,,the ,,isles ,,of ,,sunset  by         
,,arthur ,,christopher ,,benson  ,author
 of ,the ,hill of ,trouble1 c4 c4       
,london3 ,sir ,isaac ,pitman  ,sons1    
,ltd4 ,no4 #a ,amen ,corner1 ,e4,c4     
#aijh ,printed by ,sir ,isaac ,pitman   
,sons1 ,ltd41 ,bath4 7#bjgd7            
,,to ,,hugh ,,macnaghten        ,the    
milkie way1 the bird of ,paradise1      
,church-bels beyond the starres heard1  
the souls bloud1     ,the land of       
spices2 something understood4      ,geo4
 ,herbert        ,let those whose       
,hearts and ,hands are strong           
,tell eager ,tales of mighty ,deeds2    
,enough if my sequestered song       ,to
 hush'd and twilight ,gardens leads6    
,clear ,waters1 drawn from secret ,wells
       ,perchance may fevered ,lips     
assuage2     ,the ,tales an elder       
,pilgrim tells       ,to such as go on  
,pilgrimage4      ,i wander by the      
waterside1       ,in that cool ,hour my 
,soul loves best1     ,when trembles    
o'er the rippling ,tide       ,a golden 

,stairway to the ,west4      ,such the  
soft ,path my ,words would trace1       
,thus with the moving ,waters move2     
,so leave1 across the ,ocean's ,face1   
,a glimmering ,stair to ,hope and ,love4
     ,contents      ,the ,isles of      
,sunset     ,the ,waving of the ,sword  
,renatus     ,the ,slype ,house     ,out
 of the ,sea     ,paul the ,minstrel    
,the ,isles of ,sunset    ,about midway 
between the two horns of the bay1 the   
,isles of ,sunset pierced the sea4      
,there was deep blue water all around   
them1 and the sharp and fretted         
pinnacles of rock rose steeply up to    
heaven4 ,the top of the largest was     
blunt1 and covered with a little carpet 
of grass and sea-herbs4 ,the rest were  
nought but cruel spires1 on which no    
foot but that of sea-birds could go4 ,at
 one place there was a small creek1 into
 which a boat might be thrust1 but only 
when the sea was calm2 and near the top 
of the rock1 just over this1 was the    
dark mouth of a little cave4  ,the bay  

in which the ,isles lay was quite       
deserted2 the moorland came to the edge 
of the cliffs1 and through a steep and  
rocky ravine1 the sides of which were   
overgrown with ferns and low trees1 all 
brushed landward by the fierce winds1 a 
stream fell hoarsely to the sea1 through
 deep rockpools4 ,the only living things
 there were the wild birds1 the moorfowl
 in the heather1 hawks that built in the
 rock face1 and pigeons that made their 
nest in hollow places4 ,sometimes a stag
 pacing slowly on the cliff-top would   
look over1 but that was seldom4  ,yet on
 these desolate and fearful rocks there 
dwelt a man1 a hermit named ,david4 ,he 
had grown up as a fisher-boy in the     
neighbouring village--an awkward silent 
boy with large eyes which looked as     
though they were full of inward dreams4 
,the people of the place were           
,christians after a sort1 though it was 
but seldom that a priest came near them2
 and then only by sea1 for there was no 
road to the place4 ,but ,david as a boy 

had heard a little of the ,lord ,christ1
 and of the bitter sacrifice he made for
 men2 and there grew up in his heart a  
great desire to serve ,him1 and he      
prayed much in his heart to the ,lord1  
that he would show him what he might do4
 ,he had no parents living4 ,his mother 
was long dead1 and his father had been  
drowned at sea4 ,he lived in the house  
of his uncle1 a poor fisherman with an  
angry temper1 where he fared very       
hardly2 for there were many mouths to   
feed1 and the worst fell to the least   
akin4 ,but he grew up handy and active1 
with strong limbs and a sure head2 and  
he was well worth his victual1 for he   
was a good fisherman1 patient of wind   
and rain2 and he could scale the cliff  
in places where none other dared go1 and
 bring down the eggs and feathers of the
 sea-birds4 ,so they had much use of    
him1 and gave him but little love in    
return4 ,when he was free of work1 the  
boy loved to wander alone1 and he would 
lie on the heather in the warm sun1 with

 his face to the ground1 drinking in the
 fragrant breath of the earth1 and      
praying earnestly in his heart to the   
,lord1 who had made the earth so fair   
and the sea so terrible4 ,when he came  
to man's estate1 he had thoughts of     
making a home of his own1 but his uncle 
seemed to need him--so he lingered on1  
doing as he was bid1 very silent1 but   
full of his own thoughts1 and sure that 
the ,lord would call him when he had    
need of him2 one by one the children of 
the family grew up and went their ways2 
then his uncle's wife died1 and then at 
last one day1 when he was out fishing   
with his uncle1 there came a squall and 
they beat for home4 ,but the boat was   
overset and his uncle was drowned2 and  
,david himself was cast ashore in a     
wonderful manner1 and found himself all 
alone4  ,now while he doubted what he   
should do1 he dreamed a dream that      
wrought powerfully in his mind4 ,he     
thought that he was walking in the dusk 
beside the sea1 which was running very  

high1 when he saw a light drawing near  
to him over the waves4 ,it was not like 
the light of a lantern1 but a diffused  
and pale light1 like the moon labouring 
in a cloud4 ,the sea began to abate its 
violence1 and then ,david saw a figure  
coming to him1 walking1 it seemed1 upon 
the water as upon dry land1 sometimes   
lower1 sometimes higher1 as the waves   
ran high or low4 ,he stopped in a great 
wonder to watch the approach of the     
figure1 and he saw that it was that of a
 young man1 going very slowly and       
tranquilly1 and looking about him with a
 gentle and smiling air of command4 ,all
 about him was a light1 the source of   
which ,david could not see1 but he      
seemed like a man walking in the light  
of an open window1 when all around is   
dark4 ,as he came near1 ,david saw that 
he was clad in a rough tunic of some    
dark stuff1 which was girt up with a    
girdle at the waist4 ,his head and his  
feet were bare4 ,yet though he seemed   
but poorly clad1 he had the carriage of 

a great prince1 whose power none would  
willingly question4 ,but the strangest  
thing was that the sea grew calm before 
his feet1 and though the wind was       
blowing fiercely1 yet it did not stir   
the hair1 which fell somewhat long on   
his shoulders1 or so much as ruffle his 
robe4 ,and then there came into ,david's
 head a verse of ,scripture where it    
says1 ,what manner of man is this that  
even the winds and the sea obey him8    
,and then the answer came suddenly into 
,david's mind1 and he knelt down where  
he was upon the beach1 and waited in a  
great and silent awe2 and presently that
 ,one drew near1 and in some way that   
,david did not understand1 for he used  
no form of speech1 his eyes made        
question of ,david's soul1 and seemed to
 read its depths4 ,and then at last ,he 
spoke in words that ,he had before used 
to a fisherman beside another sea1 and  
said very softly1 ,follow ,me4 ,but ,he 
said not how ,he should be followed2 and
 presently ,he seemed to depart in a    

shining track across the sea1 till the  
light that went with ,him sank like a   
star upon the verge4 ,then in his dream 
,david was troubled1 and knew not how to
 follow2 till he thought that it might  
be given him1 as it was given once to   
,peter1 to walk dry-shod over the depth2
 but when he set foot upon the water    
there broke so furious a wave at him1   
that he knew not how to follow4 ,so he  
went back and kneeled upon the sand1 and
 said aloud in his doubt1 ,what shall ,i
 do1 ,lord8 and as the words sounded on 
his tongue he awoke4  ,then all that day
 he pondered how he should find the     
,lord2 for he knew that though he had a 
hope in his heart1 and though he leaned 
much upon ,god1 yet he had not wholly   
found him yet4 ,god was sometimes with  
him and near to him1 but sometimes far  
withdrawn2 and then1 for he was a very  
simple man1 he said in himself1 ,i will 
give myself wholly to the search for my 
,lord4 ,i will live solitary1 and ,i    
will fix my mind upon ,him2 for he      

thought within himself that his hard    
life1 and the cares of the household in 
which he had dwelt1 had been what had   
perhaps kept him outside2 and therefore 
he thought that ,god had taken these    
cares away from him4 ,and so he made up 
his mind4  ,then he cast about where he 
had best dwell2 and he thought of the   
,isles of ,sunset as a lonely place1    
where he might live and not be          
disturbed4 ,there was the little cave   
high up in the rock-face1 looking       
towards the land1 to which he had once  
scrambled up4 ,this would give him      
shelter2 and there were moreover some   
small patches of earth1 near the base of
 the rock1 where he could grow a few    
herbs and a little corn4 ,he had some   
money of his own1 which would keep him  
until his garden was grown up2 and he   
could fish1 he thought1 from the rocks1 
and find shell-fish and other creatures 
of the sea1 which would give him meat4  
,so the next day he bought a few tools  
that he thought he would need1 and rowed

 all over when it was dusk4 ,he put his 
small stores in a cave by the water's   
edge4 ,the day after1 he went and made a
 few farewells2 he told no one where he 
was going2 but it pleased him to find a 
little love for him in the hearts of    
some4 ,one parting was a strangely sore 
one3 there was an old and poor woman    
that lived very meanly in the place1 who
 had an only granddaughter1 a little    
maid4 ,these two he loved very much1 and
 had often done them small kindnesses4  
,he kept this good-bye to the last1 and 
went to the house after sundown4 ,the   
old woman bade him sit down1 and asked  
him what he meant to do1 now that he was
 alone4 ,i am going away1 mother1 he    
said gently4 ,the child1 hearing this1  
came over the room from where she sate1 
and said to him1 ,no1 ,david1 do not go 
away4 ,yes1 dear child1 he said1 ,i must
 even go4 ,then she said1 ,but where    
will you go8 ,may ,i not come to see you
 sometimes8 and she put her small arms  
round his neck1 and laid her cheek to   

his4 ,then ,david's heart was very full 
of love1 and he said smiling1 and with  
his arm round the child1 ,dear one1 ,i  
must not say where ,i am going--and it  
is a rough place1 too1 not fit for such 
tender little folk as you2 but1 if ,i   
can1 ,i will come again and see you4    
,then the old grandmother1 looking upon 
him very gravely1 said1 ,tell me what is
 in your mind4 ,but he said1 ,nay1      
mother1 do not ask me2 ,i am going to a 
place that is near and yet far2 and ,i  
am going to seek for one whom ,i know   
not and yet know2 and the way is long   
and dark4 ,then she forbore to ask him  
more1 and fell to pondering sadly2 so   
after they had sate awhile1 he rose up  
and loosed the child's arms from him1   
kissing her2 and the tears stood in his 
eyes2 and he thought in himself that    
,god was very wise2 for if he had had a 
home of his own1 and children whom he   
loved1 he could never have found it in  
his heart to leave them4 ,so he went    
out4  ,then he climbed up the steep path

 that led to the downs1 and so to the   
bay where the ,isles lay4 ,and just as  
he reached the top1 the moon ran out    
from a long bank of cloud2 and he saw   
the village lie beneath him1 very       
peaceful in the moonlight2 there were   
lights in some of the windows2 the roofs
 were silvered in the clear radiance of 
the moon1 and the shadows lay dark      
between4 ,he could see the little       
streets1 every inch of which he knew1   
and the port below4 ,he could see the   
coast stretch away to the east1 headland
 after headland1 growing fainter2 and   
the great spaces of the sea1 with the   
moon glittering on the waves4 ,there was
 a holy and solemn peace about it all2  
and though his life had not been a happy
 one there1 he knew in a flash that the 
place was very dear to his heart1 and he
 said a prayer to ,god1 that he would   
guard and cherish the village and those 
that dwelt there4 ,then he turned1 and  
went on to the downs2 and presently     
descended by a steep path to the sea1   

through the thickets4 ,he took off his  
clothes1 and tied them in a pack on his 
back2 and then he stepped quietly into  
the bright water1 which lapped very     
softly against the shore1 a little wave 
every now and then falling gently1      
followed by a long rustling of the water
 on the sand1 and a silence till the    
next wave fell4 ,he waded on till he    
could swim1 and then struck out to where
 the ,isles stood1 all sharp and bright 
in the moon4 ,he swam with long quiet   
strokes1 hearing the water ripple past2 
and soon the great crags loomed out     
above him1 and he heard the waves fall  
among their rocky coves4 ,at last he    
felt the ground beneath his feet2 and   
coming out of the water he dressed      
himself1 and then--for he would not     
venture on the cliffs in the uncertain  
light--gathering up some dried weeds of 
the sea1 he made a pillow for his head  
and slept1 in a wonderful peace of mind1
 until the moon set2 and not long after 
there came a pale light over the sea in 

the east1 brightening slowly1 until at  
last the sun1 like a fiery ball1 broke  
upwards from the sea2 and it was day4   
,now when ,david awoke in the broad     
daylight1 he found himself full of a    
great joy and peace4 ,he seemed1 as it  
were1 to have leaped over a wide ditch1 
and to see the world across it4 ,now he 
was alone with ,god1 and he had put all 
the old1 mean1 hateful life away from   
him4 ,it did not even so much as peep   
into his mind that he would have to     
endure many hardships of body1 rain1 and
 chilly winds1 a bed of rock1 and fare  
both hard and scanty4 ,this was not what
 had troubled him in the old days4 ,what
 had vexed his heart had been unclean   
words and deeds1 greediness1 hardness1  
cruel taunts1 the lack of love1 and the 
meanness and baseness of the petty life4
 ,all that was behind him now2 he felt  
free and strong1 and while he moved     
about to spy out his new kingdom1 he    
sang loudly to himself a song of praise4
 ,the place pleased him mightily2 over  

his head ran up the cliff with its stony
 precipices and dizzy ledges4 ,the lower
 rocks all fringed with weeds1 like     
sea-beasts with rough hair1 stood out   
black from the deep blue water that lay 
round the rocks4 ,he loved to hear the  
heavy plunge of the great waves around  
his bastions1 the thin cries of the     
sea-birds that sailed about the         
precipice1 or that lit on their airy    
perches4 ,everywhere was a brisk sharp  
scent of the sea1 and the fresh breeze1 
most unlike the close sour smell of the 
little houses4 ,he felt himself free and
 strong and clean1 and he thought of all
 the things he would say to ,god in the 
pleasant solitude1 and how he would hear
 the low and far-off voice of the       
,father speaking gently with his soul4  
,his first care was to find the cave    
that was to shelter him4 ,he spent the  
day in climbing very carefully and      
lightly all over the face of the rock4  
,never had he known his hand so strong1 
or his head so sure4 ,he sate for a time

 on a little ledge1 to which he had     
climbed on the crag face1 and he feasted
 his eyes upon the sight of the great   
cliffs of the mainland that ran opposite
 him1 to left and right1 in a wide      
half-circle4 ,his eyes dwelt with       
pleasure upon the high sloping shoulders
 of rock1 on which the sun now shone    
very peacefully1 the strip of moorland  
at the top1 the brushwood growing in the
 sloping coves1 the clean shingle at the
 base of the rocks1 and the blue sky    
over all4 ,that was the world as ,god   
had made it1 and as ,he intended it to  
be2 it was only men who made it evil1   
huddling together in their small and    
filthy dens1 so intent on their little  
ugly lives1 their food and drink and    
wicked ways4  ,presently he found the   
cave-mouth1 and noted in his mind the   
best way thither4 ,the cave seemed to   
him a very sweet place2 the mouth was   
all fringed with little ferns2 inside it
 was dry and clean2 and in a few hours  
he had disposed all his small goods     

within it4 ,there was a low slope1 on   
one side of the rocks1 where the fern   
grew plentifully4 ,he gathered great    
armfuls of the dry red stalks1 and made 
himself a rustling bed4 ,so the day wore
 pleasantly away4 ,one of his cares was 
to find water2 but here it seemed that  
,god blessed him very instantly1 for he 
found a place near the sea1 where a     
little spring soaked cool out of the    
rock1 with a pleasant carpet of moss and
 yellow flowers4 ,he found1 too1 some   
beds of shell-fish1 which he saw would  
give him food and bait for his fishing4 
,so about sundown he cast a line from   
the end of the rocks and presently      
caught a fish1 a ling1 which lives round
 rocky shores4 ,this he broiled at a    
small fire of driftwood1 for he had     
brought tinder with him2 and it pleased 
him to think of the meal that the       
,apostles took with the risen ,christ1 a
 meal which ,he had made for them1 and  
to which ,he ,himself called them2 for  
that1 too1 was a broiled fish1 and eaten

 by the edge of the sea4 ,also he ate a 
little of the bread he had brought with 
him2 and with it some of a brisk juicy  
herb1 called samphire1 that sprouted    
richly in the cliff1 which gave his meat
 an aromatic savour2 and with a drink of
 fresh spring water he dined well1 and  
was content2 then he climbed within the 
cave1 and fell asleep to the sound of   
the wind buffeting in the cliff1 and the
 fall of great waves on the sea beaches4
  ,now ,i might make a book of all the  
things that ,david saw and did on the   
islands1 but they were mostly simple and
 humble things4 ,he fared very hard1 but
 though he often wondered how he would  
find food for the next day1 it always   
came to him2 and he kept his health in a
 way which seemed to him to be          
marvellous2 indeed he seemed to himself 
to be both stronger in body and lighter 
in spirit than he had even been before4 
,he both saw and heard things that he   
could not explain4 ,there were sounds   
the nature of which he could not divine2

 on certain days there was a far-off    
booming1 even when the waves seemed     
still2 at times1 too1 there was a low   
musical note in the air1 like the       
throbbing of a tense string of metal2   
once or twice he heard a sound like soft
 singing1 and wondered in his heart what
 creature of the sea it might be that   
uttered it4 ,on stormy nights there were
 sad moans and cries1 and he often      
thought that there were strange and     
unseen creatures about him1 who hid     
themselves from sight1 but whose voices 
he certainly heard2 but he was never    
afraid4 ,one night he saw a very        
beautiful thing2 it had been a still    
day1 but there was an anxious sound in  
the wind which he knew portended a      
storm2 he was strangely restless on such
 days1 and woke many times in the night3
 at last he could bear the silence of   
the cave no more1 and went out1         
descending swiftly by the rocks1 the    
path over which he could have now       
followed blindfold1 down to the edge of 

the sea4 ,then he saw that the waves    
that beat against the rock were all     
luminous1 as though lit with an inner   
light2 suddenly1 far below1 how deep he 
knew not1 he saw a great shoal of fish1 
some of them very large1 coming softly  
round the rocks2 the water1 as it       
touched their blunt snouts1 burst as it 
were into soft flame1 and showed every  
twinkle of their fins and every beat of 
their tails4 ,the shoal came swiftly    
round the rocks1 swimming intently1 and 
it seemed as though there was no end of 
them4 ,but at last the crowd grew       
thinner and then ceased2 but he could   
still see the water rippling all radiant
 in the great sea-pools1 showing the    
motion of broad ribbons of seaweed that 
swayed to and fro1 and lighting up odd  
horned beasts that stirred upon the     
ledges4 ,from that day forth he was     
often filled with a silent wonder at all
 the sleepless life that moved beneath  
the vast waters1 and that knew nothing  
of the little human lives that fretted  

themselves out in the thin air above4   
,that day was to him like the opening of
 a door into the vast heart of ,god4    
,but for all his happiness1 the thought 
weighed upon him1 day after day1 of all 
the grief and unhappiness that there was
 about him4 ,a dying bird that he found 
in a pool1 and that rolled its filmy eye
 upon him in fear1 as if to ask why he  
must disturb it in its last sad languid 
hour1 the terror in which so many of the
 small fish abode--he saw once1 when the
 sea was clear1 a big fish dart like a  
dark shadow1 with open mouth and        
gleaming eye1 on a little shoal of      
fishes that sported joyfully in the sun2
 they scattered in haste1 but they had  
lost their fellows--all this made him   
ponder2 but most of all there weighed on
 his heart the thought of the world he  
had left1 of how men spoke evil of each 
other1 and did each other hurt2 of      
children whose lot was to be beaten and 
cursed for no fault1 but to please the  
cruel temper of a master2 of patient    

women1 who had so much to bear--so that 
sometimes he had dark thoughts of why   
,god made the world so fair1 and then   
left so much that was amiss1 like a foul
 stream that makes a clear pool turbid4 
,and there came into his head a horror  
of taking the lives of creatures for his
 own use--the shell-worm that writhed as
 he pulled it from the shell2 the bright
 fish that came up struggling and       
gasping from the water1 and that fought 
under his hand--and at last he made up  
his mind that he would take no more     
life1 though how he would live he knew  
not2 and as for the world of men1 he    
became very desirous to help a little as
 best he could2 and there being at this 
time a wreck in the bay1 when a boat and
 all on board were lost1 he thought that
 he would wish1 if he could1 to keep a  
fire lit on dark nights1 so that ships  
that passed should see that there was a 
dwelling there1 and so keep farther away
 from the dangerous rocks4  ,by this    
time it had become known in the country 

where he was--his figure had been seen  
several times from the cliffs2 and one  
day there had come a boat1 with some of 
those that knew him1 to the island4 ,he 
had no wish to mix again with men2 but  
neither did he desire to avoid them1 if 
it was ,god's will that they should     
come4 ,so he came down courteously1 and 
spoke with the master of the boat1 who  
asked him very curiously of his life and
 all that he did4 ,david told him all2  
and when the master asked him why he had
 thus fled away from the world1 ,david  
said simply that he had done so that he 
might pray to ,god in peace4 ,then the  
master said that there were many waking 
hours in the day1 and he knew not what  
there might be to say prayers about1    
for1 he said1 you have no book to make  
prayers out of1 like the priests1 and   
you have no store of good-sounding words
 with which to catch the ear of ,god4   
,then ,david said that he prayed to ,god
 to guard all things great and small1   
and to help himself along the steep road

 to heaven4 ,then the master wondered   
very much1 and said that a man must     
please himself1 and no doubt it was a   
holy work4 ,then he asked a little      
shamefacedly for ,david to pray for him1
 that he might be kept safe from        
shipwreck1 and have good fortune for    
fishing1 to which ,david replied1 ,oh1  
,i do that already4  ,before the master 
went away1 and he stayed not long1 he   
asked ,david how he lived1 and offered  
him food4 ,and ,david being then in a   
strait--for he had lately vowed to take 
no life1 said gladly that he would have 
anything they could give him4 ,so the   
master gave him some victual4 ,and it   
happened1 just at this time1 that some  
of the boats from the village had a     
wonderful escape from a storm1 and      
through that season they caught fish in 
abundance2 so it was soon noised abroad 
that this was all because of ,david's   
prayers2 and after that he never had    
need of food1 for they brought him many 
little presents1 such as eggs1 fruit1   

and bread--for he would take no         
meat--giving them into his hands when he
 was on the lower rocks1 or leaving them
 on a ledge in the cove when he was     
aloft4 ,and as1 when the fish were      
plenteous1 they gave him food in        
gratitude1 and when fish were scarce1   
they gave it him even more abundantly   
that they might have his prayers1 ,david
 was never in lack2 in all of which he  
saw the wonderful hand of ,god working  
for him4  ,now ,david pondered very much
 how he might keep a light aloft on     
dangerous nights4  ,his first thought   
was to find a sheltered place among the 
rocks to seaward1 where his fire could  
burn and not be extinguished by the     
wind2 but1 though he climbed all about  
the rocks1 he could find no place to his
 mind4 ,one day1 however1 he was in the 
furthest recess of his cave1 when he    
felt that among the rocks a little thin 
wind blew constantly from one corner2   
and feeling about with his hands1 he    
found that it came out of a small crack 

in the rocks4 ,the stone above it seemed
 to be loose2 and he perceived after a  
while that the end of the cave must be  
very near to the seaward face of the    
crag1 and that the cave ran right       
through the rock1 and was only kept from
 opening on the outer side by a thin    
barrier of stone2 so after several      
attempts1 using all his strength1 he    
worked the stone loose2 and then with a 
great effort1 he thrust the stone out2  
it fell with a great noise1 leaping     
among the crags1 and at last plunging   
into the sea4 ,the wind rushed in       
through the gap2 then he saw that he    
had1 as it were1 a small window looking 
out to sea1 so small that he could not  
pass through it1 but large enough to let
 a light shine forth1 if there were a   
light set there2 but though it seemed   
again to him like the guiding hand of   
,god1 he could not devise how he should 
shelter the light within from the wind4 
,indeed the hole made the cave a far    
less habitable place for himself1 for   

the wind whistled very shrewdly through2
 he found it easy enough to stop the gap
 with an old fisherman's coat--but then 
the light was hidden from view4 ,so he  
tried a further plan2 he dug a hole in  
the earth at the top of the cliff1 and  
then made a bed of dry sand at the      
bottom of it2 and he piled up dry       
seaweed and wood within1 thinking that  
if he lit his beacon there1 it might be 
sheltered from the wind1 and would burn 
fiercely enough to throw up the flame   
above the top of the pit4 ,he saw that  
heavy rain would extinguish his fire2   
but the nights were most dangerous when 
it blew too strongly for rain to fall4  
,so one night1 when the wind blew       
strongly from the sea1 he laid wood in  
order1 which he had gathered on the     
land1 and conveyed with many toilsome   
journeys over to the island4 ,then he   
lighted the pile1 but it was as he      
feared2 the wind blew fiercely over the 
top1 and drove the flames downward1 so  
that the pit glowed with a fierce heat2 

and sometimes a lighted brand was caught
 up and whirled over the cliffs2 but he 
saw plainly enough that the light would 
not show out at sea4 ,he was very sad at
 this1 and at last went heavily down to 
his cave1 not knowing what he should do2
 and pondering long before he slept1 he 
could see no way out4  ,in the morning  
he went up to the cliff-top again1 and  
turned his steps to the pit4 ,the fire  
had burned itself out1 but the sides    
were still warm to the touch2 all the   
ashes had been blown by the force of the
 wind out of the hole2 but he saw some  
bright things lie in the sand1 which he 
could not wholly understand1 till he    
pulled them out and examined them       
carefully4 ,they were like smooth tubes 
and lumps of a clear stuff1 like molten 
crystal or frozen honey1 full of bubbles
 and stains1 but still strangely        
transparent2 and then1 though he saw    
that these must in some way have        
proceeded from the burning of the fire1 
he felt as though they must have been   

sent to him for some wise reason4 ,he   
turned them over and over1 and held them
 up to the light4 ,it came suddenly into
 his mind how he would use these        
heavenly crystals2 he would make1 he    
thought1 a frame of wood1 and set these 
jewels in the frame4 ,then he would set 
this in the hole of his cave1 and burn a
 light behind2 and the light would thus 
show over the sea1 and not be           
extinguished4  ,so this after much      
labour he did2 he fitted all the clear  
pieces into the frame1 and he fixed the 
frame very firm in the hole with wooden 
wedges4 ,then he pushed clay into the   
cracks between the edges of the frame   
and the stone4 ,then he told some of    
those who came to him that he had need  
of oil for a purpose1 and they brought  
it him in abundance1 and wicks for a    
lamp2 and these he set in an earthen    
bowl filled with oil1 and on a dark     
night1 when all was finished1 he lit his
 lamp2 and then clambered out on the    
furthest rocks of the island1 and saw   

his light burn in the rocks1 not        
clearly1 indeed1 but like an eye of     
glimmering fire4 ,then he was very glad 
at heart1 and he told the fishermen how 
he had found means to set a light among 
the cliffs1 and that he would burn it on
 dark and stormy nights1 so that they   
might see the light and avoid the       
danger4 ,the tidings soon spread1 and   
they thought it a very magical and holy 
device2 but did not doubt that the      
knowledge of it was given to ,david by  
,god4  ,so ,david was in great          
happiness4 ,for he knew that the ,father
 had answered his prayer1 and allowed   
him1 however little1 to help the        
seafaring folk4  ,he made other things  
after that2 he put up a doorway with a  
door of wood in the entering of the     
cave2 he made1 too1 a little boat that  
he might go to and fro to the land      
without swimming4 ,and now1 having no   
care to provide food1 for they brought  
it him in abundance1 he turned his mind 
to many small things4 ,he made a holy   

carving in the cave1 of ,christ upon the
 cross--and he carved around it a number
 of creatures1 not men only but birds   
and beasts1 looking to the ,cross1 for  
he thought that the beasts also should  
have their joy in the great offering4   
,his fame spread abroad2 and there came 
a priest to see him1 who abode with him 
for some days1 prayed with him1 and     
taught him much of the faith4 ,the      
priest gave him a book1 and showed him  
the letters2 but ,david1 though he      
longed to read what was within1 could   
not hold the letters in his head4  ,he  
tamed1 too1 the wild birds of the rock1 
so that they came to his call2 one was a
 gull1 which became so fearless that it 
would come to his cave1 and sit silent  
on a rock1 watching him while he worked4
 ,he kept a fish1 too1 in a pool of the 
rocks1 that would rise to the edge when 
he approached4  ,but all this time he   
went not near to the village2 for his   
solitude had become very dear to him1   
and he prayed continually2 and at       

