love, not power, is the last word
of Creation. Happily for him, its outward form and inward essence had
been his daily bread ever since he had first consciously looked upon his
mother's face, consciously delighted in his father's pictures. They
lived it, those two: and the life lived transcends argument.

At this uplifted moment--whatever might come later--he blessed them for
his double heritage; for the perfect accord between them that inspired
his hope of ultimate harmony between England and India, in spite of
barriers and complexities and fomenters of discord; a harmony that could
never arrive by veiled condescension out of servile imitation. Intimacy
with Dyan and his mother had made that quite clear. Each must honestly
will to understand the other; each holding fast the essence of
individuality, while respecting in the other precisely those baffling
qualities that strengthen their union and make it vital to the welfare
of both. Instinctively he pictured them as man and woman; and on general
lines the analogy seemed to hold good. He had yet to discover that
analogies are often deceptive things; peculiarly so, in this case,
since India is many, not one. Yet there lurked a germ of truth in his
seedling idea: and he was at the age when ideas and tremendous impulses
stir in the blood like sap in spring-time; an age to be a reformer, a
fanatic or a sensualist.

Too often, alas, before the years bring power of adjustment, the live
spark of enthusiasm is extinct....

To-night it burned in Roy with a steady flame. If only he could enthuse
his father----!

He supposed he would go in any case: but he lacked the rebel instinct of
modern youth. He wanted to share, to impart his hidden treasure; not to
argue the bloom off it. And his father seemed tacitly to discourage
rhapsodies over Indian literature and art. You couldn't say he was not
keen: only the least little bit unresponsive to outbursts of keenness in
his son; so that Roy never felt quite at ease on the subject. If only he
could walk into the room now, while Roy's brain was seething with it
all, high on the upward curve of a wave....

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: Ancient Hindu Scriptures.]

CHAPTER IV.

"You could humble at your feet the proudest heads in the world. But
it is your loved ones ... whom you choose to worship. Therefore I
worship you."
--RABINDRANATH TAGORE.

Roy, after due consideration,