had been left behind. But even Arunayadaya had often talked doubtingly of the hereafter. Surely thought did not become extinct for ever? Death must after all be a long sleep during which thought is only suspended. And then what was to be the nature of the future state? Narayen shuddered at the bare thought of annihilation. He was evidently groping for more light, for a more definite revelation of the spiritual and the supernatural, but his was a noble soul, and notwithstanding his imperfect knowledge he had tried to lead a noble life. After a time he felt calm and soothed. It appeared as if the ea