evening and morning and midday he would 
sing praises to ,god1 simple words that 
he had made4  ,one morning he awoke in  
the cave1 and as he bestirred himself he
 thought in his heart of all his        
happiness4 ,it was a still morning1 but 
the sky was overcast4 ,suddenly he heard
 voices below him2 and thinking that he 
was needed1 he descended the rocks      
quickly1 and came down a little way from
 a group of sailors who were standing on
 the shore2 there was a boat drawn up on
 the sand1 and near at hand there lay at
 anchor a small ship1 that seemed to be 
of a foreign gear1 and larger than he   
was wont to see4 ,he came somewhat      
suddenly upon the group1 and they       
seemed1 as it were1 to be amazed to see 
a man there4 ,he went smilingly towards 
them1 but as he did so there came into  
his heart a feeling of danger1 he knew  
not what2 and he thought that it would  
be better to retire up the rocks to his 
cave1 and wait till the men had         
withdrawn--for it was not likely that   

they would visit him there1 or that even
 if they saw the way thither1 they would
 adventure it1 as it was steep and      
dangerous4 ,but he put the thought away 
and came up to them4 ,they seemed to be 
conferring together in low voices1 and  
the nearer that he drew1 the less he    
liked their look4 ,he spoke to them1 but
 they seemed not to understand1 and     
answered him back very roughly in a     
tongue he did not understand4 ,but      
presently they put one forward1 an old  
man1 who had some words of ,english1 who
 asked him what he did there4 ,he tried 
to explain that he lived on the island1 
but the old man shook his head1         
evidently not believing that there could
 be one living in so bare a place4 ,then
 the men conferred again together1 and  
presently the old man asked him1 in his 
broken speech1 whether he would take    
service on the ship with them4 ,david   
said1 smiling1 that he would not1 for he
 had other work to do2 and the old man  
seemed to try and persuade him1 saying  

that it was a good service2 that they   
lived a free life1 wandering where they 
would2 but that they had lost men       
lately1 and were hardly enough to sail  
the ship4  ,then it came into ,david's  
mind that he had fallen in with pirates4
 ,they were not often seen in these     
parts1 for there was little enough that 
they could get1 the folk being all poor1
 and small traffic passing that way4    
,and then1 for he saw the group         
beginning to gather round him1 he made a
 prayer in his heart that he should be  
delivered from the evil1 and made       
proffer to the men of the little stores 
that he had4 ,the old man shook his     
head1 and spoke with the others1 who now
 seemed to be growing angry and         
impatient2 and then he said to ,david   
that they had need of him to help to    
sail the ship1 and that he must come    
whether he would or no4 ,david cast a   
glance round to see if he could escape  
up the rocks2 but the men were all about
 him1 and seeing in his eye that he     

thought of flight1 they laid hands upon 
him4 ,david resisted with all his might1
 but they overpowered him in a moment1  
bound his hands and feet1 and cast him  
with much force into their boat4 ,then  
,david was sorely disheartened2 but he  
waited1 committing his soul to ,god4    
,while he waited1 he saw a strange      
thing2 on the beach there lay a box1    
tightly corded2 the men raised this up  
very gently1 and with difficulty1 as it 
seemed to be heavy4 ,then they carried  
it up above the tide-mark2 and1 making a
 hole among the loose stones1 they      
buried it very carefully1 casting stones
 over it4 ,then one of them with a      
chisel made a mark on the cliff behind1 
to show where the box lay--and then1    
first looking carefully out to sea1 they
 came into the boat1 and rowed off to   
the ship1 which seemed almost deserted2 
paying no more heed to ,david than if he
 had been a log of wood4  ,the old man  
who understood ,english steered the     
boat2 and ,david tried to say some words

 to him1 to ask that he should be       
released2 but the old man only shook his
 head2 and at last bade ,david be silent
 with great anger4 ,they rowed slowly   
out1 and ,david could see the great     
rocks1 that had now been his home so    
long1 rising1 still and peaceful1 in the
 morning light4 ,every rock and cranny  
was known to him4 ,there was the place  
where1 when he first came1 he was used  
to fish4 ,there was the cliff-top where 
he had made his fire2 he could even see 
his little window in the front of the   
rocks1 and he thought with grief that it
 would be dark and silent henceforth4   
,but he thought that he was somehow in  
the hand of ,god2 and that though to be 
dragged away from his home seemed       
grievous1 there must be some task to    
which the ,father would presently set   
him1 even if it were to go down to      
death2 and though the cords that bound  
him were now very painful1 and his heart
 was full of sorrow1 yet ,david felt a  
kind of peace in his spirit which showed

 him that ,god was still with him4      
,when they got to the ship1 there arose 
a dispute among the men as to whether   
they should run out to sea before it was
 dark1 or whether they should lie where 
they were2 there was but little wind1 so
 they made up their minds to stay4      
,david himself thought from the look of 
the sky that there was strong weather   
brewing4 ,the old man who spoke ,english
 asked him what he thought1 and he told 
him that there would be wind4 ,he seemed
 to be disposed to believe ,david2 but  
the men were tired1 and it was decided  
to stay4  ,they had unbound ,david that 
he might go on board2 and the pain in   
his hands and feet was very great when  
the bonds were unloosed2 and when he was
 on board they bound him again1 but not 
so tightly1 and led him down into a     
cabin1 close and dirty1 where a foul and
 smoky lamp burnt4 ,they bade him sit in
 a corner4 ,the low ill-smelling place  
was very grievous to ,david1 and he     
thought with a sore heart of his clean  

cold cave1 and his bed of fern4 ,the men
 seemed to take no further heed of him1 
and went about preparing a meal4 ,there 
seemed to be little friendliness among  
them2 they spoke shortly and scowled    
upon each other2 and ,david divined that
 there had been some dispute aboard1 and
 that they were ill-content4 ,there was 
little discipline1 the men going and    
coming when they would4  ,before long a 
meal was prepared2 some sort of a stew  
with a rich strong smell1 that seemed   
very gross and foul to ,david1 who had  
been used so long to his simple fare4   
,the men came in and took from the dish 
what they desired2 and a large jar was  
opened1 which from its fierce smell     
seemed to contain a hot and fiery       
spirit2 and that it was so ,david could 
easily discern1 from the flushed faces  
and louder talk of the men1 which soon  
became mingled with a gross merriment4  
,the old man brought a mess of the food 
to ,david1 who shook his head smiling4  
,then the other1 with more kindness than

 ,david had expected1 asked if he would 
have bread2 and fetched him a large     
piece1 unbinding his hands for a little1
 that he might eat4 ,then he offered him
 some of the spirit2 but ,david asked   
for water1 which the old man gave him1  
binding his hands after he had drunk1   
with a certain gentleness4  ,presently  
the old man1 after he too had eaten1    
came and sate down beside ,david2 and in
 his broken talk seemed to wish to win  
him1 if he could1 to join them more     
willingly4 ,he spoke of the pleasant    
life they lived1 and of the wealth that 
they made1 though he said not how they  
came by it4 ,he told him that he had    
seen some of it hidden that day1 which  
they had done for greater security1 so  
that1 if the ship should be cast away1  
the men might have some of their spoil  
waiting for them2 and ,david understood 
from him1 though he had but few words to
 explain it1 that it had been that which
 had caused a strife among them4 ,for   
they had come by the treasure very      

hardly1 and they had lost some of the   
crew in so doing it--and some of the men
 had desired to share it1 and have done 
with the sea for ever2 but that it had  
been decided to make another voyage     
first4  ,then ,david said very gently   
that he did not desire to join them1 for
 he was a man of peace2 and he told him 
of his lonely life1 and how he made a   
light to keep ships off the dangerous   
coast2 and at that the old man looked at
 him with a fixed air1 and nodded his   
head as though he had himself heard of  
the matter1 or at least seen the        
light--all this ,david told him1        
speaking slowly as to a child2 but it   
seemed as though every minute the       
remembrance of the language came more   
and more back to the old man4  ,but at  
last the man shook his head1 and said   
that he was sorry so peaceful a life    
must come to an end4 ,but1 indeed1      
,david must go with them whether he     
would or no2 and that they would be good
 comrades yet2 and he should have his   

share of whatever they got4 ,and then he
 left ,david and went on to the deck4   
,then there fell a great despair upon   
,david2 and at the same time the crew1  
excited by the drink they had taken1 for
 they drained the jar1 began to dispute 
among themselves1 and to struggle and   
fight2 and one of them espied ,david1   
and they gathered round and mocked him4 
,they mocked at his dress1 his face1 his
 hair1 which had grown somewhat long4   
,and one of them in particular seemed   
most urgent1 speaking long to the       
others1 and pointing at ,david from time
 to time1 while the others fell into a  
great laughter4 ,then they fell to      
plucking his hair1 and even to beating  
him--and they tried to force the spirit 
into his mouth1 but he kept his teeth   
clenched2 and the very smell of the     
fiery stuff made his brain sick4 ,but he
 could nor stir hand or foot2 and       
presently there came into his mind a    
great blackness of anger1 so that he    
seemed to be in the very grip of the    

evil one2 and he knew in his heart that 
if he had been unbound1 he would have   
slain one or more of them2 for his heart
 beat thick1 and there came a strange   
redness into his sight1 and he gnashed  
his teeth for rage2 at which they mocked
 him the more4 ,but at last the old man 
came down into the cabin1 and when he   
saw what they were at1 he spoke very    
angrily to them1 stamping his foot2 and 
it seemed as though he alone had any    
authority1 for they left off ill-using  
,david1 and went from him one by one4   
,then1 after a while they began to nod  
in their places2 one or two of them cast
 themselves into beds made in the wall2 
others fell on the floor1 and slept like
 beasts2 and at last they all slept2 and
 last of all the old man came in again1 
bearing a lamp1 and looked round the    
room in a sort of angry disgust4 ,then  
he said a word to ,david1 and opening a 
door went on into a cabin beyond1       
closing the door behind him4  ,then1 in 
the low light of the smoking lamp1 and  

in the hot and reeking room1 with the   
foul breathing of the sleepers round    
him1 ,david spent a very dreadful hour4 
,he had never in the old days seen so   
ill a scene2 and it was to him1         
exhausted by pain and by rage1 as if a  
dark thing came behind him1 and         
whispered in his secret ear that ,god   
regarded not men at all1 and that the   
evil was stronger than the good1 and    
prevailed4 ,he tried to put the thought 
away2 but it came all the more          
instantly1 that what he had seen could  
not be1 if ,god had indeed power to     
rule4 ,it was not only the scene itself1
 but the thought of what these men were1
 and the black things they had doubtless
 done1 the deeds of murder1 cruelty1 and
 lust that were written plainly on all  
their faces2 all these came like dark   
shadows and gathered about him4  ,david 
stirred a little to ease himself of his 
pain and stiffness2 and his foot struck 
against a thing4 ,he looked down1 and   
saw in the shadow of the table a knife  

lying1 which had fallen from some man's 
belt4 ,a thought of desperate joy came  
into his mind4 ,he bent himself down    
with his bound hands1 and he contrived  
to gather up the knife4 ,then1 very     
swiftly and deftly1 he thrust the haft  
between his knees2 then he worked the   
rope that bound his hands to and fro    
over the blade2 the rope parted1 and the
 blood came back into his numbed fingers
 with a terrible pain4 ,but ,david      
heeded it not1 and stooping down1 he cut
 the cord that bound his feet2 then he  
rose softly1 and sate down again2 for   
the blood1 returning to his limbs1 made 
him feel he could not stand yet awhile4 
,all was still in the cabin1 except for 
the slow breathing of those that slept2 
save that every now and then one of the 
sleepers broke into a stifled cry1 and  
muttered words1 or stirred in his sleep4
  ,presently ,david felt that he could  
walk4 ,he pondered for a moment whether 
he should take the knife1 if he were    
suddenly attacked2 but he resisted the  

thought1 and left the knife lying on the
 ground4  ,then stepping lightly among  
the sleepers1 he moved like a shadow to 
the door2 very carefully he stepped2 and
 at each movement or muttered word he   
stopped and caught his breath4 ,suddenly
 one of the men rose up1 leaning on his 
arm1 and looked at him with a stupid    
stare2 but ,david stood still1 waiting1 
with his heart fit to break within his  
breast1 till the man lay down again4    
,then ,david was at the door4 ,the cabin
 occupied half the ship to the bows2 the
 rest was undecked1 with high bulwarks2 
a rough ladder of steps led to the      
gangway4 ,david stood for a moment in   
the shadow of the door2 but there seemed
 no one on the watch without4 ,the pure 
air and the fresh smell of the sea came 
to his senses like a breath of heaven4  
,he stepped swiftly over a coil of rope2
 then up the ladder1 and plunged        
noiselessly into the sea4  ,he swam a   
few strokes very strongly2 and then he  
looked about him4 ,the night was as dark

 as pitch4 ,he could see a dim light    
from the ship behind him2 the water rose
 and fell in a slow heavy swell2 but    
which way the land lay he could not     
tell4 ,but he said to himself that it   
was better to drown and be certainly    
with ,god1 than in the den of robbers he
 had left4 ,so he turned himself round  
in the water1 trying to remember where  
the shore lay1 but it was all dark1 both
 the sky and sea1 with a pitchy         
blackness2 only the lights of the ship  
glimmered towards him like little bright
 paths across the heaving tide4         
,suddenly there came a thing so         
wonderful that ,david could hardly      
believe he saw truly2 a bright eye of   
light1 as it were1 opened upon him in   
the dark1 far off1 and hung high in the 
heavens1 like a quiet star4 ,the        
radiance of it was like the moon1 cold  
and clear4 ,and though ,david could not 
at first divine whence it came1 he did  
not doubt in his heart that it was there
 to guide him2 so he struck out towards 

it1 with long silent strokes4 ,he swam  
for a long time1 the light shining      
softly over the water1 and seeming to   
rise higher over his head1 while the    
glimmering of the ship's lights grew    
fainter and more murky behind him4 ,then
 he became aware that he was drawing    
near to the land2 great dark shapes     
loomed up over his head1 and he heard   
the soft beating of waves before him4   
,then he could see too1 as he looked    
upon the light1 that there was a glimmer
 around it2 and he saw that it came from
 the edges and faces of rocks that were 
lit up by the radiance4 ,so he swam more
 softly2 and presently his foot struck a
 rock covered with weed2 so he put his  
feet down1 waded in cautiously1 and     
pulling himself up by the hands found   
himself on a rocky shore1 and knew that 
it was his own island4  ,then the light 
above him1 as though it had but waited  
for his safety to be secured1 died      
softly away1 like the moon gliding into 
a cloud4 ,david wondered very much at   

this1 and cast about in his mind how it 
might be2 but his heart seemed to tell  
him that there was some holy and        
beautiful thing on the island very near 
to him4 ,he could hardly contain himself
 for gladness2 and he thought that ,god 
had doubtless given him this day of     
misery and terror1 partly that he might 
value his peace truly1 and partly that  
he might feel that he had it not of     
right1 but by the gracious disposition  
of the ,father4  ,so he climbed very    
softly and swiftly to the cave2 and     
entered it with a great gladness2 and   
then he became aware of a great awe in  
his mind4 ,there was somewhat there1    
that he could not see with his eyes1 but
 which was more real and present than   
anything he had ever known2 the cave    
seemed to shine with a faint and tender 
gleam that was dying away by slow       
degrees2 as though the roof and walls   
had been charged with a peaceful light1 
which still rayed about them1 though the
 radiance that had fed it was withdrawn4

 ,he took off his dripping clothes1 and 
wrapped himself in his old sea-cloak4   
,but he did not think of sleep1 or even 
of prayer2 he only sate still on his bed
 of fern1 with his eyes open in the     
darkness1 drinking in the strong and    
solemn peace which seemed to abide      
there4 ,david never had known such a    
feeling1 and he was never to know it    
again so fully2 but for the time he     
seemed to sit at the foot of ,god1      
satisfied4 ,while he thus sate1 a great 
wind sprang up outside and thundered in 
the rocks2 fiercer and fiercer it blew1 
and soon there followed it the loud     
crying of the sea1 as the great waters  
began to heave and rage4 ,then ,david   
bestirred himself to light and trim his 
lamp1 and set it in the window as a     
warning to ships4 ,and when he had done 
this he felt a great and sudden         
weariness1 and he laid himself down2 and
 sleep closed over him at once1 as the  
sea closes over a stone that is flung   
into it4  ,once in the night he woke1   

with the roar of the storm in his ears1 
and wondered that he had slept through  
it4 ,he had been through many stormy    
nights1 but he had never heard the like 
of this4 ,the wind blew with a steady   
roar1 like a flood of thunder outpoured2
 in the midst of if1 the great waves1   
hurled upon the rocks1 uttered their    
voices2 and between he heard the hiss of
 the water1 as it rushed downwards from 
the cliff face4 ,in the midst of all    
came a sharp and sudden wailing cry2 and
 then he began to wonder what the poor  
ship was doing1 which he thought of as  
riding furiously at her anchor1 with the
 drunken crew1 and the old man with his 
sad and solemn face1 who seemed so      
different from his unruly followers1 and
 yet was not ashamed to rule over them  
and draw profit from their evil deeds4  
,in spite of the ill they had tried to  
do him1 he felt a great pity for them in
 his heart2 but this was but for a      
moment1 for sleep closed over him again1
 and drew him down into forgetfulness4  

,when ,david woke in the morning1 the   
gale had died away1 but the sky wept    
from low and ragged clouds1 as if       
ashamed and sullen at the wrath of the  
day before4 ,water trickled in the      
cracks of the rock2 and when ,david     
peered abroad1 he looked into the thin  
drifting clouds4 ,he had a great content
 in his heart1 but the awe and the      
strange peace of the night had somehow  
diminished4  ,he began to reflect upon  
the light that he had seen from the sea4
 ,it was not his lamp that had given out
 such light1 for it was clear and thin1 
while the light his own lamp gave was   
angry and red4 ,moreover1 when he had   
lighted the lamp before the storm1 it   
was standing idle1 not in the           
window-place1 but on the rock-shelf     
where he had set it4 ,then he knew that 
some great and holy mystery had been    
wrought for him that night1 and that he 
had been very tenderly used4  ,presently
 he descended the cliff1 and went out   
upon the seaward side4 ,the waves still 

rose angrily under the grey sky1 but    
were fast abating4 ,he saw in a moment  
that the shore was full of wreckage3    
there were spars and timbers everywhere1
 and all the litter of a ship4 ,some of 
the timbers were flung so high upon the 
rocks that he saw how great the violence
 of the storm had been4 ,he walked      
along1 and in a minute he came upon the 
body of a man lying on his face1        
strangely battered4  ,then he saw       
another body1 and yet another4 ,he      
lifted them up1 but there was no sign of
 life in them2 and he recognised with a 
great sadness that they were the pirates
 who had dragged him from his home4 ,he 
had for a moment one evil thought in his
 mind1 a kind of triumph in his heart   
that ,god had saved him from his        
enemies1 and delivered them over to     
death2 but he knew that it was a wicked 
thought1 and thrust it from him2 at last
 at the end of the rocks he found the   
old captain himself4 ,there was a kind  
of majesty about him1 even in death1 as 

he lay looking up at the sky1 with one  
arm flung across his breast1 and the    
other arm outstretched beside him4 ,then
 he saw the ribs of the ship itself     
stick up among the rocks1 and he        
wondered to find the hull so broken and 
ruinous4  ,his next care was that the   
poor bodies should have burial4 ,so     
about midday he took his boat from its  
shelter1 and rowed across to the land2  
and then1 with a strange fear of the    
heart1 he climbed the cliff1 and walked 
down slowly to the village1 which he had
 thought in his heart he would never    
have seen again4  ,the wind had now     
driven the clouds out of the sky1 and   
the sun came out with a strong white    
light1 the light that shines from the   
sky when the earth has been washed clean
 by rain4 ,it sparkled brightly in the  
little drops that hung like jewels in   
the grass and bushes4 ,it was with a    
great throb of the heart that ,david    
came out upon the end of the down1 and  
saw the village beneath him4 ,it looked 

as though no change had passed over it1 
but as though its life must have stood  
still1 since he left it2 then there came
 tears into ,david's eyes at the thought
 of the old hard life he had lived      
there1 and how ,god had since filled his
 cup so full of peace2 so with many     
thoughts in his heart he came slowly    
down the path to the town4 ,he first met
 two children whom he did not know2 he  
spoke to them1 but they looked for a    
moment in terror at his face2 his hair  
and beard were long1 and he was all     
tanned by the sun2 but he spoke softly  
to them1 and presently they came to him 
and were persuaded to tell their names4 
,they were the children1 ,david thought1
 of a young lad whom he had known as a  
boy2 and presently1 as the manner of    
children is when they have laid aside   
fear1 they told him many small things1  
their ages and their doings1 and other  
little affairs which seem so big to a   
child2 and then they would take his     
hands and lead him to the village1 while

 ,david smiled to be so lovingly        
attended4 ,he was surprised1 when he    
entered the street1 to see how curiously
 he was regarded4 ,even men and women1  
that he had known1 would hardly speak   
with him1 but did him reverence4 ,the   
children would lead him to their house  
first2 and so he went thither1 not      
unwilling4 ,when they were at the place1
 he found with a gentle wonder that it  
was even the house where he had himself 
dwelt4 ,he went in1 and found the mother
 of the children within1 one whom he had
 known as a girl4 ,she greeted him with 
the same reverence as the rest2 so that 
he at last took courage1 and asked her  
why it should not be as it had been     
before4 ,and then he learned from her   
talk1 with a strange surprise1 that it  
was thought that he was a very holy man1
 much visited by ,god1 who not only had 
been shown how1 by a kind of magical    
secret1 to save ships from falling on   
that deadly coast1 but as one whose     
prayers availed to guard and keep the   

whole place safe4 ,he tried to show her 
that this was not so1 and that he was a 
simple person in great need of holiness2
 but he saw that she only thought him   
the holier for his humility1 so he was  
ashamed to say more4  ,then he went to  
the chief man in the village1 and told  
him wherefore he had come--that there   
was a wreck on the shore of the islands1
 and that there were bodies that must be
 buried4 ,one more visit he paid1 and   
that was to the little maiden whom he   
had seen the last when he went away4    
,she was now nearly grown to a woman1   
and her grandmother was very old and    
weak1 and near her end4 ,david went     
there alone1 and said that he had       
returned as he had promised2 but he     
found that the child had much lost her  
remembrance of him1 and could hardly see
 the friend she had known in the strong 
and wild-looking figure that he had     
become4 ,he talked a little quietly2 the
 old grandmother1 who could not move    
from her chair1 was easier with him1 and

 asked him1 looking curiously upon him1 
whether he had found that of which he   
went in search4 ,nay1 mother1 he said1  
not found2 but ,i am like a man whose   
feet are set in the way1 and who sees   
the city gate across the fields4 ,then  
she smiled at him and said1 ,but ,i am  
near the gate4 ,then he told her that he
 often thought of her1 and made mention 
of her in his prayers2 and so rose to   
go2 but she asked him to bless her1     
which ,david did very tenderly1 and     
kissed her and departed2 but he went    
heavily2 because he feared to be        
regarded as he was now regarded2 and he 
thought in his heart that he would never
 return again1 but dwell alone in his   
cave with ,god4 ,for the world troubled 
him2 and the voices of the children1 and
 the looks of those that he had known   
before seemed to lay soft hands about   
his heart1 and draw him back into the   
world4  ,the same day he returned to the
 cave2 and the boats came out and took  
the bodies away1 and they were laid in  

the burying-ground4  ,then the next day 
many returned to clear away the wreck2  
and ,david came not out of his cave     
while they did this2 for it went to his 
heart to see the joy with which they    
gathered what had meant the death of so 
many men4 ,they asked him what they     
should leave for him1 and he answered1  
,nothing--only a piece of plain wood1   
for a purpose4 ,so when evening came    
they had removed all2 and the island1   
that had rung all day with shouts and   
talk and the feet of men1 was silent    
again2 but before they went1 ,david said
 that he had a great desire to see a    
priest1 if a message could be sent2 and 
this they undertook to do4 ,but ,david  
was very heavy-hearted for many days1   
for it seemed to him that the sight of  
the world had put all the peace out of  
his heart2 and his prayers came hollow  
and dry4  ,a few days after there came a
 boat to the rock2 the sea was running  
somewhat high1 and they had much ado to 
make a landing4 ,david went down to the 

water's edge1 and saw that besides the  
fishermen1 whom he knew1 there was a    
little wizened man in a priest's dress1 
that seemed bewildered by the moving of 
the boat and the tossing of the big     
waves with their heaving crests1 that   
broke upon the rocks with a heavy sound4
 ,at last they got the boat into the    
creek1 and the little priest came nimbly
 ashore1 but not without a wetting4 ,the
 fishermen said that they would return  
in the evening1 and fetch the priest    
away4  ,he looked a frail man1 and      
,david could not discern whether he were
 young or old2 and he felt a pity for a 
man who was so unhandy1 and who seemed  
to be so scared of the sea4 ,but the    
priest came up to him and took his hand4
 ,i have heard much of you1 my brother1 
he said1 and ,i have desired to see     
you--but this sea of yours is a strange 
and wild monster1 and ,i trust it       
not1--though indeed it is ,god's        
handiwork4 ,yet ,king ,david1 your      
patron1 was of the same mind1 ,i think1 

and wrote in one of his wise psalms how 
it made the heart to melt within him4   
,david looked at him with much attention
 as he spoke1 and there was something in
 the priest's eye1 a kind of hidden     
fire1 joined with a wise mirth1 that    
made him1 all of a sudden1 feel like a  
child before him4 ,so he said1 ,where   
will your holiness sit8 ,it is cold here
 in the wind2 ,i have a dwelling in the 
rocks1 but it is hard to come by except 
for winged fowl1 and for men like myself
 who have been used to the precipices4  
,well1 show the way1 brother1 said the  
priest cheerfully1 and ,i will adventure
 my best4 ,so ,david showed him the way 
up the crags1 and went slowly in front  
of him1 that he might help him up2 but  
the priest climbed like a cat1 looking  
blithely about him1 and had no need of  
help1 though he was encumbered with his 
robe4  ,when they were got there1 the   
priest looked curiously about him1 and  
presently knelt down before the carving1
 and said a little prayer to himself4   

,then he questioned ,david about his    
life1 asking questions briskly1 as      
though he were accustomed to command2   
and ,david felt more and more every     
moment that he was as a child before    
this masterful and wary man4 ,he told   
him of his early life1 and of his       
visions1 and of his desire to know ,god1
 and of the light that he set in the    
rocks2 and then he told him of his      
adventure with the pirates1 not         
forgetting the treasure4 ,the priest    
heard him with great attention1 and said
 presently that he had done well1 and   
that ,god was with him4 ,then he asked  
him how he would have the treasure      
bestowed1 and ,david said that he had no
 design in his mind4 ,then that shall be
 my care1 said the priest1 and ,i doubt 
not that the ,lord hath sent it us1 that
 there may be a church in this lonely   
place4  ,and then1 turning to ,david    
with a wonderful and piercing look1 he  
said1 ,and this peace of spirit that you
 speak of1 that you came here to seek1  

tell me truly1 brother1 have you found  
it8  ,then ,david looked upon the ground
 a little and said1 ,dear sir1 ,i know  
not2 ,i am indeed strangely happy in    
this lonely place2 but to speak all the 
truth1 ,i feel like a man who lingers at
 a gate1 and who hears the sound of joy 
and melody within1 which rejoices his   
heart1 but he is not yet admitted4 ,no1 
he went on1 ,i have not found the way4  
,the ,father is indeed very near me1 and
 ,i am certain of ,his love--but there  
is still a barrier between me and ,his  
,heart4  ,then the priest bowed his head
 awhile in thought1 but said nothing for
 a long space2 and then ,david said1    
,dear sir1 advise me4 ,then the priest  
looked at him with a clear gaze1 and    
said1 ,shall ,i advise you1 ,o my       
brother8 ,and ,david said ,yes1 dear    
sir4 ,then the priest said1 ,indeed1 my 
brother1 ,i see in your life the        
gracious hand of ,god4 ,he did redeem   
you1 and he planted in your heart a true
 seed of peace4 ,you have lived here a  

holy and an innocent life2 but he       
withholds from you his best gift1       
because you are not willing to be       
utterly led by him4 ,there have been in 
ancient days many such souls1 who have  
fled from the wickedness of the world1  
and have spent themselves in prayer and 
penance1 and have done a holy work--for 
indeed there are many victories that may
 be won by prayer4 ,but indeed1 dear    
brother1 ,i think that ,god's will for  
you is that this lonely life of yours   
should have an end4 ,i think that you   
have herein followed your own pleasure  
overmuch2 and ,i believe that ,god would
 now have you go back to the world1 and 
work for him therein4 ,you have a great 
power with this simple folk2 but they   
are as sheep without a shepherd1 and    
must be fed1 and none but you can now   
feed them4 ,you will bethink you of the 
visit that the ,lord ,christ paid to the
 ,sisters of ,bethany2 ,martha laboured 
much to please ,him1 but she laboured   
for her own pleasing too2 and ,mary it  

was that had the good part1 because she 
thought not of herself but of the ,lord4
 ,and now1 dear brother1 ,i would have  
you do what will be very grievous to    
you4 ,i would have you go back to your  
native place1 and there abide to labour 
for ,god2 you may come hither at        
seasons1 and be alone with ,god1 and    
that will refresh you2 but you are now1 
methinks1 like a man who has found a    
great treasure1 and who speaks no word  
of it to others1 and neither uses it    
himself1 but only looks upon it and is  
glad4  ,then ,david was very sad at the 
priest's words1 knowing that he spoke   
the truth4 ,but the priest said1 ,now we
 will speak no more of this awhile2 and 
,i would not have you do it1 unless your
 heart consents thereto2 only be strong4
 ,and then he asked if he might have    
somewhat to eat2 and ,david brought him 
his simple fare2 so they ate together1  
and while they ate1 it came into        
,david's mind that this was certainly   
the way4 ,all that afternoon they sate1 

while the wind rustled without1 and the 
sea made a noise2 and then the priest   
said they would go and look at the      
treasure1 because it was near evening1  
and he must return4 ,so they went down  
together1 and drew the rocks off from   
the box4 ,it was a box of wood1 tightly 
corded1 and they undid it1 and found    
within a great store of gold and silver 
pieces1 which the priest reckoned up1   
and said that it would be abundant for a
 church4  ,then they saw the boat       
approach2 and the priest blessed ,david1
 and ,david thanked him with tears1 for 
showing him the truth2 and the priest   
said1 ,not so1 my brother2 ,i did but   
show you what is in your own heart1 for 
,god puts such truth in the heart of all
 of us as we can bear2 but sometimes we 
keep it like a sword in its scabbard1   
until the bright and sharp thing1 that  
might have wrought great deeds1 be all  
rusted and blunted4  ,and then the      
priest departed1 taking with him the box
 of gold1 and ,david was left alone4    

