Ramabai and her brother knelt by the shore. They had been true worshippers of the gods, and they felt that if they were to be judged by the best of the old books of India they were good. It is true that their caste-fellows had disowned them, but, though many of their old beliefs about idols and shrines still lingered with them, they did not believe that a good god could be angry at their father’s treatment of his daughters. So they worshipped eagerly, and looked to see if the mountains were moving to the shore. But the water lapped against the banks as calmly as before, and not an extra ripple could be seen. They slept that night near the lake, and very early in the morning, before the priests were on the watch, the boy made up his mind that if the mountains would not come to him he would go to the mountains! Ramabai watched him breathlessly, for had he not the anger of the spirits to dread, as well as the hungry crocodiles? He swam out to the nearest mountain, swam right round it, and back to the shore. No crocodile had touched him, and the look in his eyes as he returned to Ramabai was a look of anger, not of fear. He had seen, when he reached it, that the mountain was only a sham. It was cleverly built of mud and earth, on a floating raft. Trees and creepers were stuck into the clay as if they grew there. Behind, out of sight of land, there was a little boat. It was all clear to him now. Some signal must pass from the priests on shore to the priest in the boat, and if the pilgrim gave enough of money to the priest on shore, the boatman pushed the floating mountain towards the land; so it was not virtue but money that moved the spirit of the mountain. This discovery opened their eyes to many other things. If the worship of the gods was only kept up in order to give money to the priests; and if, in order to keep up this great system, the priests had to call to their aid the gloomy spirits of caste and custom, then there might be escape for India from these terrible things. And with eyes open to all she saw, Ramabai began to notice more than ever before what a terrible life high caste Hindu widows had to live when they were not the mothers of sons. Gradually she and her brother gathered groups of people to listen to them as their father had done. Soon the days of poverty were over, for Ramabai had found out where one of her great powers lay. Crowds gathered to hear her speak, and to wonder at her knowledge. But this relief came too late for her brother, who had been so much worn out with want that his strength gave way, and though he saw his sister safe from the fear of poverty it was very hard for him to leave her alone. But though Ramabai’s faith in idols had gone, her faith in God grew stronger through the years, and she cheered the dying boy with the words, “God will take care of me.”