,david was very heavy-hearted when he   
was left alone on the island4 ,he knew  
that the priest had spoken the truth1   
but he loved his solitary life1 and the 
silence of the cave1 the free air and   
the sun1 and the lonely current of his  
own thoughts4 ,the sun went slowly down 
over the waters in a great splendour of 
light and colour1 so that the clouds in 
the sky seemed like purple islands      
floating in a golden sea2 ,david sitting
 in his cave thought with a kind of     
terror of the small and close houses of 
the village1 the sound of feet1 and talk
 of men and women4 ,at last he fell     
asleep2 and in his sleep he dreamed that
 he was in a great garden4 ,he looked   
about him with pleasure1 and he         
presently saw a gardener moving about at
 his work4 ,he went in that direction1  
and he saw that the man1 who was old and
 had a very wise and tender face1 was   
setting out some young trees in a piece 
of ground4 ,he planted them carefully   
with deft hands1 and he smiled to       

himself as he worked1 as though he was  
full of joyful thoughts4 ,david wished  
in his heart to go and speak with him1  
but something held him back4 ,presently 
the gardener went away1 and while he was
 absent1 another man1 of a secret       
aspect1 came swiftly into the place1    
peering about him4 ,his glance passed   
,david by1 and ,david knew that he was  
in some way unseen4 ,the man looked all 
about him in a furtive haste1 and then  
plucked up one of the trees1 which      
seemed to ,david to be already growing  
and shooting out small leaves and buds4 
,the man smoothed down the ground where 
he drew it out1 and then went very      
quickly away4 ,david would have wished  
to stop him1 but he could not4 ,then the
 old gardener came back1 and looked long
 at the place whence the tree had been  
drawn4 ,then he sighed to himself1 and  
cast a swift look in the direction in   
which the man had fled4 ,he had brought 
other trees with him1 but he did not    
plant one in the empty space1 but left  

it bare4 ,then ,david felt that he must 
follow the other1 and so he did4 ,he    
found him very speedily1 but it was     
outside the garden1 in a rough place1   
where thorny bushes and wild plants grew
 thickly4 ,the other had cleared a      
little space among them1 and here he set
 the tree2 but he planted it ill and    
hastily1 as though he was afraid of     
being disturbed2 and then he departed   
secretly4 ,david stood and watched the  
tree a little4 ,it seemed at first to   
begin to grow again as it had done      
before1 but presently something ailed it
 and it drooped4 ,then ,david saw the   
thorny bushes near it begin to stretch  
out their arms about it1 and the wild   
herbs round about sprang up swiftly1 and
 soon the tree was choked by them1 and  
hardly appeared above the brake4 ,david 
began to be sorry for the tree1 which   
still kept some life in it1 and         
struggled as it were feebly to put out  
its boughs above the thicket4 ,while he 
stood he saw the old gardener           

approaching1 and as he approached he    
carefully considered the ground4 ,when  
he saw the tree1 he smiled1 and drew it 
out carefully1 and went back to the     
garden1 and ,david followed him2 he     
planted it again tenderly in the ground2
 and the tree which had looked so       
drooping and feeble began at once to put
 forth leaves and flowers4 ,the gardener
 smiled again1 and then for the first   
time looked upon ,david4 ,his eyes were 
deep and grave like a still water2 and  
he smiled as one might who shares a     
secret with another4 ,and then of a     
sudden ,david awoke1 and found the light
 of dawn creeping into the cave2 and he 
fell to considering the dream1 and in a 
moment knew that it was sent for his    
learning4 ,so he hesitated no longer1   
but gave up his will to ,god4  ,it was a
 sad hour for ,david nevertheless2 he   
walked softly about the cave1 and he put
 aside what he would take with him1 and 
it seemed to him that he was1 as it     
were1 uprooting a tree that had grown   

deep2 he tied up what he would take with
 him1 but he left some things behind1   
for he thought that he might return4    
,and then he kneeled down and prayed1   
the tears running over his face2 and    
lastly he rose and kissed the cold wall 
of the cave2 at the door he saw the gull
 that had been with him so oft1 and he  
scattered some crumbs for it1 and while 
the bird fell to picking the crumbs1    
,david descended the rock swiftly1 not  
having the heart to look about him2 and 
then he put his things in the boat1 and 
rowed swiftly and silently to the shore1
 looking back at the great rocks1 which 
stood up all bright and clear in the    
fresh light of the dawn1 with the waves 
breaking softly at their feet4  ,david  
had no fixed plan in his mind1 as he    
rowed across to the land4 ,he only      
thought that it was right for him to    
return1 and to take up his part in the  
old life again4 ,he did not dare to look
 before him1 but simply put1 as it were1
 his hand in the hand of ,god1 and hoped

 to be led forward4 ,he was soon at the 
shore1 and he pulled his boat up on the 
land1 and left it lying in a little cave
 that opened upon the beach2 then he    
shouldered his pack1 and went slowly1   
with even strides1 across the hill and  
down to the village4 ,he met no one on  
the way1 and the street seemed deserted4
 ,he made his way to the house of the   
old woman who was his friend2 he put his
 small pack at the door and entered4    
,the little house was quite silent4 ,but
 he heard a sound of weeping2 when he   
came into the outer room1 he saw the    
maiden sitting in a chair with her face 
bowed on the table4 ,he called to her by
 name2 she lifted her head and looked at
 him for a moment and then rose up and  
came to him1 as a child comes to be     
comforted4 ,he saw at once that some    
grievous thing had happened2 and        
presently with sobs and tears she told  
him that her grandmother had died a few 
days before1 that she had been that day 
buried1 and that she knew not what she  

was to do2 there seemed more behind2 and
 ,david at last made out that she was   
asked in marriage by a young fisherman  
whom she did not love1 and she knew not 
how else to live4 ,and then he said that
 he was come back and would not depart  
from her1 and that she should be a      
daughter to him4  ,now of the rest of   
the life of ,david ,i must not here     
speak2 he lived in the village1 and he  
did his part2 a little chapel was built 
in the place with the money of the      
pirates2 and ,david went in and out     
among the folk of the place1 and drew   
many to the love of ,god2 he went once  
back to the cave1 but he abode not long 
there2 but of one thing ,i will tell1   
and that is of a piece of carving that  
,david did1 working little by little in 
the long winter nights at the piece of  
wood that came from the pirate ship4    
,the carving is of a man standing on the
 shore of the sea1 and holding up a     
lantern in his hand1 and on the sea is  
carved a ship4 ,and ,david calls his    

carving ,the ,light of the ,world4 ,at  
the top of it is a scroll1 with the     
words thereon1 ,he shall send down from 
on high to fetch me1 and shall take me  
out of many waters4 ,and beneath is     
another scroll on which is graven1 ,thou
 also shalt light my candle2 the ,lord  
my ,god shall make my darkness to be    
light4           99       99       99   
99       99     ,the ,waving of the     
,sword    ,the things that are set down 
here happened in the ancient days when  
there was sore fighting in the land2 the
 king1 who was an unjust man1 fighting  
to maintain his realm1 and the barons   
fighting for the law2 and the end was   
not far off1 for the king was driven    
backwards to the sea1 and at last could 
go no further2 so he gathered all the   
troops that he might in a strong fort   
that lay in the midst of the downs1     
where the hills dipped to the plain to  
let the river pass through2 and the     
barons drew slowly in upon him1 through 
the forest in the plain4 ,beyond the    

downs lay the sea1 and there in a little
 port was gathered the king's navy1 that
 if the last fight went ill with him1 as
 indeed he feared it would1 he might fly
 for safety to another land4  ,now in a 
house below the down1 a few miles from  
the king's stronghold1 dwelt a knight   
that was neither old nor young1 and his 
name was ,sir ,henry ,strange4 ,he lived
 alone and peevishly1 and he did neither
 good nor evil4 ,he had no skill in     
fighting1 but neither had he skill in   
peaceful arts4 ,he had tried many things
 and wearied of all4 ,he had but a small
 estate1 which was grown less by foolish
 waste4 ,he could have made it into a   
rich heritage1 for his land was good4   
,but he had no patience with his men1   
and confused them by his orders1 which  
he would not see carried out4 ,sometimes
 he would fell timber1 and then leave it
 to rot in the wood2 or he would plough 
a field1 and sow it not4 ,at one time he
 had a fancy to be a minstrel1 but he   
had not patience to attain to skill2 he 

would write a ballad and leave it       
undone2 or he would begin to carve a    
figure of wood1 and toss it aside2      
sometimes he would train a dog or a     
horse2 but he would so rage if the      
beast1 being puzzled for all its        
goodwill1 made mistakes1 that it grew   
frightened of him--for nothing can be   
well learnt except through love and     
trust4 ,he would sometimes think that he
 should have been a monk1 and that under
 hard discipline he would have fared    
better--and indeed this was so1 for he  
had abundant aptitude4 ,he was alone in 
the world1 for he had come into his     
estate when young2 but he had had no    
patience to win him a wife4 ,at first1  
indeed1 his life had not been an unhappy
 one1 for he was often visited by small 
joyful thoughts1 which made him glad2   
and he took much pleasure1 on sunshiny  
days1 in the brave sights and sounds of 
the world4 ,but such delights had grown 
less2 and he was now a tired and        
restless man of forty years1 who lay    

long abed and went not much abroad2 and 
was for ever telling himself how happy  
he would be if this or that were        
otherwise4 ,far down in his heart he    
despised himself1 and wondered how ,god 
had come to make so ill-contented a     
thing2 but that was a chamber in his    
mind that he visited not often2 but     
rather took pleasure in the thought of  
his skill and deftness1 and his fitness 
for the many things he might have done4 
,and now in the war he had come to a    
pass4 ,he would not join himself to the 
king1 because the king was an evil man1 
and he liked not evil2 yet he loved not 
rebellion1 and feared for his safety if 
the king had the upper hand2 but it was 
still more that he had grown idle and   
soft-hearted1 and feared the hard faring
 and brisk jesting of the camp4 ,yet    
even so the thought of the war lay heavy
 on his heart1 and he wondered how men1 
whose lives were so short upon the      
goodly earth1 should find it in their   
hearts to slay and be slain for such    

shadowy things as command and dominion2 
and he thought he would have made a song
 on that thought1 but he did not4  ,and 
now the fighting had come very near him2
 and he had let some of his men go to   
join the king1 but he went not himself1 
saying that he was sick1 and might not  
go abroad4  ,he stood on a day1 at this 
time1 by a little wall that enclosed his
 garden-ground4 ,it was in the early    
summer2 the trees had put on their fresh
 green1 and glistened in the still air1 
and the meadows were deep with grass1 on
 the top of which seemed to float       
unnumbered yellow flowers4 ,in and out  
the swallows passed1 hunting for the    
flies that danced above the grass2 and  
he stood1 knowing how fair the earth    
was1 and yet sick at heart1 wondering   
why he could not be as a careless bird1 
that hunts its meat all day in the sun1 
and at evening sings a song of praise   
among the thickets4  ,over the trees ran
 the great down with its smooth green   
sides1 as far as the eye could see4 ,the

 heat winked on its velvety bluffs1 and 
it seemed to him1 as it had often seemed
 before1 like a great beast lying there 
in a dream1 with a cloth of green cast  
over its huge limbs4  ,he was a tall    
lean man1 somewhat stooping4 ,his face  
had a certain beauty2 his hair and beard
 were dark and curling2 he had large    
eyes that looked sadly out from under   
heavy lids4 ,his mouth was small1 and   
had a very sweet smile when he was      
pleased2 but his brow was puckered      
together as though he pondered2 his     
hands were thin and delicate1 and there 
was something almost womanly about his  
whole air4  ,presently he walked into   
the little lane that bordered his       
garden4 ,he heard the sound of wheels   
coming slowly along the white chalky    
road2 he waited to look1 and saw a sad  
sight4 ,in the cart was a truss of hay1 
and sunk upon it sate a man1 his face   
down on his breast1 deadly pale2 as the 
cart moved1 he swayed a little from side
 to side4 ,the driver of the cart walked

 beside1 sullenly and slowly2 and by him
 walked a girl1 just grown a woman1 as  
pale as death1 looking at the man that  
sate in the cart with a look of terror  
and love2 sometimes she would take his  
helpless hand1 and murmur a word2 but   
the man heeded not1 and sate lost in his
 pain4 ,as they passed him he could see 
a great bandage on the man's chest that 
was red with blood4 ,he asked the       
waggoner what this was1 and he told him 
that it was a young man of the          
country-side that had been hurt in a    
fight2 he was but newly married1 and it 
was thought he could not live4 ,the cart
 had stopped1 and the woman pulled a    
little cup out of a jug of water that   
stood in the straw1 and put it to the   
wounded man's lips1 who opened his eyes1
 all dark and dazed with pain1 but with 
no look of recognition in them1 and     
drank greedily1 sinking back into his   
sick dream again4 ,the girl put the cup 
back1 and clasped her hands over her    
eyes1 and then across her breast with a 

low moan1 as though her heart would     
break4 ,the tears came into ,sir        
,henry's eyes2 and fumbling in his      
pockets he took out some coins and gave 
them to the woman1 with a kind word4    
,let him be well bestowed1 he said4 ,the
 woman took the coins1 hardly heeding   
him2 and presently the cart started     
again1 a shoot of pain darting across   
the wounded man's face as the wheels    
grated on the stones4  ,sir ,henry stood
 long looking after them2 and it came   
into his heart that war was a foul and  
evil thing2 though he half envied the   
poor soul that had fought his best1 and 
was now sinking into the shadow of      
death4  ,while he thus lingered there   
sprang into his mind a thought that made
 him suddenly grow erect4  ,he walked   
swiftly along the lane with its high    
hedges and tall elms4 ,the lane was at  
the foot of the down1 but raised a      
little above the plain1 so that he could
 see the rich woodland with its rolling 
lines1 and far away the faint line of   

the ,northern hills4 ,it was very still1
 and there seemed not a care in the     
great world2 it seemed all peace and    
happy quiet life2 yet the rumbling of   
the cart-wheels which he still heard at 
a distance1 now low and now loud1 told  
him of the sorrow that lay hidden under 
those dreaming woods2 was it all thus8  
,and then he thought of the great armies
 that were so near1 and of all the death
 they meant to deal each other4 ,and yet
 ,god sat throned aloft watching all    
things1 he thought1 with a calm and     
quiet eye1 waiting1 waiting4 ,but for   
what8 ,was ,his heart indeed pitiful and
 loving1 as ,his priests said8 and did  
,he hold in ,his hand1 for those that   
passed into the forgetful gate1 some    
secret of joyful peace that would all in
 a moment make amends8  ,he stopped     
beside a little stile--there1 in front  
of him1 over the tops of an orchard1 the
 trees of which were all laden with     
white and rosy flowers1 lay a small     
high-shouldered church1 with a low      

steeple of wood4 ,the little windows of 
the tower seemed to regard him as with  
dark sad eyes4 ,he went by a path along 
the orchard edge1 and entered the       
churchyard1 full of old graves1 among   
which grew long tumbled grass4 ,he      
thought with a throb1 that was almost of
 joy1 of all those that had laid down   
their weary bones there in the dust1    
husband by wife1 child by mother4 ,they 
were waiting too1 and how quietly6 ,it  
was all over for them1 the trouble and  
the joy alike2 and for a moment the     
death that all dread seemed to him like 
a simple and natural thing1 the one     
thing certain4 ,there at length they    
slept1 a quiet sleep1 waiting for the   
dawn1 if dawn there were4  ,he crossed  
the churchyard and entered the church2  
the coolness and the dark and the       
ancient holy smell was sweet after the  
brightness and the heat outside4 ,every 
line of the place was familiar to him   
from his childhood4 ,he walked slowly up
 the little aisle and passed within the 

screen4 ,the chancel was very dark1 only
 lighted by two or three deep-set       
windows4 ,he made a reverence and then  
drew near to the altar4  ,all the       
furniture of the church was most simple 
and old2 but over the altar there was a 
long unusual-looking shelf2 he went up  
to it1 and stood for awhile gazing upon 
it4 ,along the shelf lay a rude and     
ancient sword of a simple design1 in a  
painted scabbard of wood2 and over it   
was a board with a legend painted on it4
  ,the legend was in an old form of     
,french words1 long since disused in the
 land4 ,but it said3  ,unsheathe me and 
die thyself1 but the battle shall be    
stayed4  ,he had known the look of the  
sword1 and the words on the board from a
 child4 ,the tale was that there had    
been in days long past a great battle on
 the hill1 and that the general of one  
of the armies had been told1 in a dream 
or vision1 that if he should himself be 
slain1 then should his men have the     
victory2 but that if he lived through   

the battle1 then should his men be      
worsted4 ,now before the armies met1    
while they stood and looked upon each   
other1 the general1 so said the tale1   
had gone out suddenly and alone1 with   
his sword bare in his hand1 and his head
 uncovered2 and that as he advanced1 one
 of his foes had drawn a bow and pierced
 him through the brain1 so that he fell 
in his blood between the armies2 and    
that then a kind of fury had fallen upon
 his men to avenge his death1 and they  
routed the foe with a mighty slaughter4 
,but the sword had been set in the      
church with this legend above it2 and   
there it had lain many a year4  ,so ,sir
 ,henry disengaged the sword from its   
place very tenderly and carefully4 ,it  
had been there so long that it was all  
covered with dust2 and then1 holding it 
in his hands1 he knelt down and made a  
prayer in his heart that he might have  
strength for what he had a mind to do2  
and then he walked softly down the      
church1 looking about him with a sort of

 secret tenderness1 as though he were   
bidding it all farewell2 his own father 
and mother were buried in the church2   
and he stopped for awhile beside their  
grave1 and then1 holding the sword by   
his side--for he wished it not to be    
seen of any--he went back to his house1 
and put the sword away in a great chest1
 that no one might know where it was    
laid4  ,then he tarried not1 but went   
softly out2 and all that afternoon he   
walked about his own lands1 every acre  
of them2 for he did not think to see    
them again2 and his mind went back to   
the old days2 he had not thought that   
all could be so full of little memories4
 ,in this place he remembered being set 
on a horse by his father1 who held him  
very lovingly and safely while he led   
the great beast about2 he remembered how
 proud he had been1 and how he had      
fancied himself a mighty warrior4 ,on   
this little pond1 with all its reeds and
 waterlilies1 he had sailed a boat on a 
summer day1 his mother sitting near     

under a tree to see that he had no      
danger2 and thus it was everywhere2     
till1 as he walked in the silent        
afternoon1 he could almost have believed
 that there were others that walked with
 him unseen1 to left and right2 for at  
every place some little memory roused   
itself1 as the flies that rise buzzing  
from the leaves when you walk in an     
alley1 until he felt like a child again1
 with all the years before him4  ,then  
he came to the house again1 and did the 
same for every room4 ,he left one room  
for the last1 a room where dwelt an old 
and simple woman that had nursed him2   
she was very frail and aged now1 and    
went not much abroad1 but sate and did  
little businesses2 and it was ever a    
delight to her if he asked her to do    
some small task for him4 ,he found her  
sitting1 smiling for pleasure that he   
should come to her thus2 and he kissed  
her1 and sate beside her for awhile1 and
 they talked a little of the childish   
days1 for he was still ever a child to  

her4 ,then he rose to leave her1 and she
 asked him1 as was her wont1 if there   
was anything that she could do for him1 
for it shamed her1 she said1 to sit and 
idle1 when she had been so busy once1   
and when there was still so much to do4 
,and he said1 ,no1 dear nurse1 there is 
nothing at this time4 ,and he hesitated 
for an instant1 and then said1 ,there is
 indeed one thing2 ,i have a business to
 do to-night1 that is hard and          
difficult2 and ,i do not know what the  
end will be2 will you say a prayer for  
your boy to-night1 that he may be       
strong8 ,she looked at him quickly and  
was silent2 and then she said1 ,yes1    
dear child1 but ,i ever do that--and ,i 
have no skill to make new prayers--but  
,i will say my prayer over and over if  
that will avail4 ,and he said1 smiling  
at her1 though the tears were in his    
eyes1 ,yes1 it will avail1 and so he    
kissed her and went away1 while she fell
 to her prayers4  ,now the day had all  
this while grown stiller and hotter1    

till there was not a breath stirring2   
and now out to the eastwards there came 
on an angry blackness in the sky1 with a
 pale redness beneath it1 where the     
thunder dwelt4 ,sir ,henry sate down1   
for he was weary of his walking1 and in 
a little he fell asleep2 his thoughts   
still ran upon the sword1 for he dreamed
 that he had it with him in a wood that 
he knew not1 that was dark with the     
shade of leaves2 and he hung the sword  
upon a tree1 and went on1 to win out of 
the wood if he could1 for it seemed very
 close and heavy in the forest2         
sometimes through the trees he saw a    
space of open ground1 with ferns        
glistening in the sun2 but he could not 
find the end of the wood2 so he came    
back in his dream to where he had left  
the sword2 and while he stood watching  
it1 he saw that something dark gathered 
at the scabbard end1 and presently fell 
with a little sound among the leaves4   
,then with a shock of terror he saw that
 it was blood2 and he feared to take the

 sword back2 but looking downwards he   
perceived that where the blood had      
fallen1 there were red flowers growing  
among the leaves of a rare beauty1 which
 seemed to be born of the blood4 ,so he 
gathered a handful1 and wreathed the    
sword with them2 and then came a        
gladness into his mind1 with which he   
awoke1 and found it evening2 he came    
back to himself with a kind of terror1  
and a fear darted into his breast2 the  
windows were open1 and there came in a  
scent of flowers2 and he felt a great   
love for the beautiful earth1 and for   
his quiet life2 and he looked at the    
chest2 and there came into his mind a   
strong desire to take the sword out1 and
 lay it back in the church1 and let     
things be as they had been2 and so he   
sate and mused4  ,presently his old     
serving-man came in and told him he had 
set his supper2 so ,henry went into the 
parlour1 and made some pretence to be   
about to eat2 sending the old man away1 
who babbled a little to him of the war1 

of the barons' army that drew nearer1   
and of how the king was sore bested4    
,when he was gone ,sir ,henry ate a     
little bread and drank a sup of wine2   
and then he rose up1 like one who had   
made up his mind4 ,he went to the chest 
and drew out the sword2 and then he went
 softly out of the house1 and presently 
walking swiftly he came out on the down4
  ,it was now nearly dusk2 the sky lay  
clear and still1 fading into a sort of  
delicate green1 but all the west was    
shrouded in a dim blackness1 the cloud  
being spread out1 like a great dark bird
 winging its way slowly up the sky4     
,then far down in the west there leapt1 
as it were1 interlacing streams of fire 
out of the cloud1 and then followed a   
low rolling of thunder4  ,but all the   
while he mounted the down1 up a little  
track that gleamed white in the grass2  
and now he could see the huge plain1    
with a few lights twinkling out of      
farms2 far down to the west there was a 
little redness of light1 and he thought 

that this was doubtless where the army  
of the barons lay2 but he seemed to     
himself to have neither wonder nor fear 
left in his mind2 he only went like one 
that had a task to perform2 and soon he 
came to the top4  ,here all was bare1   
save for some bushes of furze that grew 
blackly in the gloom2 he stepped through
 them1 and he came at last to where a   
great mound stood1 that was held to be  
the highest place in all the down1 a    
mound that marked the place of a battle1
 or that was perhaps the burying-place  
of some old tribe--for it was called the
 ,barrow of the ,seven ,kings4  ,he came
 quickly to the mound1 and went to the  
top2 and then he laid the sword upon the
 turf by him1 and kneeled down2 once    
again came a great outpouring of fire   
from heaven in the west1 and a peal of  
thunder followed hard upon it2 and      
indeed the storm was near at hand2 he   
could see the great wings of the cloud  
moving now1 and a few large drops       
splashed in the grass about him1 and one

 fell upon his brow4  ,and now a great  
fear fell upon ,henry of he knew not    
what4 ,he seemed to himself to be in the
 presence of some vast and fearful      
thing1 that was passing swiftly by2 and 
yet seemed1 for all its haste1 to have  
espied him1 and to have been1 as it     
were1 stayed by him2 there came into his
 mind a recollection of how he had once1
 on a summer's day1 joined the mowers in
 one of the fields1 and had mowed a few 
swathes with them for the pleasure of   
seeing the rich seeded grass fall before
 the gleaming scythe4 ,at one of his    
strokes1 he remembered1 he had uncovered
 a little field-mouse1 that sate in the 
naked field1 its high covert having been
 swept bare from above it1 and watched  
him with bright eyes of fear1 while he  
debated whether he should crush it2 he  
had done so1 he remembered1 carelessly1 
with his foot1 and now he wished that he
 had spared it1 for it was even so that 
he himself felt4  ,so to strengthen     
himself in his purpose1 he made a prayer

 aloud1 though it was a thing that in   
his idle life he had much foregone2 and 
he said3  ,lord ,god1 if ,thou indeed   
hearest and seest me1 make me strong to 
do what ,i have a mind to do2 ,i have   
lived foolishly and for myself1 and ,i  
have little to give4 ,i have despised   
life1 and it is as an empty husk to me4 
,i have put love away from me1 and my   
heart is dry2 ,i have had friends and ,i
 have wearied of them4 ,i have profited 
nothing2 ,i have wasted my strength in  
foolish dreams of pleasure1 and ,i have 
not found it4 ,i am as a weed that      
cumbers the fair earth4  ,then he stayed
 for a moment1 for he was afraid2 for it
 seemed to him as though somewhat stood 
near to listen4 ,then he said again3--  
,but1 ,lord1 ,i do indeed love my fellow
 men a little2 and ,i would have the    
waste of life stayed4 ,it is a pitiful  
thing that ,i have to offer1 but it is  
all that ,i have left--an empty life1   
which yet ,i love4 ,i will not promise1 
,lord1 to yield my life to the service  

of men1 for ,i love my ease too well1   
and ,i should not keep my word--so ,i   
offer my life freely into ,thy hand1 and
 let it avail that which it may avail4  
,then the blackness seemed to gather all
 about him1 and he felt with his hand in
 the turf and found the sword2 then he  
drew the scabbard off1 and flung it down
 beside him1 and he raised the sword in 
his hands4  ,then it seemed as though   
the heavens opened above him1 but he saw
 not the fire1 nor heard the shouting of
 the thunder that followed2 he fell on  
his face in the turf without a sound and
 moved no more4  ,now it happened that  
about the time that he unsheathed the   
sword1 it came into the heart of the    
king to send a herald to the barons2 for
 he saw the host spread out below him on
 the plain1 and he feared to meet them2 
and the barons1 too1 were weary of      
fighting2 and the king bound himself by 
a great oath to uphold the law of the   
realm1 and so the land had peace4  ,the 
next day came a troop of men-at-arms    

along the hill2 and they wondered       
exceedingly to see a man lie on the     
mound with a sword in his hand          
unsheathed1 and partly molten4 ,he lay  
stiff and cold1 but they could not tell 
how he came by his death1 and they knew 
not what he had done for the land2 his  
hand was so tightly clenched upon the   
sword1 that they took it not out1 but   
they buried him there upon the hill-top1
 very near the sky1 and passed on2 and  
no man knew what had become of him4 ,but
 ,god1 who made him and had need of him1
 knoweth4            99       99        
99       99       99     ,renatus       
,renatus was a ,prince of ,saxony that  
was but newly come to his princedom2 his
 father had died while he was a boy1 and
 the realm had been administered by his 
father's brother1 a ,duke of high       
courage and prudence4 ,the ,duke was    
deeply anxious for the fate of the      
princedom and his nephew's fortunes1 for
 they lived in troubled times2 the      
,barons of the province were strong and 

haughty men1 with little care for the   
,prince1 and no thought of obedience2   
each of them lived in his castle1 upon a
 small realm of his own2 the people were
 much discontented with the rule of the 
,barons1 and the ,duke saw plainly      
enough that if a prince could arise who 
could win the confidence of the people1 
the ,barons would have but little power 
left4 ,thus his care was so to bring up 
the ,prince ,renatus that he should     
understand how hard a task was before   
him2 but the boy1 though quick of       
apprehension1 was fond of pleasure and  
amusement1 and soon wearied of grave    
instructions2 so the ,duke did not      
persist overmuch1 but strove to make the
 little ,prince love him and confide in 
him1 hoping that1 when the day of trial 
came1 he might be apt to ask advice     
rather than act hastily and perhaps     
foolishly2 but yet in this the ,duke had
 not perfectly succeeded1 as he was by  
nature grave and austere1 and even his  
face seemed to have in it a sort of     

rebuke for lively and light-minded      
persons4 ,still the ,prince1 though he  
was not at ease with the ,duke1 trusted 
him exceedingly1 and thought him wise   
and good1 even more than the ,duke      
imagined4  ,the days had been full of   
feasting and pageants1 and ,renatus was 
greatly excited and eager at finding    
himself in so great a place4 ,he had    
borne himself with much courtesy and    
dignity in his receiving of embassies   
and such compliments2 he had1 too1      
besides the sweet gifts of youth and    
beauty1 a natural affectionateness1     
which led him to wish to please those   
about him2 and the ,duke's heart was    
full of love and admiration for the     
graceful boy1 though there lay in the   
back of his mind a shadow of fear2 and  
this grew very dark when he saw two of  
the most turbulent ,barons speaking     
together in a corner1 with sidelong     
glances at the ,prince1 at one of the   
,court assemblies1 and divined that they
 thought the boy would be but a pretty  

puppet in their hands4  ,the custom was 
that the ,prince1 on the eve of his     
enthroning1 should watch for two hours  
alone in the chapel of the castle1 from 
eleven to one at night1 and should there
 consecrate himself to ,god2 the guests 
of the evening were departed2 and a few 
minutes before eleven the ,duke sate    
with the ,prince in a little room off   
the chapel1 waiting till it was time for
 the ,prince to enter the building4     
,renatus was in armour1 as the custom   
was1 with a white robe over all4 ,he    
sate restlessly in a chair1 and there   
was a mischievous and dancing light of  
pleasure in his eye1 that made the ,duke
 doubly grave4 ,the ,duke1 after some   
discourse of other matters1 made a      
pause2 and then1 saying that it was the 
last time that he should take the       
privilege of guardianship--to offer     
advice unless it were sought--said3 ,and
 now1 ,renatus1 you know that ,i love   
you as a dear son2 and ,i would have you
 remember that all these things are but 

shows1 and that there sits behind them a
 grave and holy presence of duty2 these 
pomps are but the signs that you are    
truly the ,prince of this land2 and you 
must use your power well1 and to ,god's 
glory2 for it is ,he that makes us to be
 what we are1 and truly calls us        
thereto4 ,renatus heard him with a sort 
of courteous impatience1 and then1 with 
a smile1 said3 ,yes1 dear uncle1 ,i know
 it2 but the shows are very brave2 and  
you will forgive me if my head is full  
of them just now4 ,presently1 when the  
pageants are all over1 ,i shall settle  
down to be a sober prince enough4 ,i    
think you do not trust me wholly in the 
matter--but ,i would not seem           
ungrateful1 he added rather hastily1    
seeing the gravity in the ,duke's       
face--for indeed you have been as a true
 father to me4  ,the ,duke said no more 
at that time1 for he cared not to give  
untimely advice1 and a moment after1 a  
bell began to toll in the silence1 and  
the chaplain came habited to conduct the

 ,prince to his chapel4 ,so they went   
the three of them together4  ,it was    
dark and still within the church2 in    
front of the altar-steps were set a     
faldstool and a chair1 where the ,duke  
might pray1 or sit if he were weary2 two
 tall wax lights stood beside1 and lit  
up the crimson cloth and the gold       
fringes1 so that it seemed like a rare  
flower blossoming in the dark4 ,a single
 light1 in a silver lamp hung by a      
silver chain1 burnt before the altar2   
all else was dim2 but they could see the
 dark stalls of the choir1 with their   
carven canopies1 over which hung the    
banners of old knights1 that moved      
softly to and fro2 beyond were the      
pillars of the aisles1 glimmering       
faintly in a row4 ,the roof and windows 
were dark1 save where here and there a  
rib of stone or a tracery stood out very
 rich and dim4 ,all about there was a   
kind of holy smell1 of wood and carven  
stone and incense-smoke4  ,the chaplain 
knelt beneath the altar2 and the ,prince

 knelt down at the faldstool1 the ,duke 
beside him on the floor4 ,and just as   
the old bell of the castle tolled the   
hour1 and died away in a soft hum of    
sound1 as sweet as honey1 the chaplain  
said an ancient prayer1 the purport of  
which was that the ,christian must watch
 and pray2 that only the pure heart     
might see ,god2 and asking that the     
,prince might be blest with wisdom1 as  
the ,emperor ,solomon was1 to do        
according to the will of the ,father4   
,then the chaplain and the ,duke        
withdrew2 but as the ,duke rose up1 he  
laid his hand on the ,prince's head and 
said1 ,god be with you1 dear son1 and   
open your eyes4 ,and ,renatus looked up 
at him and smiled4  ,then the ,duke went
 back to the little room1 and prayed    
abundantly4 ,it was arranged that he    
should wait there until the ,prince's   
vigil was over1 when he would go to     
attend him forth2 and so the ,prince was
 left by himself4  ,for a time ,renatus 
prayed1 gathering up the strength of his

 mind to pray earnestly2 but other      
thoughts kept creeping in1 like children
 peeping and beckoning from a door4 ,so 
he rose up after a little1 and looked   
about him2 and something of the         
solemnity of the night and the place    
came into his mind4  ,then1 after a     
while1 he sate1 his armour clinking     
lightly as he moved2 and wrapping his   
robe about him--for it grew chill in the
 church--he thought of what had been and
 what should be4 ,the time flew fast2   
and presently ,renatus heard the great  
bell ring the hour of midnight2 so he   
knelt and prayed again1 with all his    
might1 that ,god would bless him and    
open his eyes4  ,then he rose again to  
his feet2 and now the moon was risen and
 made a very pure and tender radiance   
through one of the high windows2 and    
,renatus looking about him1 was         
conscious of a thrill of fear that      
passed through him1 as though there were
 some great presence near him in the    
gloom2 then his eyes fell on a little   

door on his right1 opposite to the door 
by which they had entered1 which he knew
 led out into the castle court2 but     
underneath the door1 between it and the 
sill1 there gleamed a line of very      
golden light1 such as might come from a 
fire without4 ,the ,prince had no       
foolish terrors1 as he was by nature    
courageous1 and the holy place that he  
was in made him feel secure4 ,but the   
light1 which now began to grow in       
clearness1 and to stream1 like a        
rippling flow of brightness1 into the   
church1 surprised him exceedingly4 ,so  
he rose up and went to the little door1 
expecting that he would find it closed2 
but it opened to his hand4  ,he had     
thought to see the dark court of the    
castle as he had often seen it1 with its
 tall chimneys and battlements1 and with
 lights in the windows4 ,but to his     
amazement he saw that he was on the edge
 of a vast and dizzy space1 so vast that
 he had not thought there could be      
anything in the world so great4 ,the    

church and he seemed to float together  
in the space1 for the solid earth was   
all gone--and it came into his head that
 the great building in which he stood1  
so fair and high1 was no larger than a  
mote that swims in the strong beams of  
the sun4 ,the space was all misty and   
dim at first1 but over it hung a light  
like the light of dawn1 that seemed to  
gush from a place in the cloud1 near at 
hand and yet leagues away4 ,then as his 
sight became more used to the place1 he 
saw that it was all sloping upwards and 
downwards1 and built up of great steps  
or stairs1 that ran across the space and
 were lost at last in cloud2 and that   
the light came from the head of the     
steps4 ,then with a sudden shock of     
surprise he saw that there were persons 
kneeling on the steps2 and every moment 
his sight became clearer and clearer1 so
 that he could see the persons nearest  
to him1 their robes and hands1 and even 
the very lineaments of their faces4     
,very near him there were three figures 

kneeling1 not together in a group1 but  
with some space between them4 ,and1 in  
some way that he could not explain1 he  
felt that all the three were unconscious
 both of each other and of himself4     
,looking intently upon them1 he saw that
 they were kings1 in royal robes4 ,the  
nearest to him was an ancient man1 with 
white hair2 he knelt very upright and   
strong2 his face was like parchment1    
with heavy lines1 but his eyes glowed   
like a fire4 ,renatus thought he had    
never seen so proud a look4 ,he had an  
air of command1 and ,renatus seemed to  
know that he had been a warrior in his  
youth4 ,in his hands he held a crown of 
fine golden work1 filled with jewels of 
great rarity and price2 and the king    
held the crown as though he knew its    
worth2 he seemed1 as it were1 to be     
proffering it1 but as a gift of mighty  
value1 the worthiest thing that he had  
to offer4  ,on a step below him at a    
little distance knelt the second2 he was
 a younger man1 in the prime of life2 he

 had the look more of a student than a  
warrior1 of one who was busied in many  
affairs1 and who pondered earnestly over
 high matters of policy and state4 ,he  
had a wiser face than the older man1 but
 his brow was drawn by lines1 as though 
he had often doubted of himself and     
others2 and he had a crown in one hand1 
which he held a little irresolutely1 as 
though he half loved it1 and were yet   
half wearied of it2 as though he was    
fain to lay it down1 and yet not wholly 
glad to part with it4  ,then ,renatus   
turned a little to the third2 and he was
 more richly apparelled than the others2
 his hands were clasped in prayer2 and  
by his knee there lay a splendid diadem1
 an ,emperor's crown1 with few jewels1  
but each the price of a kingdom4 ,and   
,renatus saw that he was very young1    
scarce older than himself2 and that he  
had the most beautiful face he had ever 
seen1 with large soft eyes1 clear-cut   
features1 and a mouth that looked both  
pure and strong2 but in his face there  

was such a passion of holiness and      
surrender1 that ,renatus fell to        
wondering what it was that a man could  
so adore4 ,he was the only one of the   
three who looked1 as it were1 rapt out  
of himself2 and the crown lay beside him
 as if he had forgotten its very        
existence4  ,then there came upon the   
air a great sound of jubilant and tender
 music like the voice of silver         
trumpets--and the cloud began to lift   
and draw up on every side1 and revealed 
at last1 very far off and very high1 yet
 strangely near and clear1 a ,throne at 
the head of the steps4 ,but ,renatus    
dared not look thereon1 for he felt that
 the time was not come2 but he saw1 as  
it were reflected in the eyes of the    
kings1 that they looked upon a sight of 
awful splendour and mystery4 ,then he   
saw that the two that still held their  
crowns laid them down upon the ground   
with a sort of fearful haste1 as though 
they were constrained2 but the youngest 
of the kings smiled1 as though he were  

satisfied beyond his dearest wish4      
,then ,renatus felt that somewhat was to
 be done too bright and holy for a      
mortal eye to behold1 and so he drew    
back and softly closed the door2 and it 
was a pain to find himself within the   
dark church again2 it was as though he  
had lost the sight of something that a  
man might desire above all things to    
see--but he dared look no longer2 and   
the music came again1 but this time more
 urgently1 in a storm of sound4  ,then  
,renatus went back to his place1 that   
seemed to him very small and humble     
beside what he had seen outside4 ,and   
all the pride was emptied out of his    
heart1 for he knew that he had looked   
upon the truth1 and that it was wider   
than he had dreamed2 and then he knelt  
and prayed that ,god would keep him     
humble and diligent and brave2 but then 
he grew ashamed of his prayer1 for he   
remembered that1 after all1 he was but  
still praying for himself2 and he had a 
thought of the young ,emperor's face1   

and he knew that there was something    
deeper and better still than humility   
and diligence and courage2 what it was  
he knew not2 but he thought that he had 
been1 as it were1 asking ,god for those 
fair things1 like flower-blooms or      
jewels1 which a man may wear for his own
 pride2 but that they must rather rise  
and blossom1 like plants out of a rich  
soil4 ,so he ended by praying that ,god 
would empty him of all unworthy         
thoughts1 and fill him full of that good
 and great thing1 which1 in the ,gospel 
story1 ,martha went near to miss1 but   
,mary certainly divined4  ,that was a   
blessed hour1 to the thought of which   
,renatus afterwards often turned in     
darker and more weary days4 ,but it drew
 swiftly to an end1 and as he knelt1 the
 bell beat one1 and his vigil was over4 
,presently the ,duke came to attend him 
back2 and ,renatus could not speak of   
the vision1 but only told the ,duke that
 he had seen a wonderful thing1 and he  
added a few words of grateful love1     

holding the ,duke's hand close in his   
own4  ,on the next day1 before ,renatus 
came to be enthroned1 the ,barons came  
to do him homage2 and ,renatus1 asking  
,god to give him words that he might say
 what was in his heart1 spoke to them1  
the ,duke standing by2 he said that he  
well knew that it appeared strange that 
one so young as himself should receive  
the homage of those who were older and  
wiser and more strong1 adding3 ,but ,i  
believe that ,i am truly called1 under  
,god1 to rule this land for the welfare 
of all that dwell therein1 and ,i will  
rule it with diligence4 ,nay--for it is 
not well that a land should have many   
masters--,i purpose that none shall rule
 it but myself1 under ,god4 ,and at that
 the ,barons looked upon one another1   
but ,renatus1 leaning a little forward1 
with his hand upon his sword-hilt1 said3
 ,i think1 my ,lords1 that there be some
 here that are saying to themselves1 ,he
 hath learnt his lesson well1 and ,i    
hope that it may be seen that it is     

so--but it is ,god and not man who hath 
put it into my heart to say this2 it is 
from ,him that ,i receive this throne4  
,counsel will ,i ask1 and that gladly2  
but remembering the account that ,i must
 one day make1 ,i will rule this realm  
for the welfare of the people thereof1  
and ,i will have all men do their parts2
 so see that your homage be of the heart
 and not of the lips1 for it is to ,god 
that you make it1 and not to me1 who am 
indeed unworthy2 but ,he that hath set  
me in this place will strengthen my     
hands4 ,i have spoken this1 he said1 not
 willingly2 but ,i would have no one    
mistake my purpose in the matter4  ,then
 the ,barons came silently to do        
obeisance2 and so ,renatus came to his  
own2 but more of him ,i must not here   
say1 save that he ruled his realm wisely
 and well1 and ever gave ,god the glory4
            99       99       99        
99       99     ,the ,slype ,house      
,in the town of ,garchester1 close to   
,st4 ,peter's ,church1 and near the     

river1 stood a dark old house called the
 ,slype ,house1 from a narrow passage of
 that name that ran close to it1 down to
 a bridge over the stream4 ,the house   
showed a front of mouldering and        
discoloured stone to the street1 pierced
 by small windows1 like a monastery2 and
 indeed1 it was formerly inhabited by a 
college of priests who had served the   
,church4 ,it abutted at one angle upon  
the aisle of the church1 and there was a
 casement window that looked out from a 
room in the house1 formerly the         
infirmary1 into the aisle2 it had been  
so built that any priest that was sick  
might hear the ,mass from his bed1      
without descending into the church4     
,behind the house lay a little garden1  
closely grown up with trees and tall    
weeds1 that ran down to the stream4 ,in 
the wall that gave on the water1 was a  
small door that admitted to an old      
timbered bridge that crossed the stream1
 and had a barred gate on the further   
side1 which was rarely seen open2 though

 if a man had watched attentively he    
might sometimes have seen a small lean  
person1 much bowed and with a halting   
gait1 slip out very quietly about dusk1 
and walk1 with his eyes cast down1 among
 the shadowy byways4  ,the name of the  
man who thus dwelt in the ,slype ,house1
 as it appeared in the roll of          
burgesses1 was ,anthony ,purvis4 ,he was
 of an ancient family1 and had inherited
 wealth4 ,a word must be said of his    
childhood and youth4 ,he was a sickly   
child1 an only son1 his father a man of 
substance1 who lived very easily in the 
country2 his mother had died when he was
 quite a child1 and this sorrow had been
 borne very heavily by his father1 who  
had loved her tenderly1 and after her   
death had become morose and sullen1     
withdrawing himself from all company and
 exercise1 and brooding angrily over his
 loss1 as though ,god had determined to 
vex him4 ,he had never cared much for   
the child1 who had been peevish and     
fretful2 and the boy's presence had done

 little but remind him of the wife he   
had lost2 so that the child had lived   
alone1 nourishing his own fancies1 and  
reading much in a library of curious    
books that was in the house4 ,the boy's 
health had been too tender for him to go
 to school2 but when he was eighteen1 he
 seemed stronger1 and his father sent   
him to a university1 more for the sake  
of being relieved of the boy's presence 
than for his good4 ,and there1 being    
unused to the society of his equals1 he 
had been much flouted and despised for  
his feeble frame2 till a certain bitter 
ambition sprang up in his mind1 like a  
poisonous flower1 to gain power and make
 himself a name2 and he had determined  
that as he could not be loved he might  
still be feared2 so he bided his time in
 bitterness1 making great progress in   
his studies2 then1 when those days were 
over1 he departed eagerly1 and sought   
and obtained his father's leave to      
betake himself to a university of       
,italy1 where he fell into somewhat evil

 hands2 for he made a friendship with an
 old doctor of the college1 who feared  
not ,god and thought ill of man1 and    
spent all his time in dark researches   
into the evil secrets of nature1 the    
study of poisons that have enmity to the
 life of man1 and many other hidden     
works of darkness1 such as intercourse  
with spirits of evil1 and the black     
influences that lie in wait for the     
soul2 and he found ,anthony an apt      
pupil4 ,there he lived for some years   
till he was nearly thirty1 seldom       
visiting his home1 and writing but      
formal letters to his father1 who       
supplied him gladly with a small        
revenue1 so long as he kept apart and   
troubled him not4  ,then his father had 
died1 and ,anthony came home to take up 
his inheritance1 which was a plentiful  
one2 he sold his land1 and visiting the 
town of ,garchester1 by chance1 for it  
lay near his home1 he had lighted upon  
the ,slype ,house1 which lay very       
desolate and gloomy2 and as he needed a 

large place for his instruments and     
devices1 he had bought the house1 and   
had now lived there for twenty years in 
great loneliness1 but not ill-content4  
,to serve him he had none but a man and 
his wife1 who were quiet and simple     
people and asked no questions2 the wife 
cooked his meals1 and kept the rooms1   
where he slept and read1 clean and neat2
 the man moved his machines for him1 and
 arranged his phials and instruments1   
having a light touch and a serviceable  
memory4  ,the door of the house that    
gave on the street opened into a hall2  
to the right was a kitchen1 and a pair  
of rooms where the man and his wife     
lived4 ,on the left was a large room    
running through the house2 the windows  
on to the street were walled up1 and the
 windows at the back looked--on the     
garden1 the trees of which grew close to
 the casements1 making the room dark1   
and in a breeze rustling their leaves or
 leafless branches against the panes4   
,in this room ,anthony had a furnace    

with bellows1 the smoke of which        
discharged itself into the chimney2 and 
here he did much of his work1 making    
mechanical toys1 as a clock to measure  
the speed of wind or water1 a little    
chariot that ran a few yards by itself1 
a puppet that moved its arms and        
laughed--and other things that had wiled
 away his idle hours2 the room was      
filled up with dark lumber1 in a sort of
 order that would have looked to a      
stranger like disorder1 but so that     
,anthony could lay his hand on all that 
he needed4 ,from the hall1 which was    
paved with stone1 went up the stairs1   
very strong and broad1 of massive oak2  
under which was a postern that gave on  
the garden2 on the floor above was a    
room where ,anthony slept1 which again  
had its windows to the street boarded   
up1 for he was a light sleeper1 and the 
morning sounds of the awakening city    
disturbed him4  ,the room was hung with 
a dark arras1 sprinkled with red        
flowers2 he slept in a great bed with   

black curtains to shut out all light2   
the windows looked into the garden2 but 
on the left of the bed1 which stood with
 its head to the street1 was an alcove1 
behind the hangings1 containing the     
window that gave on the church4 ,on the 
same floor were three other rooms2 in   
one of these1 looking on the garden1    
,anthony had his meals4 ,it was a plain 
panelled room4 ,next was a room where he
 read1 filled with books1 also looking  
on the garden2 and next to that was a   
little room of which he alone had the   
key4 ,this room he kept locked1 and no  
one set foot in it but himself4 ,there  
was one more room on this floor1 set    
apart for a guest who never came1 with a
 great bed and a press of oak4 ,and that
 looked on the street4 ,above1 there was
 a row of plain plastered rooms1 in     
which stood furniture for which ,anthony
 had no use1 and many crates in which   
his machines and phials came to him2    
this floor was seldom visited1 except by
 the man1 who sometimes came to put a   

box there2 and the spiders had it to    
themselves2 except for a little room    
where stood an optic glass through which
 on clear nights ,anthony sometimes     
looked at the moon and stars1 if there  
was any odd misadventure among them1    
such as an eclipse2 or when a           
fiery-tailed comet went his way silently
 in the heavens1 coming from none might 
say whence and going none knew whither1 
on some strange errand of ,god4         
,anthony had but two friends who ever   
came to see him4 ,one was an old        
physician who had ceased to practise his
 trade1 which indeed was never abundant1
 and who would sometimes drink a glass  
of wine with ,anthony1 and engage in    
curious talk of men's bodies and        
diseases1 or look at one of ,anthony's  
toys4 ,anthony had come to know him by  
having called him in to cure some       
ailment1 which needed a surgical knife2 
and that had made a kind of friendship  
between them2 but ,anthony had little   
need thereafter to consult him about his

 health1 which indeed was now settled   
enough1 though he had but little vigour2
 and he knew enough of drugs to cure    
himself when he was ill4 ,the other     
friend was a foolish priest of the      
college1 that made belief to be a       
student but was none1 who thought       
,anthony a very wise and mighty person1 
and listened with open mouth and eyes to
 all that he said or showed him4 ,this  
priest1 who was fond of wonders1 had    
introduced himself to ,anthony by making
 believe to borrow a volume of him2 and 
then had grown proud of the             
acquaintance1 and bragged greatly of it 
to his friends1 mixing up much that was 
fanciful with a little that was true4   
,but the result was that gossip spread  
wide about ,anthony1 and he was held in 
the town to be a very fearful person1   
who could do strange mischief if he had 
a mind to2 ,anthony never cared to walk 
abroad1 for he was of a shy habit1 and  
disliked to meet the eyes of his        
fellows2 but if he did go about1 men    

began to look curiously after him as he 
went by1 shook their heads and talked   
together with a dark pleasure1 while    
children fled before his face and women 
feared him2 all of which pleased        
,anthony mightily1 if the truth were    
told2 for at the bottom of his restless 
and eager spirit lay a deep vanity      
unseen1 like a lake in woods2 he        
hungered not indeed for fame1 but for   
repute--monstrari digito1 as the poet   
has it2 and he cared little in what     
repute he was held1 so long as men      
thought him great and marvellous2 and as
 he could not win renown by brave deeds 
and words1 he was rejoiced to win it by 
keeping up a certain darkness and       
mystery about his ways and doings2 and  
this was very dear to him1 so that when 
the silly priest called him ,seer and   
,wizard1 he frowned and looked sideways2
 but he laughed in his heart and was    
glad4  ,now1 when ,anthony was near his 
fiftieth year1 there fell on him a      
heaviness of spirit which daily         

increased upon him4 ,he began to        
question of his end and what lay beyond4
 ,he had always made pretence to mock at
 religion1 and had grown to believe that
 in death the soul was extinguished like
 a burnt-out flame4 ,he began1 too1 to  
question of his life and what he had    
done4 ,he had made a few toys1 he had   
filled vacant hours1 and he had gained  
an ugly kind of fame--and this was all4 
,was he so certain1 he began to think1  
after all1 that death was the end8 ,were
 there not1 perhaps1 in the vast house  
of ,god1 rooms and chambers beyond that 
in which he was set for awhile to pace  
to and fro8 ,about this time he began to
 read in a ,bible that had lain dusty   
and unopened on a shelf4 ,it was his    
mother's book1 and he found therein many
 little tokens of her presence4 ,here   
was a verse underlined2 at some gracious
 passages the page was much fingered and
 worn2 in one place there were stains   
that looked like the mark of tears2 then
 again1 in one page1 there was a small  

tress of hair1 golden hair1 tied in a   
paper with a name across it1 that seemed
 to be the name of a little sister of   
his mother's that died a child2 and     
again there were a few withered flowers1
 like little sad ghosts1 stuck through a
 paper on which was written his father's
 name--the name of the sad1 harsh1      
silent man whom ,anthony had feared with
 all his heart4 ,had those two1 indeed1 
on some day of summer1 walked to and    
fro1 or sate in some woodland corner1   
whispering sweet words of love together8
 ,anthony felt a sudden hunger of the   
heart for a woman's love1 for tender    
words to soothe his sadness1 for the    
laughter and kisses of children--and he 
began to ransack his mind for memories  
of his mother2 he could remember being  
pressed to her heart one morning when   
she lay abed1 with her fragrant hair    
falling about him4 ,the worst was that  
he must bear his sorrow alone1 for there
 were none to whom he could talk of such
 things4 ,the doctor was as dry as an   

old bunch of herbs1 and as for the      
priest1 ,anthony was ashamed to show    
anything but contempt and pride in his  
presence4  ,for relief he began to turn 
to a branch of his studies that he had  
long disused2 this was a fearful        
commerce with the unseen spirits4       
,anthony could remember having practised
 some experiments of this kind with the 
old ,italian doctor2 but he remembered  
them with a kind of disgust1 for they   
seemed to him but a sort of deadly      
juggling2 and such dark things as he had
 seen seemed like a dangerous sport with
 unclean and coltish beings1 more       
brute-like than human4 ,yet now he read 
in his curious books with care1 and     
studied the tales of necromancers1 who  
had indeed seemed to have some power    
over the souls of men departed4 ,but the
 old books gave him but little faith1   
and a kind of angry disgust at the      
things attempted4 ,and he began to think
 that the horror in which such men as   
made these books abode1 was not more    

than the dark shadow cast on the mirror 
of the soul by their own desperate      
imaginings and timorous excursions4     
,one day1 a ,sunday1 he was strangely   
sad and heavy2 he could settle to       
nothing1 but threw book after book      
aside1 and when he turned to some work  
of construction1 his hand seemed to have
 lost its cunning4 ,it was a grey and   
sullen day in ,october2 a warm wet wind 
came buffeting up from the ,west1 and   
roared in the chimneys and eaves of the 
old house4 ,the shrubs in the garden    
plucked themselves hither and thither as
 though in pain4 ,anthony walked to and 
fro after his midday meal1 which he had 
eaten hastily and without savour2 at    
last1 as though with a sudden           
resolution1 he went to a secret cabinet 
and got out a key2 and with it he went  
to the door of the little room that was 
ever locked4  ,he stopped at the        
threshold for a while1 looking hither   
and thither2 and then he suddenly       
unlocked it and went in1 closing and    

locking it behind him4 ,the room was as 
dark as night1 but ,anthony going       
softly1 his hands before him1 went to a 
corner and got a tinder-box which lay   
there1 and made a flame4  ,a small dark 
room appeared1 hung with a black        
tapestry2 the window was heavily        
shuttered and curtained2 in the centre  
of the room stood what looked like a    
small altar1 painted black2 the floor   
was all bare1 but with white marks upon 
it1 half effaced4 ,anthony looked about 
the room1 glancing sidelong1 as though  
in some kind of doubt2 his breath went  
and came quickly1 and he looked paler   
than was his wont4  ,presently1 as      
though reassured by the silence and calm
 of the place1 he went to a tall press  
that stood in a corner1 which he opened1
 and took from it certain things--a dish
 of metal1 some small leathern bags1 a  
large lump of chalk1 and a book4 ,he    
laid all but the chalk down on the      
altar1 and then opening the book1 read  
in it a little2 and then he went with   

the chalk and drew certain marks upon   
the floor1 first making a circle1 which 
he went over again and again with       
anxious care2 at times he went back and 
peeped into the book as though          
uncertain4 ,then he opened the bags1    
which seemed to hold certain kinds of   
powder1 this dusty1 that in grains2 he  
ran them through his hands1 and then    
poured a little of each into his dish1  
and mixed them with his hands4 ,then he 
stopped and looked about him4 ,then he  
walked to a place in the wall on the    
further side of the altar from the door1
 and drew the arras carefully aside1    
disclosing a little alcove in the wall2 
into this he looked fearfully1 as though
 he was afraid of what he might see4    
,in the alcove1 which was all in black1 
appeared a small shelf1 that stood but a
 little way out from the wall4 ,upon it1
 gleaming very white against the black1 
stood the skull of a man1 and on either 
side of the skull were the bones of a   
man's hand4 ,it looked to him1 as he    

gazed on it with a sort of curious      
disgust1 as though a dead man had come  
up to the surface of a black tide1 and  
was preparing presently to leap out4 ,on
 either side stood two long silver      
candlesticks1 very dark with disuse2 but
 instead of holding candles1 they were  
fitted at the top with flat metal       
dishes2 and in these he poured some of  
his powders1 mixing them as before with 
his fingers4 ,between the candlesticks  
and behind the skull was an old and dark
 picture1 at which he gazed for a time1 
holding his taper on high4 ,the picture 
represented a man fleeing in a kind of  
furious haste from a wood1 his hands    
spread wide1 and his eyes staring out of
 the picture2 behind him everywhere was 
the wood1 above which was a star in the 
sky--and out of the wood leaned a       
strange pale horned thing1 very dim4    
,the horror in the man's face was       
skilfully painted1 and ,anthony felt a  
shudder pass through his veins4 ,he knew
 not what the picture meant2 it had been

 given to him by the old ,italian1 who  
had smiled a wicked smile when he gave  
it1 and told him that it had a very     
great virtue4 ,when ,anthony had asked  
him of the subject of the picture1 the  
old ,italian had said1 ,oh1 it is as    
appears2 he hath been where he ought    
not1 and he hath seen somewhat he doth  
not like4 ,when ,anthony would fain have
 known more1 and especially what the    
thing was that leaned out of the wood1  
the old ,italian had smiled cruelly and 
said1 ,know you not8 ,well1 you will    
know some day when you have seen him2   
and never a word more would he say4     
,when ,anthony had put all things in    
order1 he opened the book at a certain  
place1 and laid it upon the altar2 and  
then it seemed as though his courage    
failed him1 for he drew the curtain     
again over the alcove1 unlocked the     
door1 set the tinder-box and the candle 
back in their place1 and softly left the
 room4  ,he was very restless all the   
evening4 ,he took down books from the   

shelves1 turned them over1 and put them 
back again4 ,he addressed himself to    
some unfinished work1 but soon threw it 
aside2 he paced up and down1 and spent a
 long time1 with his hands clasped      
behind him1 looking out into the        
desolate garden1 where a still1 red     
sunset burnt behind the leafless trees4 
,he was like a man who has made up his  
mind to a grave decision1 and shrinks   
back upon the brink4 ,when his food was 
served he could hardly touch it1 and he 
drank no wine as his custom was to do1  
but only water1 saying to himself that  
his head must be clear4 ,but in the     
evening he went to his bedroom1 and     
searched for something in a press there2
 he found at last what he was searching 
for1 and unfolded a long black robe1    
looking gloomily upon it1 as though it  
aroused unwelcome thoughts2 while he was
 pondering1 he heard a hum of music     
behind the arras2 he put the robe down1 
and stepped through the hangings1 and   
stood awhile in the little oriel that   

looked down into the church4 ,vespers   
were proceeding2 he saw the holy lights 
dimly through the dusty panes1 and heard
 the low preluding of the organ2 then1  
solemn and slow1 rose the sound of a    
chanted psalm on the air2 he carefully  
unfastened the casement which opened    
inward and unclosed it1 standing for a  
while to listen1 while the air1 fragrant
 with incense smoke1 drew into the room 
along the vaulted roof4 ,there were but 
a few worshippers in the church1 who    
stood below him2 two lights burnt stilly
 upon the altar1 and he saw distinctly  
the thin hands of a priest who held a   
book close to his face4 ,he had not set 
foot within a church for many years1 and
 the sight and sound drew his mind back 
to his childhood's days4 ,at last with a
 sigh he put the window to very softly1 
and went to his study1 where he made    
pretence to read1 till the hour came    
when he was wont to retire to his bed4  
,he sent his servant away1 but instead  
of lying down1 he sate1 looking upon a  

parchment1 which he held in his hand1   
while the bells of the city slowly told 
out the creeping hours4  ,at last1 a few
 minutes before midnight1 he rose from  
his place2 the house was now all silent1
 and without the night was very still1  
as though all things slept tranquilly4  
,he opened the press and took from it   
the black robe1 and put it round him1 so
 that it covered him from head to foot1 
and then gathered up the parchment1 and 
the key of the locked room1 and went    
softly out1 and so came to the door4    
,this he undid with a kind of secret and
 awestruck haste1 locking it behind him4
 ,once inside the room1 he wrestled     
awhile with a strong aversion to what   
was in his mind to do1 and stood for a  
moment1 listening intently1 as though he
 expected to hear some sound4 ,but the  
room was still1 except for the faint    
biting of some small creature in the    
wainscot4  ,then with a swift motion he 
took up the tinder-box and made a light2
 he drew aside the curtain that hid the 

alcove2 he put fire to the powder in the
 candlesticks1 which at first           
spluttered1 and then swiftly kindling   
sent up a thick smoky flame1 fragrant   
with drugs1 burning hotly and red4 ,then
 he came back to the altar2 cast a swift
 glance round him to see that all was   
ready2 put fire to the powder on the    
altar1 and in a low and inward voice    
began to recite words from the book1 and
 from the parchment which he held in his
 hand2 once or twice he glanced         
fearfully at the skull1 and the hands   
which gleamed luridly through the smoke2
 the figures in the picture wavered in  
the heat2 and now the powders began to  
burn clear1 and throw up a steady light2
 and still he read1 sometimes turning a 
page1 until at last he made an end2 and 
drawing something from a silver box     
which lay beside the book1 he dropped it
 in the flame1 and looked straight      
before him to see what might befall4    
,the thing that fell in the flame burned
 up brightly1 with a little leaping of  

sparks1 but soon it died down2 and there
 was a long silence1 in the room1 a     
breathless silence1 which1 to ,anthony's
 disordered mind1 was not like the      
silence of emptiness1 but such silence  
as may be heard when unseen things are  
crowding quietly to a closed door1      
expecting it to be opened1 and as it    
were holding each other back4           
,suddenly1 between him and the picture1 
appeared for a moment a pale light1 as  
of moonlight1 and then with a horror    
which words cannot attain to describe1  
,anthony saw a face hang in the air a   
few feet from him1 that looked in his   
own eyes with a sort of intent fury1 as 
though to spring upon him if he turned  
either to the right hand or to the left4
 ,his knees tottered beneath him1 and a 
sweat of icy coldness sprang on his     
brow2 there followed a sound like no    
sound that ,anthony had ever dreamed of 
hearing2 a sound that was near and yet  
remote1 a sound that was low and yet    
charged with power1 like the groaning of

 a voice in grievous pain and anger1    
that strives to be free and yet is      
helpless4 ,and then ,anthony knew that  
he had indeed opened the door that looks
 into the other world1 and that a deadly
 thing that held him in enmity had      
looked out4 ,his reeling brain still    
told him that he was safe where he was1 
but that he must not step or fall       
outside the circle2 but how he should   
resist the power of the wicked face he  
knew not4 ,he tried to frame a prayer in
 his heart2 but there swept such a fury 
of hatred across the face that he dared 
not4 ,so he closed his eyes and stood   
dizzily waiting to fall1 and knowing    
that if he fell it was the end4         
,suddenly1 as he stood with closed eyes1
 he felt the horror of the spell relax2 
he opened his eyes again1 and saw that  
the face died out upon the air1 becoming
 first white and then thin1 like the    
husk that stands on a rush when a fly   
draws itself from its skin1 and floats  
away into the sunshine4  ,then there    

fell a low and sweet music upon the air1
 like a concert of flutes and harps1    
very far away4 ,and then suddenly1 in a 
sweet clear radiance1 the face of his   
mother1 as she lived in his mind1       
appeared in the space1 and looked at him
 with a kind of heavenly love2 then     
beside the face appeared two thin hands 
which seemed to wave a blessing towards 
him1 which flowed like healing into his 
soul4  ,the relief from the horror1 and 
the flood of tenderness that came into  
his heart1 made him reckless4 ,the tears
 came into his eyes1 not in a rising    
film1 but a flood hot and large4 ,he    
took a step forwards round the altar2   
but as he did so1 the vision            
disappeared1 the lights shot up into a  
flare and went out2 the house seemed to 
be suddenly shaken2 in the darkness he  
heard the rattle of bones1 and the clash
 of metal1 and ,anthony fell all his    
length upon the ground and lay as one   
dead4  ,but while he thus lay1 there    
came to him in some secret cell of the  

mind a dreadful vision1 which he could  
only dimly remember afterwards with a   
fitful horror4 ,he thought that he was  
walking in the cloister of some great   
house or college1 a cool place1 with a  
pleasant garden in the court4 ,he paced 
up and down1 and each time that he did  
so1 he paused a little before a great   
door at the end1 a huge blind portal1   
with much carving about it1 which he    
somehow knew he was forbidden to enter4 
,nevertheless1 each time that he came to
 it1 he felt a strong wish1 that        
constantly increased1 to set foot       
therein4 ,now in the dream there fell on
 him a certain heaviness1 and the shadow
 of a cloud fell over the court1 and    
struck the sunshine out of it4 ,and at  
last he made up his mind that he would  
enter4 ,he pushed the door open with    
much difficulty1 and found himself in a 
long blank passage1 very damp and       
chilly1 but with a glimmering light2 he 
walked a few paces down it4 ,the flags  
underfoot were slimy1 and the walls     

streamed with damp4 ,he then thought    
that he would return2 but the great door
 was closed behind him1 and he could not
 open it4 ,this made him very fearful2  
and while he considered what he should  
do1 he saw a tall and angry-looking man 
approaching very swiftly down the       
passage4 ,as he turned to face him1 the 
other came straight to him1 and asked   
him very sternly what he did there2 to  
which ,anthony replied that he had found
 the door open4 ,to which the other     
replied that it was fast now1 and that  
he must go forward4 ,he seized ,anthony 
as he spoke by the arm1 and urged him   
down the passage4 ,anthony would fain   
have resisted1 but he felt like a child 
in the grip of a giant1 and went forward
 in great terror and perplexity4        
,presently they came to a door in the   
side of the wall1 and as they passed it1
 there stepped out an ugly shadowy      
thing1 the nature of which he could not 
clearly discern1 and marched softly     
behind them4 ,soon they came to a turn  

in the passage1 and in a moment the way 
stopped on the brink of a dark well1    
that seemed to go down a long way into  
the earth1 and out of which came a cold 
fetid air1 with a hollow sound like a   
complaining voice4 ,anthony drew back as
 far as he could from the pit1 and set  
his back to the wall1 his companion     
letting go of him4 ,but he could not go 
backward1 for the thing behind him was  
in the passage1 and barred the way1     
creeping slowly nearer4 ,then ,anthony  
was in a great agony of mind1 and waited
 for the end4  ,but while he waited1    
there came some one very softly down the
 passage and drew near2 and the other1  
who had led him to the place1 waited1 as
 though ill-pleased to be interrupted2  
it was too murky for ,anthony to see the
 new-comer1 but he knew in some way that
 he was a friend4 ,the stranger came up 
to them1 and spoke in a low voice to the
 man who had drawn ,anthony thither1 as 
though pleading for something2 and the  
man answered angrily1 but yet with a    

certain dark respect1 and seemed to     
argue that he was acting in his right1  
and might not be interfered with4       
,anthony could not hear what they said1 
they spoke so low1 but he guessed the   
sense1 and knew that it was himself of  
whom they discoursed1 and listened with 
a fearful wonder to see which would     
prevail4 ,the end soon came1 for the    
tall man1 who had brought him there1    
broke out into a great storm of passion2
 and ,anthony heard him say1 ,he hath   
yielded himself to his own will2 and he 
is mine here2 so let us make an end4    
,then the stranger seemed to consider2  
and then with a quiet courage1 and in a 
soft and silvery voice like that of a   
child1 said1 ,i would that you would    
have yielded to my prayer2 but as you   
will not1 ,i have no choice4 ,and he    
took his hand from under the cloak that 
wrapped him1 and held something out2    
then there came a great roaring out of  
the pit1 and a zigzag flame flickered in
 the dark4 ,then in a moment the tall   

man and the shadow were gone2 ,anthony  
could not see whither they went1 and he 
would have thanked the stranger2 but the
 other put his finger to his lip as     
though to order silence1 and pointed to 
the way he had come1 saying1 ,make haste
 and go back2 for they will return anon 
with others2 you know not how dear it   
hath cost me4 ,anthony could see the    
stranger's face in the gloom1 and he was
 surprised to see it so youthful2 but he
 saw also that tears stood in the eyes  
of the stranger1 and that something dark
 like blood trickled down his brow2 yet 
he looked very lovingly at him4 ,so     
,anthony made haste to go back1 and     
found the door ajar2 but as he reached  
it1 he heard a horrible din behind him1 
of cries and screams2 and it was with a 
sense of gratitude1 that he could not   
put into words1 but which filled all his
 heart1 that he found himself back in   
the cloister again4 ,and then the vision
 all fled away1 and with a shock coming 
to himself1 he found that he was lying  

in his own room2 and then he knew that a
 battle had been fought out over his    
soul1 and that the evil had not         
prevailed4  ,he was cold and aching in  
every limb2 the room was silent and     
dark1 with the heavy smell of the burnt 
drugs all about it4 ,anthony crept to   
the door1 and opened it2 locked it      
again1 and made his way in the dark very
 feebly to his bed-chamber2 he had just 
the strength to get into his bed1 and   
then all his life seemed to ebb from    
him1 and he lay1 and thought that he was
 dying4 ,presently from without there   
came the crying of cocks1 and a bell    
beat the hour of four2 and after that1  
in his vigil of weakness1 it was strange
 to see the light glimmer in the        
crevices1 and to hear the awakening     
birds that in the garden bushes took up1
 one after another1 their slender piping
 song1 till all the choir cried         
together4  ,but ,anthony felt a strange 
peace in his heart2 and he had a sense1 
though he could not say why1 that it was

 as once in his childhood1 when he was  
ill1 and his mother had sate softly by  
him while he slept4  ,so he waited1 and 
in spite of his mortal weakness that was
 a blessed hour4  ,when his man came to 
rouse him in the morning1 ,anthony said 
that he believed that he was very ill1  
that he had had a fall1 and that the old
 doctor must be fetched to him4 ,the man
 looked so strangely upon him1 that     
,anthony knew that he had some fear upon
 his mind4 ,presently the doctor was    
brought1 and ,anthony answered such     
questions as were put to him1 in a faint
 voice1 saying1 ,i was late at my work1 
and ,i slipped and fell4 ,the doctor1   
who looked troubled1 gave directions2   
and when he went away he heard his man  
behind the door asking the doctor about 
the strange storm in the night1 that had
 seemed like an earthquake1 or as if a  
thunderbolt had struck the house4 ,but  
the doctor said very gruffly1 ,it is no 
time to talk thus1 when your master is  
sick to death4 ,but ,anthony knew in    

himself that he would not die yet4  ,it 
was long ere he was restored to a       
measure of health2 and indeed he never  
rightly recovered the use of his limbs2 
the doctor held that he had suffered    
some stroke of palsy2 at which ,anthony 
smiled a little1 and made no answer4    
,when he was well enough to creep to and
 fro1 he went sadly to the dark room1   
and with much pain and weakness carried 
the furniture out of it4 ,the picture he
 cut in pieces and burnt2 and the       
candles and dishes1 with the book1 he   
cast into a deep pool in the stream2 the
 bones he buried in the earth2 the      
hangings he stored away for his own     
funeral4  ,anthony never entered his    
workroom again2 but day after day he    
sate in his chair1 and read a little1   
but mostly in the ,bible2 he made a     
friend of a very wise old priest1 to    
whom he opened all his heart1 and to    
whom he conveyed much money to be       
bestowed on the poor2 there was a great 
calm in his spirit1 which was soon      

written in his face1 in spite of his    
pain1 for he often suffered sorely2 but 
he told the priest that something1 he   
knew not certainly what1 seemed to dwell
 by him1 waiting patiently for his      
coming2 and so ,anthony awaited his end4
            99       99       99        
99       99     ,out of the ,sea    ,it 
was about ten of the clock on a         
,november morning in the little village 
of ,blea-on-the-,sands4 ,the hamlet was 
made up of some thirty houses1 which    
clustered together on a low rising      
ground4 ,the place was very poor1 but   
some old merchant of bygone days had    
built in a pious mood a large church1   
which was now too great for the needs of
 the place2 the nave had been unroofed  
in a heavy gale1 and there was no money 
to repair it1 so that it had fallen to  
decay1 and the tower was joined to the  
choir by roofless walls4 ,this was a    
sore trial to the old priest1 ,father   
,thomas1 who had grown grey there2 but  
he had no art in gathering money1 which 

he asked for in a shamefaced way2 and   
the vicarage was a poor one1 hardly     
enough for the old man's needs4 ,so the 
church lay desolate4  ,the village stood
 on what must once have been an island2 
the little river ,reddy1 which runs down
 to the sea1 there forking into two     
channels on the landward side2 towards  
the sea the ground was bare1 full of    
sand-hills covered with a short grass4  
,towards the land was a small wood of   
gnarled trees1 the boughs of which were 
all brushed smooth by the gales2 looking
 landward there was the green flat1 in  
which the river ran1 rising into low    
hills2 hardly a house was visible save  
one or two lonely farms2 two or three   
church towers rose above the hills at a 
long distance away4 ,indeed ,blea was   
much cut off from the world2 there was a
 bridge over the stream on the west     
side1 but over the other channel was no 
bridge1 so that to fare eastward it was 
requisite to go in a boat4 ,to seaward  
there were wide sands1 when the tide was

 out2 when it was in1 it came up nearly 
to the end of the village street4 ,the  
people were mostly fishermen1 but there 
were a few farmers and labourers2 the   
boats of the fishermen lay to the east  
side of the village1 near the river     
channel which gave some draught of      
water2 and the channel was marked out by
 big black stakes and posts that        
straggled out over the sands1 like      
awkward leaning figures1 to the sea's   
brim4  ,father ,thomas lived in a small 
and ancient brick house near the church1
 with a little garden of herbs attached4
 ,he was a kindly man1 much worn by age 
and weather1 with a wise heart1 and he  
loved the quiet life with his small     
flock4 ,this morning he had come out of 
his house to look abroad1 before he     
settled down to the making of his       
sermon4 ,he looked out to sea1 and saw  
with a shadow of sadness the black      
outline of a wreck that had come ashore 
a week before1 and over which the white 
waves were now breaking4 ,the wind blew 

steadily from the north-east1 and had a 
bitter poisonous chill in it1 which it  
doubtless drew from the fields of the   
upper ice4 ,the day was dark and over1  
hung1 not with cloud1 but with a kind of
 dreary vapour that shut out the sun4   
,father ,thomas shuddered at the wind1  
and drew his patched cloak round him4   
,as he did so1 he saw three figures come
 up to the vicarage gate4 ,it was not a 
common thing for him to have visitors in
 the morning1 and he saw with surprise  
that they were old ,master ,john        
,grimston1 the richest man in the place1
 half farmer and half fisherman1 a dark 
surly old man2 his wife1 ,bridget1 a    
timid and frightened woman1 who found   
life with her harsh husband a difficult 
business1 in spite of their wealth1     
which1 for a place like ,blea1 was      
great2 and their son ,henry1 a silly    
shambling man of forty1 who was his     
father's butt4 ,the three walked        
silently and heavily1 as though they    
came on a sad errand4  ,father ,thomas  

went briskly down to meet them1 and     
greeted them with his accustomed        
cheerfulness4 ,and what may ,i do for   
you8 he said4 ,old ,master ,grimston    
made a sort of gesture with his head as 
though his wife should speak2 and she   
said in a low and somewhat husky voice1 
with a rapid utterance1 ,we have a      
matter1 ,father1 we would ask you       
about--are you at leisure8 ,father      
,thomas said1 ,ay1 ,i am ashamed to be  
not more busy6 ,let us go within the    
house4 ,they did so2 and even in the    
little distance to the door1 the ,father
 thought that his visitors behaved      
themselves very strangely4 ,they peered 
round from left to right1 and once or   
twice ,master ,grimston looked sharply  
behind them1 as though they were        
followed4 ,they said nothing but ,ay and
 ,no to the ,father's talk1 and bore    
themselves like people with a sore fear 
on their backs4 ,father ,thomas made up 
his mind that it was some question of   
money1 for nothing else was wont to move

 ,master ,grimston's mind4 ,so he had   
them into his parlour and gave them     
seats1 and then there was a silence1    
while the two men continued to look     
furtively about them1 and the goodwife  
sate with her eyes upon the priest's    
face4 ,father ,thomas knew not what to  
make of this1 till ,master ,grimston    
said harshly1 ,come1 wife1 tell the tale
 and make an end2 we must not take up   
the ,father's time4  ,i hardly know how 
to say it1 ,father1 said ,bridget1 but a
 strange and evil thing has befallen us2
 there is something come to our house1  
and we know not what it is--but it      
brings a fear with it4 ,a sudden        
paleness came over her face1 and she    
stopped1 and the three exchanged a      
glance in which terror was visibly      
written4 ,master ,grimston looked over  
his shoulder swiftly1 and made as though
 to speak1 yet only swallowed in his    
throat2 but ,henry said suddenly1 in a  
loud and woeful voice3 ,it is an evil   
beast out of the sea4 ,and then there   

followed a dreadful silence1 while      
,father ,thomas felt a sudden fear leap 
up in his heart1 at the contagion of the
 fear that he saw written on the faces  
round him4 ,but he said with all the    
cheerfulness he could muster1 ,come1    
friends1 let us not begin to talk of    
sea-beasts2 we must have the whole tale 
,mistress ,grimston1 ,i must hear the   
story--be content--nothing can touch us 
here4 ,the three seemed to draw a faint 
content from his words1 and ,bridget    
began3--  ,it was the day of the wreck1 
,father4 ,john was up betimes1 before   
the dawn2 he walked out early to the    
sands1 and ,henry with him--and they    
were the first to see the wreck--was not
 that it8 ,at these words the father and
 son seemed to exchange a very swift and
 secret look1 and both grew pale4 ,john 
told me there was a wreck ashore1 and   
they went presently and roused the rest 
of the village2 and all that day they   
were out1 saving what could be saved4   
,two sailors were found1 both dead and  

pitifully battered by the sea1 and they 
were buried1 as you know1 ,father1 in   
the churchyard next day2 ,john came back
 about dusk and ,henry with him1 and we 
sate down to our supper4 ,john was      
telling me about the wreck1 as we sate  
beside the fire1 when ,henry1 who was   
sitting apart1 rose up and cried out    
suddenly1 ',what is that8'  ,she paused 
for a moment1 and ,henry1 who sate with 
face blanched1 staring at his mother1   
said1 ,ay1 did ,i--it ran past me       
suddenly4 ,yes1 but what was it8 said   
,father ,thomas trying to smile2 a dog  
or cat1 methinks4 ,it was a beast1 said 
,henry slowly1 in a trembling voice--a  
beast about the bigness of a goat4 ,i   
never saw the like--yet ,i did not see  
it clear2 ,i but felt the air blow1 and 
caught a whiff of it--it was salt like  
the sea1 but with a kind of dead smell  
behind4 ,was that all you saw8 said     
,father ,thomas2 belike you were tired  
and faint1 and the air swam round you   
suddenly--,i have known the like myself 

when weary4  ,nay1 nay1 said ,henry1    
this was not like that--it was a beast1 
sure enough4  ,ay1 and we have seen it  
since1 said ,bridget4 ,at least ,i have 
not seen it clearly yet1 but ,i have    
smelt its odour1 and it turns me        
sick--but ,john and ,henry have seen it 
often--sometimes it lies and seems to   
sleep1 but it watches us2 and again it  
is merry1 and will leap in a corner--and
 ,john saw it skip upon the sands near  
the wreck--did you not1 ,john8 ,at these
 words the two men again exchanged a    
glance1 and then old ,master ,grimston1 
with a dreadful look in his face1 in    
which great anger seemed to strive with 
fear1 said ,nay1 silly woman1 it was not
 near the wreck1 it was out to the east4
 ,it matters little1 said ,father       
,thomas1 who saw well enough this was no
 light matter4 ,i never heard the like  
of it4 ,i will myself come down to your 
house with a holy book1 and see if the  
thing will meet me4 ,i know not what    
this is1 he went on1 whether it is a    

vain terror that hath hold of you2 but  
there be spirits of evil in the world1  
though much fettered by ,christ and ,his
 ,saints--we read of such in ,holy      
,writ--and the sea1 too1 doubtless hath 
its monsters2 and it may be that one    
hath wandered out of the waves1 like a  
dog that hath strayed from his home4 ,i 
dare not say1 till ,i have met it face  
to face4 ,but ,god gives no power to    
such things to hurt those who have a    
fair conscience4--,and here he made a   
stop1 and looked at the three2 ,bridget 
sate regarding him with a hope in her   
face2 but the other two sate peering    
upon the ground2 and the priest divined 
in some secret way that all was not well
 with them4 ,but ,i will come at once1  
he said rising1 and ,i will see if ,i   
can cast out or bind the thing1 whatever
 it be--for ,i am in this place as a    
soldier of the ,lord1 to fight with     
works of darkness4 ,he took a clasped   
book from a table1 and lifted up his    
hat1 saying1 ,let us set forth4 ,then he

 said as they left the room1 ,hath it   
appeared to-day8 ,yes1 indeed1 said     
,henry1 and it was ill content4 ,it     
followed us as though it were angered4  
,come1 said ,father ,thomas turning upon
 him1 you speak thus of a thing1 as you 
might speak of a dog--what is it like8  
,nay1 said ,henry1 ,i know not2 ,i can  
never see it clearly2 it is like a speck
 in the eye--it is never there when you 
look upon it--it glides away very       
secretly2 it is most like a goat1 ,i    
think4 ,it seems to be horned1 and      
hairy2 but ,i have seen its eyes1 and   
they were yellow1 like a flame4  ,as he 
said these words ,master ,grimston went 
in haste to the door1 and pulled it open
 as though to breathe the air4 ,the     
others followed him and went out2 but   
,master ,grimston drew the priest aside1
 and said like a man in a mortal fear1  
,look you1 ,father1 all this is         
true--the thing is a devil--and why it  
abides with us ,i know not2 but ,i      
cannot live so2 and unless it be cast   

out it will slay me--but if money be of 
avail1 ,i have it in abundance4 ,nay1   
said ,father ,thomas1 let there be no   
talk of money--perchance if ,i can aid  
you1 you may give of your gratitude to  
,god4 ,ay1 ay1 said the old man         
hurriedly1 that was what ,i meant--there
 is money in abundance for ,god1 if he  
will but set me free4  ,so they walked  
very sadly together through the street4 
,there were few folk about2 the men and 
the children were all abroad--a woman or
 two came to the house doors1 and       
wondered a little to see them pass so   
solemnly1 as though they followed a body
 to the grave4  ,master ,grimston's     
house was the largest in the place4 ,it 
had a walled garden before it1 with a   
strong door set in the wall4 ,the house 
stood back from the road1 a dark front  
of brick with gables2 behind it the     
garden sloped nearly to the sands1 with 
wooden barns and warehouses4 ,master    
,grimston unlocked the door1 and then it
 seemed that his terrors came over him1 

for he would have the priest enter      
first4 ,father ,thomas1 with a certain  
apprehension of which he was ashamed1   
walked quickly in1 and looked about him4
 ,the herbage of the garden had mostly  
died down in the winter1 and a tangle of
 sodden stalks lay over the beds4 ,a    
flagged path edged with box led up to   
the house1 which seemed to stare at them
 out of its dark windows with a sort of 
steady gaze4 ,master ,grimston fastened 
the door behind them1 and they went all 
together1 keeping close one to another1 
up to the house1 the door of which      
opened upon a big parlour or kitchen1   
sparely furnished1 but very clean and   
comfortable4 ,some vessels of metal     
glittered on a rack4 ,there were chairs1
 ranged round the open fireplace4 ,there
 was no sound except that the wind      
buffeted in the chimney4 ,it looked a   
quiet and homely place1 and ,father     
,thomas grew ashamed of his fears4 ,now1
 said he in his firm voice1 though ,i am
 your guest here1 ,i will appoint what  

shall be done4 ,we will sit here        
together1 and talk as cheerfully as we  
may1 till we have dined4 ,then1 if      
nothing appears to us1--and he crossed  
himself--,i will go round the house1    
into every room1 and see if we can track
 the thing to its lair3 then ,i will    
abide with you till evensong2 and then  
,i will soon return1 and lie here       
to-night4 ,even if the thing be wary1   
and dares not to meet the power of the  
,church in the day-time1 perhaps it will
 venture out at night2 and ,i will even 
try a fall with it4 ,so come1 good      
people1 and be comforted4  ,so they sate
 together2 and ,father ,thomas talked of
 many things1 and told some old legends 
of saints2 and they dined1 though       
without much cheer2 and still nothing   
appeared4 ,then1 after dinner1 ,father  
,thomas would view the house4 ,so he    
took his book up1 and they went from    
room to room4 ,on the ground floor there
 were several chambers not used1 which  
they entered in turn1 but saw nothing2  

on the upper floor was a large room     
where ,master ,grimston and his wife    
slept2 and a further room for ,henry1   
and a guest-chamber in which the priest 
was to sleep if need was2 and a room    
where a servant-maid slept4 ,and now the
 day began to darken and to turn to     
evening1 and ,father ,thomas felt a     
shadow grow in his mind4 ,there came    
into his head a verse of ,scripture     
about a spirit which found a house      
empty1 swept and garnished1 and called  
his fellows to enter in4  ,at the end of
 the passage was a locked door2 and     
,father ,thomas said3 ,this is the last 
room--let us enter4 ,nay1 there is no   
need to do that1 said ,master ,grimston 
in a kind of haste2 it leads            
nowhither--it is but a room of stores4  
,it were a pity to leave it unvisited1  
said the ,father--and as he said the    
word1 there came a kind of stirring from
 within4 ,a rat1 doubtless1 said the    
,father1 striving with a sudden sense of
 fear2 but the pale faces round him told

 another tale4 ,come1 ,master ,grimston1
 let us be done with this2 said ,father 
,thomas decisively2 the hour of vespers 
draws nigh4 ,so ,master ,grimston slowly
 drew out a key and unlocked the door1  
and ,father ,thomas marched in4 ,it was 
a simple place enough4 ,there were      
shelves on which various household      
matters lay1 boxes and jars1 with twine 
and cordage4 ,on the ground stood       
chests4 ,there were some clothes hanging
 on pegs1 and in a corner was a heap of 
garments1 piled up4 ,on one of the      
chests stood a box of rough deal1 and   
from the corner of it dripped water1    
which lay in a little pool on the floor4
 ,master ,grimston went hurriedly to the
 box and pushed it further to the wall4 
,as he did so1 a kind of sound came from
 ,henry's lips4 ,father ,thomas turned  
and looked at him2 he stood pale and    
strength-less1 his eyes fixed on the    
corner--at the same moment something    
dark and shapeless seemed to slip past  
the group1 and there came to the        

nostrils of ,father ,thomas a strange   
sharp smell1 as of the sea1 only that   
there was a taint within it1 like the   
smell of corruption4  ,they all turned  
and looked at ,father ,thomas together1 
as though seeking a comfort from his    
presence4 ,he1 hardly knowing what he   
did1 and in the grasp of a terrible     
fear1 fumbled with his book2 and opening
 it1 read the first words that his eye  
fell upon1 which was the place where the
 ,blessed ,lord1 beset with enemies1    
said that if ,he did but pray to ,his   
,father1 ,he should send ,him forthwith 
legions of angels to encompass ,him4    
,and the verse seemed to the priest so  
like a message sent instantly from      
heaven that he was not a little         
comforted4  ,but the thing1 whatever the
 reason was1 appeared to them no more at
 that time4 ,yet the thought of it lay  
very heavy on ,father ,thomas's heart4  
,in truth he had not in the bottom of   
his mind believed that he would see it1 
but had trusted in his honest life and  

his sacred calling to protect him4 ,he  
could hardly speak for some             
minutes1--moreover the horror of the    
thing was very great--and seeing him so 
grave1 their terrors were increased1    
though there was a kind of miserable joy
 in their minds that some one1 and he a 
man of high repute1 should suffer with  
them4  ,then ,father ,thomas1 after a   
pause--they were now in the             
parlour--said1 speaking very slowly1    
that they were in a sore affliction of  
,satan1 and that they must withstand him
 with a good courage--and look you1 he  
added1 turning with a great sternness to
 the three1 if there be any mortal sin  
upon your hearts1 see that you confess  
it and be shriven speedily--for while   
such a thing lies upon the heart1 so    
long hath ,satan power to               
hurt--otherwise have no fear at all4    
,then ,father ,thomas slipped out to the
 garden1 and hearing the bell pulled for
 vespers1 he went to the church1 and the
 three would go with him1 because they  

would not be left alone4 ,so they went  
together2 by this time the street was   
fuller1 and the servant-maid had told   
tales1 so that there was much talk in   
the place about what was going forward4 
,none spoke with them as they went1 but 
at every corner you might see one check 
another in talk1 and a silence fall upon
 a group1 so that they knew that their  
terrors were on every tongue4 ,there was
 but a handful of worshippers in the    
church1 which was dark1 save for the    
light on ,father ,thomas' book4 ,he read
 the holy service swiftly and           
courageously1 but his face was very pale
 and grave in the light of the candle4  
,when the vespers were over1 and he had 
put off his robe1 he said that he would 
go back to his house1 and gather what he
 needed for the night1 and that they    
should wait for him at the churchyard   
gate4 ,so he strode off to his vicarage4
 ,but as he shut to the door1 he saw a  
dark figure come running up the garden2 
he waited with a fear in his mind1 but  

in a moment he saw that it was ,henry1  
who came up breathless1 and said that he
 must speak with the ,father alone4     
,father ,thomas knew that somewhat dark 
was to be told him4 ,so he led ,henry   
into the parlour and seated himself1 and
 said1 ,now1 my son1 speak boldly4 ,so  
there was an instant's silence1 and     
,henry slipped on to his knees4  ,then  
in a moment ,henry with a sob began to  
tell his tale4 ,he said that on the day 
of the wreck his father had roused him  
very early in the dawn1 and had told him
 to put on his clothes and come         
silently1 for he thought there was a    
wreck ashore4 ,his father carried a     
spade in his hand1 he knew not then why4
 ,they went down to the tide1 which was 
moving out very fast1 and left but an   
inch or two of water on the sands4      
,there was but a little light1 but1 when
 they had walked a little1 they saw the 
black hull of a ship before them1 on the
 edge of the deeper water1 the waves    
driving over it2 and then all at once   

they came upon the body of a man lying  
on his face on the sand4 ,there was no  
sign of life in him1 but he clasped a   
bag in his hand that was heavy1 and the 
pocket of his coat was full to bulging2 
and there lay1 moreover1 some glittering
 things about him that seemed to be     
coins4 ,they lifted the body up1 and his
 father stripped the coat off from the  
man1 and then bade ,henry dig a hole in 
the sand1 which he presently did1 though
 the sand and water oozed fast into it4 
,then his father1 who had been stooping 
down1 gathering somewhat up from the    
sand1 raised the body up1 and laid it in
 the hole1 and bade ,henry cover it with
 the sand4 ,and so he did till it was   
nearly hidden4 ,then came a horrible    
thing2 the sand in the hole began to    
move and stir1 and presently a hand was 
put out with clutching fingers2 and     
,henry had dropped the spade1 and said1 
,there is life in him1 but his father   
seized the spade1 and shovelled the sand
 into the hole with a kind of silent    

fury1 and trampled it over and smoothed 
it down--and then he gathered up the    
coat and the bag1 and handed ,henry the 
spade4 ,by this time the town was astir1
 and they saw1 very faintly1 a man run  
along the shore eastward2 so1 making a  
long circuit to the west1 they returned2
 his father had put the spade away and  
taken the coat upstairs2 and then he    
went out with ,henry1 and told all he   
could find that there was a wreck       
ashore4  ,the priest heard the story    
with a fierce shame and anger1 and      
turning to ,henry he said1 ,but why did 
you not resist your father1 and save the
 poor sailor8 ,i dared not1 said ,henry 
shuddering1 though ,i would have done so
 if ,i could2 but my father has a power 
over me1 and ,i am used to obey him4    
,then said the priest1 ,this is a dark  
matter4 ,but you have told the story    
bravely1 and now will ,i shrive you1 my 
son4 ,so he gave him shrift4 ,then he   
said to ,henry1 ,and have you seen aught
 that would connect the beast that      

visits you with this thing8 ,ay1 that ,i
 have1 said ,henry1 for ,i watched it   
with my father skip and leap in the     
water over the place where the man lies 
buried4 ,then the priest said1 ,your    
father must tell me the tale too1 and he
 must make submission to the law4 ,he   
will not1 said ,henry4 ,then will ,i    
compel him1 said the priest4 ,not out of
 my mouth1 said ,henry1 or he will slay 
me too4 ,and then the priest said that  
he was in a strait place1 for he could  
not use the words of confession of one  
man to convict another of his sin4 ,so  
he gathered his things in haste1 and    
walked back to the church2 but ,henry   
went another way1 saying ,i made excuse 
to come away1 and said ,i went          
elsewhere2 but ,i fear my father        
much--he sees very deep2 and ,i would   
not have him suspect me of having made  
confession4  ,then the ,father met the  
other two at the church gate2 and they  
went down to the house in silence1 the  
,father pondering heavily2 and at the   

door ,henry joined them1 and it seemed  
to the ,father that old ,master         
,grimston regarded him not4 ,so they    
entered the house in silence1 and ate in
 silence1 listening earnestly for any   
sound4 ,and the ,father looked oft on   
,master ,grimston1 who ate and drank and
 said nothing1 never raising his eyes4  
,but once the ,father saw him laugh     
secretly to himself1 so that the blood  
came cold in the ,father's veins1 and he
 could hardly contain himself from      
accusing him4 ,then the ,father had them
 to prayers1 and prayed earnestly       
against the evil1 and that they should  
open their hearts to ,god1 if he would  
show them why this misery came upon     
them4  ,then they went to bed2 and      
,henry asked that he might lie in the   
priest's room1 which he willingly       
granted4 ,and so the house was dark1 and
 they made as though they would sleep2  
but the ,father could not sleep1 and he 
heard ,henry weeping silently to himself
 like a little child4  ,but at last the 

,father slept--how long he knew not--and
 suddenly brake out of his sleep with a 
horror of darkness all about him1 and   
knew that there was some evil thing     
abroad4 ,so he looked upon the room4 ,he
 heard ,henry mutter heavily in his     
sleep as though there was a dark terror 
upon him2 and then1 in the light of the 
dying embers1 the ,father saw a thing   
rise upon the hearth1 as though it had  
slept there1 and woke to stretch itself4
 ,and then in the half-light it seemed  
softly to gambol and play2 but whereas  
when an innocent beast does this in the 
simple joy of its heart1 and seems a    
fond and pretty sight1 the ,father      
thought he had never seen so ugly a     
sight as the beast gambolling all by    
itself1 as if it could not contain its  
own dreadful joy2 it looked viler and   
more wicked every moment2 then1 too1    
there spread in the room the sharp scent
 of the sea1 with the foul smell        
underneath it1 that gave the ,father a  
deadly sickness2 he tried to pray1 but  

no words would come1 and he felt indeed 
that the evil was too strong for him4   
,presently the beast desisted from its  
play1 and looking wickedly about it1    
came near to the ,father's bed1 and     
seemed to put up its hairy forelegs upon
 it2 he could see its narrow and obscene
 eyes1 which burned with a dull yellow  
light1 and were fixed upon him4 ,and now
 the ,father thought that his end was   
near1 for he could stir neither hand nor
 foot1 and the sweat rained down his    
brow2 but he made a mighty effort1 and  
in a voice which shocked himself1 so dry
 and husky and withal of so loud and    
screaming a tone it was1 he said three  
holy words4 ,the beast gave a great     
quiver of rage1 but it dropped down on  
the floor1 and in a moment was gone4    
,then ,henry woke1 and raising himself  
on his arm1 said somewhat2 but there    
broke out in the house a great outcry   
and the stamping of feet1 which seemed  
very fearful in the silence of the      
night4 ,the priest leapt out of his bed 

all dizzy1 and made a light1 and ran to 
the door1 and went out1 crying whatever 
words came to his head4 ,the door of    
,master ,grimston's room was open1 and a
 strange and strangling sound came      
forth2 the ,father made his way in1 and 
found ,master ,grimston lying upon the  
floor1 his wife bending over him2 he lay
 still1 breathing pitifully1 and every  
now and then a shudder ran through him4 
,in the room there seemed a strange and 
shadowy tumult going forward2 but the   
,father saw that no time could be lost1 
and kneeling down beside ,master        
,grimston1 he prayed with all his might4
  ,presently ,master ,grimston ceased to
 struggle and lay still1 like a man who 
had come out of a sore conflict4 ,then  
he opened his eyes1 and the ,father     
stopped his prayers1 and looking very   
hard at him he said1 ,my son1 the time  
is very short--give ,god the glory4     
,then ,master ,grimston1 rolling his    
haggard eyes upon the group1 twice      
strove to speak and could not2 but the  

third time the ,father1 bending down his
 head1 heard him say in a thin voice1   
that seemed to float from a long way    
off1 ,i slew him 444 my sin4 ,then the  
,father swiftly gave him shrift1 and as 
he said the last word1 ,master          
,grimston's head fell over on the side1 
and the ,father said1 ,he is gone4 ,and 
,bridget broke out into a terrible cry1 
and fell upon ,henry's neck1 who had    
entered unseen4  ,then the ,father bade 
him lead her away1 and put the poor body
 on the bed2 as he did so he noticed    
that the face of the dead man was       
strangely bruised and battered1 as      
though it had been stamped upon by the  
hoofs of some beast4 ,then ,father      
,thomas knelt1 and prayed until the     
light came filtering in through the     
shutters2 and the cocks crowed in the   
village1 and presently it was day4 ,but 
that night the ,father learnt strange   
secrets1 and something of the dark      
purposes of ,god was revealed to him4   
,in the morning there came one to find  

the priest1 and told him that another   
body had been thrown up on the shore1   
which was strangely smeared with sand1  
as though it had been rolled over and   
over in it2 and the ,father took order  
for its burial4  ,then the priest had   
long talk with ,bridget and ,henry4 ,he 
found them sitting together1 and she    
held her son's hand and smoothed his    
hair1 as though he had been a little    
child2 and ,henry sobbed and wept1 but  
,bridget was very calm4 ,he hath told me
 all1 she said1 and we have decided that
 he shall do whatever you bid him2 must 
he be given to justice8 and she looked  
at the priest very pitifully4 ,nay1 nay1
 said the priest4 ,i hold not ,henry to 
account for the death of the man2 it was
 his father's sin1 who hath made heavy  
atonement--the secret shall be buried in
 our hearts4  ,then ,bridget told him   
how she had waked suddenly out of her   
sleep1 and heard her husband cry out2   
and that then followed a dreadful kind  
of struggling1 with the scent of the sea

 over all2 and then he had all at once  
fallen to the ground and she had gone to
 him--and that then the priest had come4
  ,then ,father ,thomas said with tears 
that ,god had shown them deep things and
 visited them very strangely2 and they  
would henceforth live humbly in his     
sight1 showing mercy4  ,then lastly he  
went with ,henry to the store-room2 and 
there1 in the box that had dripped with 
water1 lay the coat of the dead man1    
full of money1 and the bag of money too2
 and ,henry would have cast it back into
 the sea1 but the priest said that this 
might not be1 but that it should be     
bestowed plentifully upon shipwrecked   
mariners unless the heirs should be     
found4 ,but the ship appeared to be a   
foreign ship1 and no search ever        
revealed whence the money had come1 save
 that it seemed to have been violently  
come by4  ,master ,grimston was found to
 have left much wealth4 ,but ,bridget   
would sell the house and the land1 and  
it mostly went to rebuild the church to 

,god's glory4 ,then ,bridget and ,henry 
removed to the vicarage and served      
,father ,thomas faithfully1 and they    
guarded their secret4 ,and beside the   
nave is a little high turret built1     
where burns a lamp in a lantern at the  
top1 to give light to those at sea4     
,now the beast troubled those of whom ,i
 write no more2 but it is easier to     
raise up evil than to lay it2 and there 
are those that say that to this day a   
man or a woman with an evil thought in  
their hearts may see on a certain       
evening in ,november1 at the ebb of the 
tide1 a goatlike thing wade in the      
water1 snuffing at the sand1 as though  
it sought but found not4 ,but of this ,i
 know nothing4            99       99   
99       99       99     ,paul the      
,minstrel    ,i   ,the old ,house of    
,heritage stood just below the downs1 in
 the few meadows that were all that was 
left of a great estate4 ,the house      
itself was of stone1 very firmly and    
gravely built2 and roofed with thin     

slabs of stone1 small at the roof-ridge1
 and increasing in size towards the     
eaves4 ,inside1 there were a few low    
panelled rooms opening on a large       
central hall2 there was little          
furniture1 and that of a sturdy and     
solid kind--but the house needed nothing
 else1 and had all the beauty that came 
of a simple austerity4  ,old ,mistress  
,alison1 who abode there1 was aged and  
poor4 ,she had but one house-servant1 a 
serious and honest maid1 whose only     
pride was to keep the place sweet1 and  
save her mistress from all care4 ,but   
,mistress ,alison was not to be dismayed
 by poverty2 she was a tranquil and     
loving woman1 who had never married2 but
 who1 as if to compensate her for the   
absence of nearer ties1 had a simple and
 wholesome love of all created things4  
,she was infirm now1 but was quite      
content1 when it was fine1 to sit for   
long hours idle for very love1 and look 
about her with a peaceful and smiling   
air2 she prayed much1 or rather held a  

sweet converse in her heart with ,god2  
she thought little of her latter end1   
which she knew could not be long        
delayed1 but was content to leave it in 
the hands of the ,father1 sure that ,he1
 who had made the world so beautiful and
 so full of love1 would comfort her when
 she came to enter in at the dark gate4 
,there was also an old and silent man   
who looked after the cattle and the few 
hens that the household kept2 at the    
back of the house was a thatched        
timbered grange1 where he laid his      
tools2 but he spent his time mostly in  
the garden1 which sloped down to the    
fishpond1 and was all bordered with box2
 here was a pleasant homely scent1 on   
hot days1 of the good herbs that shed   
their rich smell in the sun2 and here   
the flies1 that sate in the leaves1     
would buzz at the sound of a footfall1  
and then be still again1 cleaning their 
hands together in their busy manner4    
,the only other member of the quiet     
household was the boy ,paul1 who was    

distantly akin to ,mistress ,alison4 ,he
 had neither father nor mother1 and had 
lived at ,heritage all of his life that 
he could remember2 he was a slender1    
serious boy1 with delicate features1 and
 large grey eyes that looked as if they 
held a secret2 but if they had1 it was a
 secret of his forefathers2 for the boy 
had led a most quiet and innocent life2 
he had been taught to read in a fashion1
 but he had no schooling2 sometimes a   
neighbouring goodwife would say to      
,mistress ,alison that the boy should be
 sent to school1 and ,mistress ,alison  
would open her peaceful eyes and say1   
,nay1 ,paul is not like other boys--he  
would get all the hurt and none of the  
good of school2 when there is work for  
him he will do it--but ,i am not for    
making all toil alike4 ,paul shall grow 
up like the lilies of the field4 ,god   
made not all things to be busy4 ,and the
 goodwife would shake her head and      
wonder2 for it was not easy to answer   
,mistress ,alison1 who indeed was often 

right in the end4  ,so ,paul grew up as 
he would2 sometimes he would help the   
old gardener1 when there was work to be 
done2 for he loved to serve others1 and 
was content with toil if it was         
sweetened with love2 but often he       
rambled by himself for hours together2  
he cared little for company1 because the
 earth was to him full of wonder and of 
sweet sights and sounds4 ,he loved to   
climb the down1 and lie feasting his    
eyes on the rich plain1 spread out like 
a map2 the farms in their closes1 the   
villages from which went up the smoke at
 evening1 the distant blue hills1 like  
the hills of heaven1 the winding river1 
and the lake that lay in the winter     
twilight like a shield of silver4 ,he   
loved to see the sun flash on the       
windows of the houses so distant that   
they could not themselves be seen1 but  
only sparkled like stars4 ,he loved to  
loiter on the edge of the steep hanging 
woods in summer1 to listen to the       
humming of the flies deep in the brake1 

and to catch a sight of lonely flowers2 
he loved the scent of the wind blowing  
softly out of the copse1 and he wondered
 what the trees said to each other1 when
 they stood still and happy in the heat 
of midday4 ,he loved1 too1 the silent   
night1 full of stars1 when the wood that
 topped the hill lay black against the  
sky4 ,the whole world seemed to him to  
be full of a mysterious and beautiful   
life of which he could never quite catch
 the secret2 these innocent flowers1    
these dreaming trees seemed1 as it were1
 to hold him smiling at arm's length1   
while they guarded their joy from him4  
,the birds and the beasts seemed to him 
to have less of this quiet joy1 for they
 were fearful and careful1 working hard 
to find a living1 and dreading the sight
 of man2 but sometimes in the fragrant  
eventide the nightingale would say a    
little of what was in her heart4 ,yes1  
,paul would say to himself1 it is like  
that4  ,one other chief delight the boy 
had2 he knew the magic of sound1 which  

spoke to his heart in a way that it     
speaks to but few2 the sounds of the    
earth gave up their sweets to him2 the  
musical fluting of owls1 the liquid     
notes of the cuckoo1 the thin pipe of   
dancing flies1 the mournful creaking of 
the cider-press1 the horn of the oxherd 
wound far off on the hill1 the tinkling 
of sheep-bells--of all these he knew the
 notes2 and not only these1 but the     
rhythmical swing of the scythes sweeping
 through the grass1 the flails heard    
through the hot air from the barn1 the  
clinking of the anvil in the village    
forge1 the bubble of the stream through 
the weir--all these had a tale to tell  
him4 ,sometimes1 for days together1 he  
would hum to himself a few notes that   
pleased him by their sweet cadence1 and 
he would string together some simple    
words to them1 and sing them to himself 
with gentle content4 ,the song of the   
reapers on the upland1 or the rude      
chanting in the little church had a     
magical charm for him2 and ,mistress    

,alison would hear the boy1 in his room 
overhead1 singing softly to himself for 
very gladness of heart1 like a little   
bird of the dawn1 or tapping out some   
tripping beat of time2 when she would   
wonder and speak to ,god of what was in 
her heart4  ,as ,paul grew older--he was
 now about sixteen--a change came slowly
 over his mind2 he began to have moods  
of a silent discontent1 a longing for   
something far away1 a desire of he knew 
not what4 ,his old dreams began to fade1
 though they visited him from time to   
time2 but he began to care less for the 
silent beautiful life of the earth1 and 
to take more thought of men4 ,he had    
never felt much about himself before2   
but one day1 lying beside a woodland    
pool at the feet of the down1 he caught 
a sight of his own face2 and when he    
smiled at it1 it seemed to smile back at
 him2 he began to wonder what the world 
was like1 and what all the busy people  
that lived therein said and thought2 he 
began to wish to have a friend1 that he 

might tell him what was in his          
heart--and yet he knew not what it was  
that he would say4 ,he began1 too1 to   
wonder how people regarded him--the     
people who had before been but to him a 
distant part of the shows of the world4 
,once he came in upon ,mistress ,alison1
 who sate talking with a gossip of hers2
 when he entered1 there was a sudden    
silence1 and a glance passed between the
 two2 and ,paul divined that they had   
been speaking of himself1 and desired to
 know what they had said4  ,one day the 
old gardener1 in a more talkative mood  
than was his wont1 told him a tale of   
one who had visited the ,wishing ,well  
that lay a few miles away1 and1 praying 
for riches1 had found the next day1 in  
digging1 an old urn of pottery1 full of 
ancient coins4 ,paul was very urgent to 
know about the well1 and the old man    
told him that it must be visited at     
noonday and alone4 ,that he that would  
have his wish must throw a gift into the
 water1 and drink of the well1 and then1

 turning to the sun1 must wish his wish 
aloud4 ,paul asked him many more        
questions1 but the old man would say no 
more4 ,so ,paul determined that he would
 visit the place for himself4  ,the next
 day he set off4 ,he took with him one  
of his few possessions1 a little silver 
coin that a parson hard by had given    
him4 ,he went his way quickly among the 
pleasant fields1 making towards the     
great bulk of ,blackdown beacon1 where  
the hills swelled up into a steep bluff1
 with a white road1 cut in the chalk1   
winding steeply up their green smooth   
sides4 ,it was a fresh morning with a   
few white clouds racing merrily         
overhead1 the shadows of which fell     
every now and then upon the down and ran
 swiftly over it1 like a flood of shade 
leaping down the sides4 ,there were few 
people to be seen anywhere2 the fields  
were full of grass1 with large daisies  
and high red sorrel4 ,by midday he was  
beneath the front of ,blackdown1 and    
here he asked at a cottage of a         

good-natured woman1 that was bustling in
 and out1 the way to the well4 ,she     
answered him very kindly and described  
the path--it was not many yards         
away--and then asked where he came from1
 saying briskly1 ,and what would you    
wish for8 ,i should have thought you had
 all you could desire4 ,why1 ,i hardly  
know2 said ,paul smiling4 ,it seems that
 ,i desire a thousand things1 and can   
scarcely give a name to one4 ,that is   
ever the way1 said the woman1 but the   
day will come when you will be content  
with one4 ,paul did not understand what 
she meant1 but thanked her and went on  
his way2 and wondered that she stood so 
long looking after him4  ,at last he    
came to the spring4 ,it was a pool in a 
field1 ringed round by alders4 ,paul    
thought he had never seen a fairer      
place4 ,there grew a number of great    
kingcups round the brim1 with their     
flowers like glistening gold1 and with  
cool thick stalks and fresh leaves4     
,inside the ring of flowers the pool    

looked strangely deep and black2 but    
looking into it you could see the sand  
leaping at the bottom in three or four  
cones2 and to the left the water bubbled
 away in a channel covered with         
water-plants4 ,paul could see that there
 was an abundance of little things at   
the bottom1 half covered with           
sand--coins1 flowers1 even little       
jars--which he knew to be the gifts of  
wishers4 ,so he flung his own coin in   
the pool1 and saw it slide hither and   
thither1 glancing in the light1 till it 
settled at the dark bottom4 ,then he    
dipped and drank1 turned to the sun1 and
 closing his eyes1 said out loud1 ,give 
me what ,i desire4 ,and this he repeated
 three times1 to be sure that he was    
heard4 ,then he opened his eyes again1  
and for a moment the place looked       
different1 with a strange grey light4   
,but there was no answer to his prayer  
in heaven or earth1 and the very sky    
seemed to wear a quiet smile4  ,paul    
waited a little1 half expecting some    

answer2 but presently he turned his back
 upon the pool and walked slowly away2  
the down lay on one side of him1 looking
 solemn and dark over the trees which   
grew very plentifully2 ,paul thought    
that he would like to walk upon the     
down2 so he went up a little leafy lane 
that seemed to lead to it4 ,suddenly1 as
 he passed a small thicket1 a voice     
hailed him2 it was a rich and cheerful  
voice1 and it came from under the trees4
 ,he turned in the direction of the     
voice1 which seemed to be but a few     
yards off1 and saw1 sitting on a green  
bank under the shade1 two figures4 ,one 
was a man of middle age1 dressed lightly
 as though for travelling1 and ,paul    
thought somewhat fantastically4 ,his hat
 had a flower stuck in the band4 ,but   
,paul thought little of the dress1      
because the face of the man attracted   
him2 he was sunburnt and strong-looking1
 and ,paul at first thought he must be a
 soldier2 he had a short beard1 and his 
hair was grown rather long2 his face was

 deeply lined1 but there was something  
wonderfully good-natured1 friendly1 and 
kind about his whole expression4 ,he was
 smiling1 and his smile showed small    
white teeth2 and ,paul felt in a moment 
that he could trust him1 and that the   
man was friendly disposed to himself and
 all the world2 friendly1 not in a      
servile way1 as one who wished to       
please1 but in a sort of prodigal1 royal
 way1 as one who had great gifts to     
bestow1 and was liberal of them1 and    
looked to be made welcome4 ,the other   
figure was that of a boy rather older   
than himself1 with a merry ugly face1   
who in looking at ,paul1 seemed yet to  
keep a sidelong and deferential glance  
at the older man1 as though admiring    
him1 and desiring to do as he did in all
 things4  ,where go you1 pretty boy1    
alone in the noontide8 said the man4    
,paul stopped and listened1 and for a   
moment could not answer4 ,then he said1 
,i am going to the down1 sir1 and ,i    
have been--he hesitated for a moment--,i

 have been to the ,wishing ,well4  ,the 
,wishing ,well8 said the man gravely4 ,i
 did not know there was one hereabouts4 
,i thought that every one in this happy 
valley had been too well content--and   
what did you wish for1 if ,i may ask8   
,paul was silent and grew red2 and then 
he said1 ,oh1 just for my heart's       
desire4  ,that is either a very cautious
 or a very beautiful answer1 said the   
man1 and it gives me a lesson in        
manners2 but will you not sit a little  
with us in the shade8--and you shall    
hear a concert of music such as ,i dare 
say you shall hardly hear out of ,france
 or ,italy4 ,do you practise music1     
child1 the divine gift8  ,i love it a   
little1 said ,paul1 but ,i have no      
skill4  ,yet you look to me like one who
 might have skill1 said the man2 you    
have the air of it--you look as though  
you listened1 and as though you dreamed 
pleasant dreams4 ,but1 ,jack1 he said1  
turning to his boy1 what shall we give  
our friend8--shall he have the ',song of

 the ,rose' first8  ,the boy at this    
word drew a little metal pipe out of his
 doublet1 and put it to his lips2 and   
the man reached out his hand and took up
 a small lute which lay on the bank     
beside him4 ,he held up a warning finger
 to the boy4 ,remember1 he said1 that   
you come in at the fifth chord1 together
 with the voice--not before4 ,he struck 
four simple chords on the lute1 very    
gently1 and with a sort of dainty       
preciseness2 and then at the same moment
 the little pipe and his own voice      
began2 the pipe played a simple descant 
in quicker time1 with two notes to each 
note of the song1 and the man in a brisk
 and simple way1 as it were at the edge 
of his lips1 sang a very sweet little   
country song1 in a quiet homely measure4
  ,there seemed to ,paul to be nothing  
short of magic about it4 ,there was a   
beautiful restraint about the voice1    
which gave him a sense both of power and
 feeling held back2 but it brought      
before him a sudden picture of a garden1

 and the sweet life of the flowers and  
little trees1 taking what came1 sunshine
 and rain1 and just living and smiling1 
breathing fragrant breath from morning  
to night1 and sleeping a light sleep    
till they should waken to another       
tranquil day4 ,he listened as if        
spellbound4 ,there were but three       
verses1 and though he could not remember
 the words1 it seemed as though the rose
 spoke and told her dreams4  ,he could  
have listened for ever2 but the voice   
made a sudden stop1 not prolonging the  
last note1 but keeping very closely to  
the time2 the pipe played a little run1 
like an echo of the song1 the man struck
 a brisk chord on the lute--and all was 
over4 ,bravely played1 ,jack6 said the  
singer2 no musician could have played it
 better4 ,you remembered what ,i told   
you1 to keep each note separate1 and    
have no gliding4 ,this song must trip   
from beginning to end1 like a brisk bird
 that hops on the grass4 ,then he turned
 to ,paul and1 with a smile1 said1      

,reverend sir1 how does my song please  
you8  ,i never heard anything more      
beautiful1 said ,paul simply4 ,i cannot 
say it1 but it was like a door opened2  
and he looked at the minstrel with      
intent eyes2--may ,i hear it again8     
,boy1 said the singer gravely1 ,i had   
rather have such a look as you gave me  
during the song than a golden crown4    
,you will not understand what ,i say1   
but you paid me the homage of the pure  
heart1 the best reward that the minstrel
 desires4  ,then he conferred with the  
other boy in a low tone1 and struck a   
very sad yet strong chord upon his lute2
 and then1 with a grave face1 he sang   
what to ,paul seemed like a dirge for a 
dead hero who had done with mortal      
things1 and whose death seemed more a   
triumph than a sorrow4 ,when he had sung
 the first verse1 the pipe came softly  
and sadly in1 like the voice of grief   
that could not be controlled1 the       
weeping of those on whom lay the shadow 
of loss4 ,to ,paul1 in a dim way1--for  

he was but a child--the song seemed the 
voice of the world1 lamenting its       
noblest1 yet triumphing in their        
greatness1 and desirous to follow in    
their steps4 ,it brought before him all 
the natural sorrows of death1 the call  
to quit the sweet and pleasant things of
 the world--a call that could not be    
denied1 and that was in itself indeed   
stronger and even sweeter than the      
delights which it bade its listeners    
leave4 ,and ,paul seemed to walk in some
 stately procession of men far off and  
ancient1 who followed a great king to   
the grave1 and whose hearts were too    
full of wonder to think yet what they   
had lost4 ,it was an uplifting sadness2 
and when the sterner strain came to an  
end1 ,paul said very quietly1 putting   
into words the thoughts of his full     
heart1 ,i did not think that death could
 be so beautiful4 ,and the minstrel     
smiled1 but ,paul saw that his eyes were
 full of tears4  ,then all at once the  
minstrel struck the lute swiftly and    

largely1 and sang a song of those that  
march to victory1 not elated nor        
excited1 but strong to dare and to do2  
and ,paul felt his heart beat within    
him1 and he longed to be of the company4
 ,after he had sung this to an end1     
there was a silence1 and the minstrel   
said to ,paul1 yet as though half       
speaking to himself1 ,there1 my son1 ,i 
have given you a specimen of my art2 and
 ,i think from your look that you might 
be of the number of those that make     
these rich jewels that men call songs2  
and should you try to do so1 be mindful 
of these two things3 let them be perfect
 first4 ,you will make many that are not
 perfect4 ,in some the soul will be     
wanting2 in others the body1 in a manner
 of speaking1 will be amiss2 for they   
are living things1 these songs1 and he  
that makes them is a kind of god4 ,well1
 if you cannot mend one1 throw it aside 
and think no more of it4 ,do not save it
 because it has some gracious touch1 for
 in this are the masters of the craft   

different from the mere makers of songs4
 ,the master will have nothing but what 
is perfect within and without1 while the
 lesser craftsman will save a poor song 
for the sake of a fine line or phrase4  
,and next1 you must do it for the love  
of your art1 and not for the praise it  
wins you4 ,that is a poisoned wine1 of  
which if you drink1 you will never know 
the pure and high tranquillity of spirit
 that befits a master4 ,the master may  
be discouraged and troubled oft1 but he 
must have in his soul a blessed peace1  
and know the worth and beauty of what he
 does2 for there is nothing nobler than 
to make beautiful things1 and to        
enlighten the generous heart4 ,fighting 
is a fair trade1 and though it is noble 
in much1 yet its end is to destroy2 but 
the master of song mars nought1 but     
makes joy2--and that is the end of my   
sermon for the time4 ,and now1 he added 
briskly1 ,i must be going1 for ,i have  
far to fare2 but ,i shall pass by this  
way again1 and shall inquire of your    

welfare2 tell me your name and where you
 live4 ,so ,paul told him1 and then     
added timidly enough that he would fain 
know how to begin to practise his art4  
,silence6 said the minstrel1 rather     
fiercely2 that is an evil and timorous  
thought4 ,if you are worthy1 you will   
find the way4 ,and so in the hot        
afternoon he said farewell1 and walked  
lightly off4 ,and ,paul stood in wonder 
and hope1 and saw the two figures leave 
the flat1 take to the down1 and wind up 
the steep road1 ever growing smaller1   
till they topped the ridge1 where they  
seemed to stand a moment larger than    
human2 and presently they were lost from
 view4  ,so ,paul made his way home2 and
 when he pushed the gate of ,heritage   
open1 he wondered to think that he could
 recollect nothing of the road he had   
traversed4 ,he went up to the house and 
entered the hall4 ,there sate ,mistress 
,alison1 reading in a little book4 ,she 
closed it as he came in1 and looked at  
him with a smile4 ,paul went up to her  

and said1 ,mother 7so he was used to    
call her71 ,i have heard songs to-day   
such as ,i never dreamt of1 and ,i pray 
you to let me learn the art of making   
music2 ,i must be a minstrel4 ',must' is
 a grave word1 dear heart1 said         
,mistress ,alison1 looking somewhat     
serious2 but let me hear your story     
first4 ,so ,paul told of his meeting    
with the minstrel4 ,mistress ,alison    
sate musing a long time1 smiling when   
she met ,paul's eye1 till he said at    
last1 ,will you not speak1 mother8 ,i   
know1 she said at last1 whom you have   
met1 dear child--that is ,mark1 the     
great minstrel4 ,he travels about the   
land1 for he is a restless man1 though  
the king himself would have him dwell in
 his court1 and make music for him4 ,yet
 ,i have looked for this day1 though it 
has come when ,i did not expect it4 ,and
 now ,i must tell you a story1 ,paul1 in
 my turn4 ,many years ago there was a   
boy like you1 and he loved music too and
 the making of songs1 and he grew to    

great skill therein4 ,but it was at last
 his ruin1 for he got to love riotous   
company and feasting too well2 and so   
his skill forsook him1 as it does those 
that live not cleanly and nobly4 ,and he
 married a young wife1 having won her by
 his songs1 and a child was born to     
them4 ,but the minstrel fell sick and   
presently died1 and his last prayer was 
that his son might not know the         
temptation of song4 ,and his wife       
lingered a little1 but she soon pined   
away1 for her heart was broken within   
her2 and she too died4 ,and now1 ,paul1 
listen1 for the truth must be told--you 
are that child1 the son of sorrow and   
tears4 ,and here you have lived with me 
all your life2 but because the tale was 
a sad one1 ,i have forborne to tell it  
you4 ,i have waited and wondered to see 
whether the gift of the father is given 
to the son2 and sometimes ,i have       
thought it might be yours1 and sometimes
 ,i have doubted4 ,and now1 child1 we   
will talk of this no more to-day1 for it

 is ill to decide in haste4 ,think well 
over what ,i have said1 and see if it   
makes a difference in your wishes4 ,i   
have told you all the tale4  ,now the   
story that ,mistress ,alison had told   
him dwelt very much in ,paul's mind that
 night2 but it seemed to him strange and
 far off1 and he did not doubt what the 
end should be4 ,it was as though the    
sight of the minstrel1 his songs and    
words1 had opened a window in his mind1 
and that he saw out of it a strange and 
enchanted country1 of woods and streams1
 with a light of evening over it1       
bounded by far-off hills1 all blue and  
faint1 among which some beautiful thing 
was hidden for him to find2 it seemed to
 call him softly to come2 the trees     
smiled upon him1 the voice of the       
streams bade him make haste--it all     
waited for him1 like a country waiting  
for its lord to come and take           
possession4  ,then it seemed to him that
 his soul slipped like a bird from the  
window1 and rising in the air over that 

magical land1 beat its wings softly in  
the pale heaven2 and then like a dove   
that knows1 by some inborn mysterious   
art1 which way its path lies1 his spirit
 paused upon the breeze1 and then sailed
 out across the tree-tops4 ,whither8    
,paul knew not4 ,and so at last he      
slipped into a quiet sleep4  ,he woke in
 the morning all of a sudden1 with a    
kind of tranquil joy and purpose2 and   
when he was dressed1 and gone into the  
hall1 he found ,mistress ,alison sitting
 in her chair beside the table laid for 
their meal4 ,she was silent and looked  
troubled1 and ,paul went up softly to   
her1 and kissed her and said1 ,i have   
chosen4 ,she did not need to ask him    
what he had chosen1 but put her arm     
about him and said1 ,then1 dear ,paul1  
be content--and we will have one more   
day together1 the last of the old days2 
and to-morrow shall the new life begin4 
,so the two passed a long and quiet day 
together4 ,for to the wise and          
loving-hearted woman this was the last  

of sweet days1 and her soul went out to 
the past with a great hunger of love2   
but she stilled it as was her wont1     
saying to herself that this dear passage
 of life had hitherto only been like the
 clear trickling of a woodland spring1  
while the love of the ,father's heart   
was as it were a great river of love    
marching softly to a wide sea1 on which 
river the very world itself floated like
 a flower-bloom between widening banks4 
,and indeed if any had watched them that
 day1 it would have seemed that she was 
the serener2 for the thought of the life
 that lay before him worked like wine in
 the heart of ,paul1 and he could only  
by an effort bring himself back to      
loving looks and offices of tenderness4 
,they spent the whole day together1 for 
the most part in a peaceful silence2 and
 at last the sun went down1 and a cool  
breeze came up out of the west1 laden   
with scent from miles and miles of grass
 and flowers1 which seemed to bear with 
it the fragrant breath of myriads of    

sweet living things4  ,then they ate    
together what was the last meal they    
were to take thus alone4 ,and at last   
,mistress ,alison would have ,paul go to
 rest4 ,and so she took his hand in     
hers1 and said1 ,dear child1 the good   
years are over now2 but you will not    
forget them2 only lean upon the ,father1
 for ,he is very strong2 and remember   
that though the voice of melody is      
sweet1 yet the loving heart is deeper   
yet4 ,and then ,paul suddenly broke out 
into a passion of weeping1 and kissed   
his old friend on hand and cheek and    
lips2 and then he burst away1 ashamed1  
if the truth be told1 that his love was 
not deeper than he found it to be4  ,he 
slept a light sleep that night1 his head
 pillowed on his hand1 with many strange
 dreams ranging through his head4 ,among
 other fancies1 some sweet1 some dark1  
he heard a delicate passage of melody   
played1 it seemed to him1 by three      
silver-sounding flutes1 so delicate that
 he could hardly contain himself for    

gladness2 but among his sadder dreams   
was one of a little man habited like a  
minstrel who played an ugly enchanted   
kind of melody on a stringed lute1 and  
smiled a treacherous smile at him2 ,paul
 woke in a sort of fever of the spirit2 
and rising from his bed1 felt the floor 
cool to his feet1 and drew his curtain  
aside2 in a tender radiance of dawn he  
saw the barn1 deep in shadow1 in the    
little garden2 and over them a little   
wood-end that he knew well by day--a    
simple place enough--but now it had a   
sort of magical dreaming air2 the mist  
lay softly about it like the breath of  
sleep2 and the trees1 stretching        
wistfully their leafy arms1 seemed to   
him to be full of silent prayer1 or to  
be hiding within them some divine secret
 that might not be shown to mortal eyes4
 ,he looked long at this2 and presently 
went back to his bed1 and shivered in a 
delicious warmth1 while outside1 very   
gradually1 came the peaceful stir of    
morning4 ,a bird or two fluted drowsily 

in the bushes2 then another further away
 would join his slender song2 a cock    
crew cheerily in a distant grange1 and  
soon it was broad day4 ,presently the   
house began to be softly astir2 and the 
faint fragrance of an early kindled fire
 of wood stole into the room4 ,then worn
 out by his long vigil he fell asleep   
again2 and soon waking1 knew it to be   
later than was his wont1 and dressed    
with haste4 ,he came down1 and heard    
voices in the hall2 he went in1 and     
there saw ,mistress ,alison in her      
chair2 and on the hearth1 talking gaily 
and cheerily1 stood ,mark the minstrel4 
,they made a pause when he came in4     
,mark extended his hand1 which ,paul    
took with a kind of reverence4 ,then    
,mistress ,alison1 with her sweet old   
smile1 said to ,paul1 ,so you made a    
pilgrimage to the ,well of the ,heart's 
,desire1 dear ,paul8 ,well1 you have    
your wish1 and very soon2 for here is a 
master for you1 if you will serve him4  
,not a light service1 ,paul1 said ,mark 

gravely1 but a true one4 ,i can take you
 with me when you may go1 for my boy    
,jack is fallen sick with a stroke of   
the sun1 and must bide at home awhile4  
,they looked at ,paul1 to see what he   
would say4 ,oh1 ,i will go gladly1 he   
said1 if ,i may4 ,and then he felt he   
had not spoken lovingly2 so he kissed   
,mistress ,alison1 who smiled1 but      
somewhat sadly1 and said1 ,yes1         
,paul--,i understand4  ,so when the meal
 was over1 ,paul's small baggage was    
made ready1 and he kissed ,mistress     
,alison--and then she said to ,mark with
 a sudden look1 ,you will take care of  
him8 ,oh1 he shall be safe with me1 said
 ,mark1 and if he be apt and faithful1  
he shall learn his trade1 as few can    
learn it4 ,and then ,paul said his      
good-bye1 and walked away with ,mark2   
and his heart was so full of gladness   
that he stepped out lightly and         
blithely1 and hardly looked back4 ,but  
at the turn of the road he stopped1     
while ,mark seemed to consider him      

gravely4 ,the three that were to abide1 
,mistress ,alison1 and the maid1 and the
 old gardener1 stood at the door and    
waved their hands2 the old house seemed 
to look fondly out of its windows at    
him1 as though it had a heart2 and the  
very trees seemed to wave him a soft    
farewell4 ,paul waved his hand too1 and 
a tear came into his eyes2 but he was   
eager to be gone2 and indeed1 in his    
heart1 he felt almost jealous of even   
the gentle grasp of his home upon his   
heart4 ,and so ,mark and ,paul set out  
for the south4     ,,ii   ,of the life  
that ,paul lived with ,mark ,i must not 
here tell2 but before he grew to full   
manhood he had learned his art well4    
,mark was a strict master1 but not      
impatient4 ,the only thing that angered 
him was carelessness or listlessness2   
and ,paul was an apt and untiring pupil1
 and learnt so easily and deftly that   
,mark was often astonished4 ,how did you
 learn that8 he said one day suddenly to
 ,paul when the boy was practising on   

the lute1 and played a strange soft     
cadence1 of a kind that ,mark had never 
heard4 ,the boy was startled by the     
question1 for he had not thought that   
,mark was listening to him4 ,he looked  
up with a blush and turned his eyes on  
,mark4 ,is it not right8 he said4 ,i did
 not learn it2 it comes from somewhere  
in my mind4  ,paul learnt to play       
several instruments1 both wind and      
string4 ,sometimes he loved one sort the
 best1 sometimes the other4 ,the wind   
instruments of wood had to him a kind of
 soft magic1 like the voice of a gentle 
spirit1 a spirit that dwelt in lonely   
unvisited places1 and communed more with
 things of earth than the hearts of men4
 ,in the flutes and bassoons seemed to  
him to dwell the voices of airs that    
murmured in the thickets1 the soft      
gliding of streams1 the crooning of     
serene birds1 the peace of noonday1 the 
welling of clear springs1 the beauty of 
little waves1 the bright thoughts of    
stars4 ,sometimes in certain modes1 they

 could be sad1 but it was the sadness of
 lonely homeless things1 old dreaming   
spirits of wind and wave1 not the       
sadness of such things as had known love
 and lost what they had loved1 but the  
melancholy of such forlorn beings as by 
their nature were shut out from the love
 that dwells about the firelit hearth   
and the old roofs of homesteads4 ,it was
 the sadness of the wind that wails in  
desolate places1 knowing that it is     
lonely1 but not knowing what it desires2
 or the soft sighing of trees that      
murmur all together in a forest1        
dreaming each its own dream1 but with no
 thought of comradeship or desire4  ,the
 metal instruments1 out of which the    
cunning breath could draw bright music1 
seemed to him soulless too in a sort1   
but shrill and enlivening4 ,these       
clarions and trumpets spoke to him of   
brisk morning winds1 or the cold sharp  
plunge of green waves that leap in      
triumph upon rocks4 ,to such sounds he  
fancied warriors marching out at        

morning1 with the joy of fight in their 
hearts1 meaning to deal great blows1 to 
slay and be slain1 and hardly thinking  
of what would come after1 so sharp and  
swift an eagerness of spirit held them2 
but these instruments he loved less4    
,best of all he loved the resounding    
strings that could be twanged by the    
quill1 or swept into a heavenly melody  
by the finger-tips1 or throb beneath the
 strongly-drawn bow4 ,in all of these   
lay the secrets of the heart2 in these  
,paul heard speak the bright dreams of  
the child1 the vague hopes of growing   
boy or girl1 the passionate desires of  
love1 the silent loyalty of equal       
friendship1 the dreariness of the       
dejected spirit1 whose hopes have set   
like the sun smouldering to his fall1   
the rebellious grief of the heart that  
loses what it loves1 the darkening fears
 that begin to roll about the ageing    
mind1 like clouds that weep on mountain 
tops1 and the despair of sinners1       
finding the evil too strong4  ,best of  

all it was when all these instruments   
could conspire together to weave a      
sudden dream of beauty that seemed to   
guard a secret4 ,what was the secret8   
,it seemed so near to ,paul sometimes1  
as if he were like a man very near the  
edge of some mountain from which he may 
peep into an unknown valley4 ,sometimes 
it was far away4 ,but it was there1 he  
doubted not1 though it hid itself4 ,it  
was like a dance of fairies in a forest 
glade1 which a man could half discern   
through the screening leaves2 but1 when 
he gains the place1 he sees nothing but 
tall flowers with drooping bells1 bushes
 set with buds1 large-leaved herbs1 all 
with a silent1 secret1 smiling air1 as  
though they said1 ,we have seen1 we     
could tell4  ,paul seemed very near this
 baffling secret at times2 in the dewy  
silence of mornings1 just before the sun
 comes up1 when familiar woods and trees
 stand in a sort of musing happiness2 at
 night when the sky is thickly sown with
 stars1 or when the moon rises in a soft

 hush and silvers the sleeping pool2 or 
when the sun goes down in a rich pomp1  
trailing a great glow of splendour with 
him among cloudy islands1 all flushed   
with fiery red4 ,when the sun withdrew  
himself thus1 flying and flaring to the 
west1 behind the boughs of leafless     
trees1 what was the hidden secret       
presence that stood there as it were    
finger on lip1 inviting yet denying8    
,paul knew within himself that if he    
could but say or sing this1 the world   
would never forget4 ,but he could not   
yet4  ,then1 too1 ,paul learned the     
magic of words1 the melodious accent of 
letters1 sometimes so sweet1 sometimes  
so harsh2 then the growing phrase1 the  
word that beckons as it were other words
 to join it trippingly2 the thought that
 draws the blood to the brain1 and sets 
the heart beating swiftly--he learned   
the words that sound like far-off bells1
 or that wake a gentle echo in the      
spirit1 the words that burn into the    
heart1 and make the hearer ashamed of   

all that is hard and low4 ,but he       
learned1 too1 that the craftsman in     
words must not build up his song word by
 word1 as a man fetches bricks to make a
 wall2 but that he must see the whole   
thought clear first1 in a kind of divine
 flash1 so that when he turns for words 
to write it1 he finds them piled to his 
hand4  ,all these things ,paul learnt1  
and day by day he suffered all the sweet
 surprises and joys of art4 ,there were 
days that were not so1 when the strings 
jangled aimlessly1 and seemed to have no
 soul in them2 days when it appeared    
that the cloud could not lift1 as though
 light and music together were dead in  
the world--but these days were few2 and 
,paul growing active and strong1 caring 
little what he ate and drank1 tasting no
 wine1 because it fevered him at first1 
and then left him ill at ease1 knowing  
no evil or luxurious thoughts1 sleeping 
lightly and hardly1 found his spirits   
very pure and plentiful2 or if he was   
sad1 it was a clear sadness that had    

something beautiful within it1 and dwelt
 not on any past grossness of his own1  
but upon the thought that all beautiful 
things can but live for a time1 and must
 then be laid away in the darkness and  
in the cold4  ,so ,paul grew up knowing 
neither friendship nor love1 only       
stirred at the sight of a beautiful     
face1 a shapely hand1 or a slender form2
 by a grateful wonder for what was so   
fair2 untainted by any desire to master 
it1 or make it his own2 living only for 
his art1 and with a sort of blind       
devotion to ,mark1 whom he soon         
excelled1 though he knew it not4 ,mark  
once said to him1 when ,paul had made a 
song of some old forgotten sorrow1 ,how 
do you know all this1 boy8 ,you have not
 suffered1 you have not lived6 ,oh1 said
 ,paul gaily1 knowing it to be praise1  
my heart tells me it is so4  ,paul1 too1
 as he grew to manhood1 found himself   
with a voice that was not loud1 but     
true--a voice that thrilled those who   
heard it through and through2 but it    

seemed strange that he felt not what he 
made other men feel2 rather his music   
was like a still pool that can reflect  
all that is above it1 the sombre tree1  
the birds that fly over1 the starry     
silence of the night1 the angry redness 
of the dawn4  ,it was on one of his     
journeys with ,mark that the news of    
,mistress ,alison's death reached him4  
,mark told him very carefully and       
tenderly1 and while he repeated the     
three or four broken words in which     
,mistress ,alison had tried to send a   
last message to ,paul--for the end had  
come very suddenly--,mark himself found 
his voice falter1 and his eyes fill with
 tears4 ,paul had1 at that sight1 cried 
a little2 but his life at the ,house of 
,heritage seemed to have faded swiftly  
out of his thoughts2 he was living very 
intently in the present1 scaling1 as it 
were1 day by day1 with earnest effort1  
the steep ladder of song4 ,he thought a 
little upon ,mistress ,alison1 and on   
all her love and goodness3 but it was   

with a tranquil sorrow1 and not with the
 grief and pain of loss4 ,mark was very 
gentle with him for awhile2 and this    
indeed did shame ,paul a little1 to find
 himself being used so lovingly for a   
sorrow which he was hardly feeling4 ,but
 he said to himself that sorrow must    
come unbidden1 and that it was no sorrow
 that was made with labour and          
intention4 ,he was a little angered with
 himself for his dulness--but then song 
was so beautiful1 that he could think of
 nothing else2 he was dazzled4  ,a      
little while after1 ,mark asked him     
whether1 as they were near at hand1 he  
would turn aside to see ,mistress       
,alison's grave4 ,and ,paul said1 ,no2  
,i would rather feel it were all as it  
used to be6--and then seeing that ,mark 
looked surprised and almost grieved1    
,paul1 with the gentle hypocrisy of     
childhood1 said1 ,i cannot bear it yet1 
which made ,mark silent1 and he said no 
more1 but used ,paul more gently than   
ever4  ,one day ,mark said to him1 very 

gravely1 as if he had long been         
pondering the matter1 ,it is time for me
 to take another pupil1 ,paul4 ,i have  
taught you all ,i know2 indeed you have 
learned far more than ,i can teach4     
,then he told him that he had arranged  
all things meetly4 ,that there was a    
certain ,duke who lacked a minstrel1 and
 that ,paul should go and abide with    
him4 ,that he should have his room at   
the castle1 and should be held in great 
honour1 making music only when he would4
 ,and then ,mark would have added some  
words of love1 for he loved ,paul as a  
son4 ,but ,paul seemed to have no hunger
 in his heart1 no thought of the days   
they had spent together2 so ,mark said  
them not4 ,but he added very gently1    
,and one thing1 ,paul1 ,i must tell you4
 ,you will be a great master--indeed you
 are so already--and ,i can tell you    
nothing about the art that you do not   
know4 ,but one thing ,i will tell       
you--that you have a human heart within 
you that is not yet awake3 and when it  

awakes1 it will be very strong2 so that 
a great combat1 ,i think1 lies before   
you4 ,see that it overcome you not6 ,and
 ,paul said wondering1 ,oh1 ,i have a   
heart1 but it is altogether given to    
song4 ,and so ,mark was silent4  ,then  
,paul went to the ,duke's ,castle of    
,wresting and abode with him year after 
year4 ,here1 too1 he made no friend2 he 
was gracious with all1 and of a lofty   
courtesy1 so that he was had in         
reverence2 and he made such music that  
the tears would come into the eyes of   
those who heard him1 and they would look
 at each other1 and wonder how ,paul    
could thus tell the secret hopes of the 
heart4 ,there were many women in the    
castle1 great ladies1 young maidens1 and
 those that attended on them4 ,some of  
these would have proffered love to      
,paul1 but their glances fell before a  
certain cold1 virginal1 almost affronted
 look1 that he turned to meet any smile 
or gesture that seemed to hold in it any
 personal claim1 or to offer any gift   

but that of an equal and serene         
friendship4 ,as a maiden of the castle  
once said1 provoked by his coldness1    
,sir ,paul seems to have everything to  
say to all of us1 but nothing to any one
 of us4 ,he was kind to all with a sort 
of great and distant courtesy that was  
too secure even to condescend4 ,and so  
the years passed away4     ,,iii   ,it  
was nearly noon at the ,castle of       
,wresting1 and the whole house was      
deserted1 for the ,duke had ridden out  
at daybreak to the hunt2 and all that   
could find a horse to ride had gone with
 him2 and1 for it was not far afield1   
all else that could walk had gone afoot4
 ,so bright and cheerful a day was it   
that the ,duchess had sent out her      
pavilion to be pitched in a lawn in the 
wood1 and the ,duke with his friends    
were to dine there2 none were left in   
the castle save a few of the elder      
serving-maids1 and the old porter1 who  
was lame4 ,about midday1 however1 it    
seemed that one had been left2 for      

,paul1 now a tall man1 strongly built   
and comely1 yet with a somewhat dreamful
 air1 as though he pondered difficult   
things within himself1 and a troubled   
brow1 under which looked out large and  
gentle eyes1 came with a quick step down
 a stairway4 ,he turned neither to right
 nor left1 but passed through the       
porter's lodge4 ,here the road from the 
town came up into the castle on the     
left1 cut steeply in the hill1 and you  
could see the red roofs laid out like a 
map beneath1 with the church and the    
bridge2 to the right ran a little       
terrace under the wall4 ,paul came      
through the lodge1 nodding gravely to   
the porter1 who returned his salute with
 a kind of reverence2 then he walked on 
to the terrace1 and stood for a moment  
leaning against the low wall that       
bounded it2 below him lay for miles the 
great wood of ,wresting1 now all ablaze 
with the brave gold of autumn leaves2   
here was a great tract of beeches all   
rusty red2 there was the pale gold of   

elms4 ,the forest lay in the plain1 here
 and there broken by clearings or open  
glades2 in one or two places could be   
seen the roofs of villages1 with the    
tower of a church rising gravely among  
trees4 ,on the horizon ran a blue line  
of downs1 pure and fine above the       
fretted gold of the forest4 ,the air was
 very still1 with a fresh sparkle in it1
 and the sun shone bright in a cloudless
 heaven2 it was a day when the heaviest 
heart grows light1 and when it seems the
 bravest thing that can be designed to  
be alive4  ,once or twice1 as ,paul     
leaned to look1 there came from the     
wood1 very far away1 the faint notes of 
a horn2 he smiled to hear it1 and it    
seemed as though some merry thought came
 into his head1 for he beat cheerfully  
with his fingers on the parapet4        
,presently he seemed to bethink himself1
 and then walked briskly to the end of  
the terrace1 where was a little door in 
the wall2 he pushed this open1 and found
 himself at the head of a flight of     

stone steps1 with low walls on either   
hand1 that ran turning and twisting     
according to the slope of the hill1 down
 into the wood4  ,paul went lightly down
 the steps2 once or twice he turned and 
looked up at the grey walls and towers  
of the castle1 rising from the steep    
green turf at their foot1 above the     
great leafless trees--for the trees on  
the slope lost their leaves first in the
 wind4 ,the sight pleased him1 for he   
smiled again4 ,then he stood for a      
moment1 lower down1 to watch the great  
limbs and roots of a huge beech that    
seemed to cling to the slope for fear of
 slipping downwards4 ,he came presently 
to a little tower at the bottom that    
guarded the steps4 ,the door was locked2
 he knocked1 and there came out an old  
woman with a merry wrinkled face1 who   
opened it for him with a key1 saying1   
,do you go to the hunt1 ,sir ,paul8     
,nay1 he said smiling1 only to walk a   
little alone in the wood4 ,to make      
music1 perhaps8 said the old woman      

shyly4 ,perhaps1 said ,paul smiling1 if 
the music come--but it will not always  
come for the wishing4  ,as ,paul walked 
in the deep places of the wood1 little  
by little his fresh holiday mood died   
away1 and there crept upon him a shadow 
of thought that had of late been no     
stranger to him4 ,he asked himself1 with
 some bitterness1 what his life was     
tending to4 ,there was no loss of skill 
in his art2 indeed it was easier to him 
than ever2 he had a rich and prodigal   
store of music in him1 music both of    
word and sound1 that came at his call4  
,but the zest was leaving him4 ,he had  
attained to his utmost desire1 and in   
his art there was nothing more to       
conquer4 ,but as he looked round about  
him and saw all the beautiful chains of 
love multiplying themselves about those 
among whom he lived1 he began to wonder 
whether he was not after all missing    
life itself4 ,he saw children born1 he  
saw them growing up2 then they1 too1    
found their own path of love1 they      

married1 or were given in marriage2     
presently they had children of their    
own2 and even death itself1 that carried
 well-loved souls into the dark world1  
seemed to forge new chains of faith and 
loyalty4 ,all this he could say and did 
say in his music4 ,he knew it1 he       
divined it by some magical instinct2 he 
could put into words and sounds the     
secrets that others could not utter--and
 there his art stopped4 ,it could not   
bring him within the charmed            
circle--nay1 it seemed to him that it   
was even like a fence that kept him     
outside4 ,he looked forward to a time   
when his art of itself must fade1 when  
other minstrels should arise with new   
secrets of power2 and what would become 
of him then8  ,he had by this time      
walked very far into the wood1 and as he
 came down through a little rise1       
covered with leafy thickets1 he saw     
before him a green track1 that wound    
away among the trees4 ,he followed it   
listlessly4 ,the track led him through a

 beech wood2 the smooth and shapely     
stems1 that stood free of undergrowth1  
thickly roofed over by firm and glossy  
autumn foliage1 with the rusty fallen   
floor of last year's leaves underfoot1  
brought back to him his delight in the  
sweet and fresh world--so beautiful     
whatever the restless human heart       
desired in its presence4  ,he became    
presently aware that he was approaching 
some dwelling1 he knew not what2 and    
then the trees grew thinner2 and in a   
minute he was out in a little forest    
clearing1 where stood1 in a small and   
seemly garden1 inclosed with hedges and 
low walls and a moat1 a forest lodge1 a 
long low ancient building1 ending in a  
stone tower4  ,the place had a singular 
charm4 ,the ancient battlemented house1 
overgrown with ivy1 the walls green and 
grey with lichens1 seemed to have sprung
 as naturally out of the soil as the    
trees among which it stood1 and to have 
become one with the place4 ,he lingered 
for a moment on the edge of the moat1   

looking at a little tower that rose out 
of the pool1 mirrored softly in the open
 spaces of the water1 among the         
lily-leaves4 ,the whole place seemed to 
have a wonderful peace about it2 there  
was no sound but the whisper of leaves1 
and the doves crooning1 in their high   
branching fastnesses1 a song of peace4  
,as ,paul stood thus and looked upon the
 garden1 a door opened1 and there came  
out a lady1 not old1 but well advanced  
in years1 with a shrewd and kindly face2
 and then ,paul felt a sort of shame    
within him1 for standing and spying at  
what was not his own2 and he would have 
hurried away1 but the lady waved her    
hand to him with a courtly air1 as      
though inviting him to approach4 ,so he 
came forward1 and crossing the moat by a
 little bridge that was hard by1 he met 
her at the gate4 ,he doffed his hat1 and
 said a few words asking pardon for thus
 intruding on a private place1 but she  
gave him a swift smile and said1 ,sir   
,paul1 no more of this--you are known to

 me1 though you know me not4 ,i have    
been at the ,duke's as a guest2 ,i have 
heard you sing--indeed1 she added       
smiling1 ,i have been honoured by having
 been made known to the prince of       
musical men--but he hath forgotten my   
poor self2 ,i am the ,lady ,beckwith1   
who welcomes you to her poor house--the 
,isle of ,thorns1 as they call it--and  
will deem it an honour that you should  
set foot therein2 though ,i think that  
you came not for my sake4  ,alas1 madam1
 no1 said ,paul smiling too4 ,i did but 
walk solitary in the forest2 ,i am      
lacking in courtesy1 ,i fear2 ,i knew   
not that there was a house here1 but it 
pleased me to see it lie like a jewel in
 the wood4  ,you knew not it was here1  
or you would have shunned it6 said the  
,lady ,beckwith with a smile4 ,well1 ,i 
live here solitary enough with my       
daughters--my husband is long since     
dead--but to-day we must have a         
guest--you will enter and tarry with us 
a little8  ,yes1 very willingly1 said   

,paul1 who1 like many men that care not 
much for company1 was tenderly courteous
 when there was no escape4 ,so after    
some further passages of courtesy1 they 
went within4  ,the ,lady ,beckwith led  
him into a fair tapestried room1 and    
bade him be seated1 while she went to   
call upon her servants to make ready    
refreshments for him4 ,paul seated      
himself in an oak chair and looked      
around him4 ,the place was but scantily 
furnished1 but ,paul had pleasure in    
looking upon the old solid furniture1   
which reminded him of the ,house of     
,heritage and of his far-off boyhood4   
,he was pleased1 too1 with the tapestry1
 which represented a wood of            
walnut-trees1 and a man that sate       
looking upon a stream as though he      
listened2 and then ,paul discerned the  
figure of a brave bird wrought among the
 leaves1 that seemed to sing2 while he  
looked1 he heard the faint sound in a   
room above of some one moving2 then a   
lute was touched1 and then there rose a 

soft voice1 very pure and clear1 that   
sang a short song of long sweet notes1  
with a descant on the lute1 ending in a 
high drawn-out note1 that went to       
,paul's heart like wine poured forth1   
and seemed to fill the room with a kind 
of delicate fragrance4  ,presently the  
,lady ,beckwith returned2 and they sate 
and talked awhile1 till there came      
suddenly into the room a maiden that    
seemed to ,paul like a rose2 she came   
almost eagerly forward2 and ,paul knew  
in his mind that it was she that had    
sung2 and there passed through his heart
 a feeling he had never known before2 it
 was as though it were a string that    
thrilled with a kind of delicious pain  
at being bidden by the touch of a finger
 to utter its voice4  ,this is my       
daughter ,margaret2 said the ,lady      
,beckwith2 she knows your fame in song1 
but she has never had the fortune to    
hear you sing1 and she loves song       
herself4  ,and does more than love it1  
said ,paul almost tremblingly1 feeling  

the eyes of the maiden set upon his     
face2 for ,i heard but now a lute       
touched1 and a voice that sang a melody 
,i know not1 as few that ,i know could  
have sung it4  ,the maiden stood smiling
 at him1 and then ,paul saw that she    
carried a lute in her hand2 and she said
 eagerly1 ,will you not sing to us1 ,sir
 ,paul8  ,nay1 said the ,lady ,beckwith 
smiling1 but this is beyond courtesy6   
,it is to ask a prince to our house1 and
 beg for the jewels that he wears4  ,the
 maiden blushed rosy red1 and put the   
lute by2 but ,paul stretched out his    
hand for it4 ,i will sing most          
willingly1 he said4 ,what is my life    
for1 but to make music for those who    
would hear8  ,he touched a few chords to
 see that the lute was well tuned2 and  
the lute obeyed his touch like a living 
thing2 and then ,paul sang a song of    
spring-time that made the hearts of the 
pair dance with joy4 ,when he had       
finished1 he smiled1 meeting the smiles 
of both2 and said1 ,and now we will have

 a sad song--for those are ever the     
sweetest--joy needs not to be made      
sweet4  ,so he sang a sorrowful song    
that he had made one winter day1 when he
 had found the body of a little bird    
that had died of the frost and the hard 
silence of the unfriendly earth--a song 
of sweet things broken and good times   
gone by2 and before he had finished he  
had brought the tears to the eyes of the
 pair4 ,the ,lady ,beckwith brushed them
 aside--but the girl sate watching him1 
her hands together1 and a kind of       
worship in her face1 with the bright    
tears trembling on her cheeks4 ,and     
,paul thought he had never seen a fairer
 thing2 but wishing to dry the tears he 
made a little merry song1 like the song 
of gnats that dance up and down in the  
sun1 and love their silly play--so that 
the two smiled again4  ,then they       
thanked him very urgently1 and ,margaret
 said1 ,if only dear ,helen could hear  
this2 and the ,lady ,beckwith said1     
,helen is my other daughter1 and she    

lies abed1 and may not come forth4      
,then they put food before him2 and they
 ate together1 ,margaret serving him    
with meat and wine2 and ,paul would have
 forbidden it1 but the ,lady ,beckwith  
said1 ,that is the way of our house--and
 you are our guest and must be          
content--for ,margaret loves to serve   
you4 ,the girl said little1 but as she  
moved about softly and deftly1 with the 
fragrance of youth about her1 ,paul had 
a desire to draw her to him1 that made  
him ashamed and ill at ease4 ,so the    
hours sped swiftly4 ,the maiden talked  
little1 but the ,lady ,beckwith had much
 matter for little speech2 she asked    
,paul many questions1 and told him      
something of her own life1 and how1     
while the good ,sir ,harry1 her husband1
 lived1 she had been much with the      
world1 but now lived a quiet life1 ,like
 a wrinkled apple-tree behind a house1  
she added with a smile1 guarding my     
fruit1 till it be plucked from the      
bough4 ,and she went on to say that     

though she had feared1 when she entered 
the quiet life1 the days would hang     
heavy1 yet there never seemed time      
enough for all the small businesses that
 she was fain to do4  ,when the day     
began to fall1 and the shadows of the   
trees out of the forest began to draw   
nearer across the lawn1 ,paul rose and  
said1 ,come1 ,i will sing you a song of 
farewell and thanks for this day of     
pleasure1 and he made them a cheerful   
ditty2 and so took his leave1 the ,lady 
,beckwith saying that they would speak  
of his visit for many days--and that she
 hoped that if his fancy led him again  
through the wood1 he would come to them2
 ,for you will find an open door1 and a 
warm hearth1 and friends who look for   
you4 ,so ,paul went1 and walked through 
the low red sunset with a secret joy in 
his heart2 and never had he sung so     
merrily as he sang that night in the    
hall of the ,duke2 so that the ,duke    
said smiling that they must often go    
a-hunting1 and leave ,sir ,paul behind1 

for that seemed to fill him to the brim 
with divine melody4  ,now ,paul that    
night1 before he laid him down to sleep1
 stood awhile1 and made a prayer in his 
heart4 ,it must be said that as a child 
he had prayed night and morning1 in     
simple words that ,mistress ,alison had 
taught him1 but in the years when he was
 with ,mark the custom had died away2   
for ,mark prayed not1 and indeed had    
almost an enmity to churches and to     
priests1 saying that they made men bound
 who would otherwise be free2 and he had
 said to ,paul once that he prayed the  
best who lived nobly and generously1 and
 made most perfect whatever gift he had2
 who was kind and courteous1 and used   
all men the same1 whether old or young1 
great or little2 adding1 ,that is my    
creed1 and not the creed of the         
priests--but ,i would not have you take 
it from me thus--a man may not borrow   
the secret of another's heart1 and wear 
it for his own4 ,all faiths are good    
that make a man live cleanly and        

lovingly and laboriously2 and just as   
all men like not the same music1 so all 
men are not suited with the same faith2 
we all tend to the same place1 but by   
different ways2 and each man should find
 the nearest way for him4 ,paul1 after  
that1 had followed his own heart in the 
matter2 and it led him not wholly in the
 way of the priests1 but not against    
them1 as it led ,mark4 ,paul took some  
delight in the ordered solemnities of   
the ,church1 the dark coolness of the   
arched aisles1 the holy smell--he felt  
there the nearer to ,god4 ,and to be    
near to ,god was what ,paul desired2 but
 he gave up praying at formal seasons1  
and spoke with ,god in his heart1 as a  
man might speak to his friend1 whenever 
he was moved to speak2 he asked ,his aid
 before the making of a song2 he told   
,him when he was disheartened1 or when  
he desired what he ought not2 he spoke  
to ,him when he had done anything of    
which he was ashamed2 and he told ,him  
of his dreams and of his joys4          

,sometimes he would speak thus for half 
a day together1 and feel a quiet        
comfort1 like a strong arm round him2   
but sometimes he would be silent for a  
long while4  ,now this night he spoke in
 his heart to ,god1 and told him of the 
sweet and beautiful hope that had come  
to him1 and asked ,him to make known to 
him whether it was ,his will that he    
should put forth his hand1 and gather   
the flower of the wood--for he could not
 even in his secret heart bring himself 
that night to speak1 even to ,god1      
directly about the maiden2 but1 in a    
kind of soft reverence1 he used gentle  
similitudes4 ,and then he leaned from   
his window1 and strove to send his      
spirit out like a bird over the sleeping
 wood1 to light upon the tower2 and then
 his thought leapt further1 and he      
seemed to see the glimmering maiden     
chamber where she slept1 breathing      
evenly4 ,but even in thought this seemed
 to him too near1 as though the vision  
were lacking in that awful reverence1   

which is the herald of love4 ,so he     
thought that his spirit should sit1 like
 a white bird1 on the battlement1 and   
send out a quiet song4  ,and then he    
fell asleep1 and slept dreamlessly till 
the day came in through the casements2  
when he sprang up1 and joy darted into  
his heart1 as when a servitor fills a   
cup to the brim with rosy and bubbling  
wine4  ,now that day1 and the next1 and 
for several days1 ,paul thought of      
little else but the house in the wood   
and the maiden that dwelt there4 ,even  
while he read or wrote1 pictures would  
flash before his eye4 ,he saw ,margaret 
stand before him1 with the lute in her  
hand2 or he would see her as she had    
moved about serving him1 or he would see
 her as she had sate to hear him sing1  
or as she had stood at the door as he   
went forth--and all with a sweet hunger 
of the heart2 till it seemed to him that
 this was the only true thing that the  
world held1 and he would be amazed that 
he had missed it for so long4 ,that he  

was in the same world with her2 that the
 air that passed over the house in the  
wood was presently borne to the castle2 
that they two looked upon the same sky1 
and the same stars--this was all to him 
like a delicate madness that wrought    
within his brain4 ,and yet he could not 
bring himself to go thither4 ,the       
greater his longing the more he felt    
unable to go without a cause2 and yet   
the thought that there might be other   
men that visited the ,lady ,beckwith1   
and had more of the courtly and         
desirable arts of life than he1 was like
 a bitter draught--and so the days went 
on2 and never had he made richer music2 
it seemed to rush from his brain like   
the water of a full spring4  ,a few days
 after1 there was a feast at the castle 
and many were bidden2 and ,paul thought 
in his heart that the ,lady ,beckwith   
would perhaps be there4 ,so he made a   
very tender song of love to sing1 the   
song of a heart that loves and dares not
 fully speak4  ,when the hour drew on   

for the banquet1 he attired himself with
 a care which he half despised1 and when
 the great bell of the castle rang1 he  
went down his turret stairs with a light
 step4 ,the custom was for the guests to
 assemble in the great hall of the      
castle2 but they of the ,duke's         
household1 of whom ,paul was one1       
gathered in a little chamber off the    
hall4 ,then1 when the ,duke and ,duchess
 with their children came from their    
rooms1 they passed through this chamber 
into the hall1 the household following4 
,when the ,duke entered the hall1 the   
minstrels in the gallery played a merry 
tune1 and the guests stood up2 then the 
,duke would go to his place and bow to  
the guests1 the household moving to     
their places2 then the music would      
cease1 and the choir sang a grace1 all  
standing4 ,paul's place was an          
honourable one1 but he sate with his    
back to the hall2 and this night1 as    
soon as he entered the hall1 and while  
the grace was sung1 he searched with his

 eyes up and down the great tables1 but 
he could not see her whom he desired to 
see1 and the joy died out of his heart4 
,now though the ,lords and ,knights of  
the castle honoured ,paul because he was
 honoured by the ,duke1 they had little 
ease with him2 so to-night1 when ,paul  
took his place1 a ,knight that sate next
 him1 a shrewd and somewhat malicious   
man1 who loved the talk of the ,court1  
and turned all things into a jest1 said 
,how now1 ,sir ,paul8 ,you entered      
to-night full of joy2 but now you are   
like one that had expected to see a     
welcome guest and saw him not4 ,then    
,paul was vexed that his thoughts should
 be so easily read1 and said with a     
forced smile1 ,nay1 ,sir ,edwin1 we     
musical men are the slaves of our moods2
 there would be no music else2 we have  
not the bold and stubborn hearts of     
warriors born4 ,and at this there was a 
smile1 for ,sir ,edwin was not held to  
be foremost in war-like exercise4 ,but  
having thus said1 ,paul never dared turn

 his head4 ,and the banquet seemed a    
tedious and hateful thing to him4  ,but 
at last it wore to an end1 and healths  
had been drunk1 and grace was sung2 and 
then they withdrew to the ,presence     
,chamber1 where the ,duke and ,duchess  
sate upon chairs of state under a       
canopy1 and the guests sate down on     
seats and benches4 ,and presently the   
,duke sent courteous word to ,paul that 
if he would sing they would gladly hear 
him4 ,so ,paul rose in his place and    
made obeisance1 and then moved to a dais
 which was set at the end of the        
chamber2 and a page brought him his     
lute4 ,but ,paul first made a signal to 
the musicians who were set aloft in a   
gallery1 and they played a low descant2 
and ,paul sang them a war-song with all 
his might1 his voice ringing through the
 room4 ,then1 as the voice made an end1 
there was a short silence1 such as those
 who have sung or spoken from a full    
heart best love to hear--for each such  
moment of silence is like a rich jewel  

of praise--and then a loud cry of       
applause1 which was hushed in a moment  
because of the presence of the ,duke4   
,then ,paul made a bow1 and stood       
carelessly regarding the crowd2 for from
 long use he felt no uneasiness to stand
 before many eyes2 and just as he fell  
to touching his lute1 his eye fell on a 
group in a corner2 the ,lady ,beckwith  
sate there1 and beside her ,margaret2   
behind whom sate a young ,knight1 ,sir  
,richard de ,benoit by name1 the fairest
 and goodliest of all in the castle1    
whom ,paul loved well2 and he leaned    
over and said some words in the maiden's
 ear1 who looked round shyly at him with
 a little smile4  ,then ,paul put out   
all his art1 as though to recover a     
thing that he had nearly lost4 ,he      
struck a sweet chord on the lute1 and   
the talk all died away and left an utter
 silence2 and ,paul1 looking at but one 
face1 and as though he spoke but to one 
ear1 sang his song of love4 ,it was like
 a spell of magic2 men and women turned 

to each other and felt the love of their
 youth rise in their hearts as sweet as 
ever4 ,the ,duke where he sate laid a   
hand upon the ,duchess' hand and smiled4
 ,they that were old1 and had lost what 
they loved1 were moved to weeping--and  
the young men and maidens looked upon   
the ground1 or at the singer1 and felt  
the hot blood rise in their cheeks4 ,and
 ,paul1 exulting in his heart1 felt that
 he swayed the souls of those that heard
 him1 as the wind sways a field of      
wheat1 that bends all one way before it4
 ,then again came the silence1 when the 
voice ceased2 a silence into which the  
last chords of the lute sank1 like      
stones dropped into a still water4 ,and 
,paul bowed again1 and stepped down from
 the dais--and then with slow steps he  
moved to where the ,lady ,beckwith sate1
 and bowing to her1 took the chair      
beside her4  ,then came a tumbler and   
played many agile tricks before them2   
and then a company of mummers1 with the 
heads of birds and beasts1 danced and   

sported4 ,but the ,lady ,beckwith said1 
,sir ,paul1 ,i will tell you a tale4 ,a 
bird of the forest alighted at our      
window-sill some days ago1 and sang very
 sweetly to us--and we spread crumbs and
 made it a little feast2 and it seemed  
to trust us1 but presently it spread its
 wings and flew away1 and it comes not  
again4 ,tell us1 what shall we do to    
tempt the wild bird back8 ,and ,paul1   
smiling in her face1 said1 ,oh1 madam1  
the bird will return2 but he leads1     
maybe1 a toilsome life1 gathering       
berries1 and doing small businesses4    
,the birds1 which seem so free1 live a  
life of labour2 and they may not always 
follow their hearts4 ,but be sure that  
your bird knows his friends2 and some   
day1 when he has opportunity1 he will   
alight again4 ,to him his songs seem but
 a small gift1 a shallow twittering that
 can hardly please4 ,nay1 said the ,lady
 ,beckwith1 but this was a nightingale  
that knew the power of song1 and could  
touch all hearts except his own2 and    

thus1 finding love so simple a thing to 
win1 doubtless holds it light4 ,nay1    
said ,paul1 he holds it not light2 it is
 too heavy for him2 he knows it too well
 to trifle with it4  ,then finding that 
the rest were silent1 they two were     
silent4 ,and so they held broken        
discourse2 and ever the young ,knight   
spoke in ,margaret's ear1 so that ,paul 
was much distraught1 but dared not seem 
to intervene1 or to speak with the      
maiden1 when he had held aloof so long4 
,presently the ,lady ,beckwith said she 
had a boon to ask1 and that she would   
drop her parables4 ,and she said that   
her daughter ,helen1 that was sick1 had 
been very envious of them1 because she  
had not heard his songs1 but only a soft
 echo of them through the chamber floor4
 ,and perhaps1 ,sir ,paul1 she said1 if 
you will not come for friendship1 you   
will come for mercy2 and sing to my poor
 child1 who has but few joys1 a song or 
twain4 ,then ,paul's heart danced within
 him1 and he said1 ,i will come         

to-morrow4 ,and soon after that the     
,duke went out and the guests dispersed2
 and then ,paul greeted the ,lady       
,margaret1 and said a few words to her2 
but he could not please himself in what 
he said2 and that night he slept little1
 partly for thinking of what he might   
have said3 but still more for thinking  
that he would see her on the morrow4    
,so when the morning came1 ,paul went   
very swiftly through the forest to the  
,isle of ,thorns4 ,it was now turning   
fast to winter1 and the trees had shed  
their leaves4 ,the forest was all soft  
and brown1 and the sky was a pearly grey
 sheet of high cloud2 but a joy as of   
spring was in ,paul's heart1 and he     
smiled and sang as he went1 though he   
fell at times into sudden silences of   
wonder and delight4 ,when he arrived1   
the ,lady ,beckwith greeted him very    
lovingly1 and presently led him into a  
small chamber that seemed to be an      
oratory4 ,here was a little altar very  
seemly draped1 with stools for kneeling1

 and a chair or two4 ,near the altar1 at
 the side1 was a little door in the wall
 behind a hanging2 the ,lady ,beckwith  
pulled the hanging aside1 and bade ,paul
 to follow2 he found himself in a small 
arched recess1 lit by a single window of
 coloured glass1 that was screened from 
a larger room1 of which it was a part1  
by a curtain4 ,the ,lady ,beckwith bade 
,paul be seated1 and passed beyond the  
curtain for an instant4 ,the room within
 seemed dark1 but there came from it a  
waft of the fragrance of flowers2 and   
,paul heard low voices talking together1
 and knew that ,margaret spake2 in a    
moment she appeared at the entrance1 and
 greeted him with a very sweet and      
simple smile1 but laid her finger on her
 lips2 and so slipped back into the room
 again1 but left ,paul's heart beating  
strangely and fiercely4 ,then the ,lady 
,beckwith returned1 and said in a       
whisper to ,paul that it was a day of   
suffering for ,helen1 and that she could
 not bear the light4 ,so she seated     

herself near him1 and ,paul touched his 
lute1 and sang songs1 five or six1      
gentle songs of happy untroubled things1
 like the voices of streams that murmur 
to themselves when the woods are all    
asleep2 and between the songs he spoke  
not1 but played airily and wistfully    
upon his lute2 and for all that it      
seemed so simple1 he had never put more 
art into what he played and sang4 ,and  
at last he made the music die away to a 
very soft close1 like an evening wind   
that rustles away across a woodland1 and
 moves to the shining west4 ,and looking
 at the ,lady ,beckwith1 he saw that she
 had passed1 on the wings of song1 into 
old forgotten dreams1 and sate smiling  
to herself1 her eyes brimming with      
tears4 ,and then he rose1 and saying    
that he would not be tedious1 put the   
lute aside1 and they went out quietly   
together4 ,and the ,lady ,beckwith took 
his hand in both her own and said1 ,sir 
,paul1 you are a great magician--,i     
could not believe that you could have so

 charmed an old and sad-hearted woman4  
,you have the key of the door of the    
land of dreams2 and think not that ,i am
 ungrateful2 that you1 for whose songs  
princes contend in vain1 should deign to
 come and sing to a maiden that is      
sick--how shall ,i repay it8 ,oh1 ,i am 
richly repaid1 said ,paul1 the guerdon  
of the singer is the incense of a glad  
heart--and you may give me a little love
 if you can1 for ,i am a lonely man4    
,then they smiled at each other1 the    
smile that makes a compact without      
words4  ,then they went down together1  
and there was a simple meal set out2 and
 they ate together like old and secure  
friends1 speaking little2 but the ,lady 
,beckwith told him somewhat of her      
daughter ,helen1 how she had been fair  
and strong till her fifteenth year2 and 
that since that time1 for five weary    
years1 she had suffered under a strange 
and wasting disease that nothing could  
amend4 ,but she is patient and cheerful 
beneath it1 or ,i think my heart would  

break2--but ,i know1 she added1 and her 
mouth quivered as she spoke1 that she   
can hardly see another spring1 and ,i   
would have her last days to be sweet4 ,i
 doubt not1 she went on1 the good and   
wise purposes of ,god1 and ,i think that
 he often sends his bright angels to    
comfort her--for she is never sad--and  
when you sing as you sang just now1 ,i  
seem to understand1 and my heart says   
that it is well4  ,while they spoke the 
,lady ,margaret came into the room1 with
 a sudden radiance2 and coming to ,paul 
she kneeled down beside him1 and kissed 
his hand suddenly1 and said1 ,helen     
thanks you1 and ,i thank you1 ,sir      
,paul1 for giving her such joy as you   
could hardly believe4  ,there came a    
kind of mist over ,paul's eyes1 to feel 
the touch of the lips that he loved so  
well upon his hand2 but at the same time
 it appeared to him like a kind of sin  
that he who seemed to himself1 in that  
moment1 so stained and hard1 should have
 reverence done him by one so pure4 ,so 

he raised her up1 and said1 ,nay1 this  
is not meet2 and he would have said many
 other words that rushed together in his
 mind1 but he could not frame them      
right4 ,but presently the ,lady         
,beckwith excused herself and went2 and 
then ,paul for a sweet hour sate1 and   
talked low and softly to the maiden1 and
 threw such worship into his voice that 
she was amazed4 ,but he said no word of 
love4 ,and she told him of their simple 
life1 and how her sister suffered4 ,and 
then ,paul feared to stay longer1 and   
went with a mighty and tumultuous joy in
 his heart4  ,then for many days ,paul  
went thus to the ,isle of ,thorns--and  
the ,lady ,margaret threw aside her fear
 of him1 and would greet him like a     
brother4 ,sometimes he would find her   
waiting for him at the gate1 and then   
the air was suddenly full of a holy     
radiance4 ,and the ,lady ,beckwith1 too1
 began to use him like a son2 but the   
,lady ,helen he never saw--only once or 
twice he heard her soft voice speak in  

the dark room4 ,and ,paul made new songs
 for her1 but all the time it was for   
,margaret that he sang4  ,and they at   
the castle wondered why ,sir ,paul1 who 
used formerly to sit so much in his     
chamber1 now went so much abroad4 ,but  
he guarded his secret1 and they knew not
 whither he went2 only he saw once1 from
 looks that passed between two of the   
maidens1 that they spoke of him2 and    
this in times past might have made him  
ashamed1 but now his heart was too high1
 and he cared not4  ,there came a day   
when ,paul1 finding himself alone with  
the ,lady ,beckwith1 opened his heart   
suddenly to her2 but he was checked1 as 
it were1 by a sudden hand1 for there    
came into her face a sad and troubled   
look1 as though she blamed herself for  
something4 ,then she said to him1       
faltering1 that she knew not what to    
say1 for she could not read her         
daughter's heart--and ,i think1 ,sir    
,paul1 she added1 that she hath no      
thought of love--love of the sort of    

which you speak4 ,nay1 the maiden loves 
you well1 like a dear brother2 she      
smiles at your approach1 and runs to    
meet you when she hears your step at the
 door2 and then seeing a look of pain   
and terror in the face of ,paul1 she    
said1 ,nay1 dear ,paul1 ,i know not4    
,god knows how gladly ,i would have it  
so1 but hearts are very strangely made2 
yet you shall speak if you will1 and ,i 
will give you my prayers4 ,and then she 
stooped to ,paul1 and kissed his brow1  
and said1 ,there is a mother's kiss1 for
 you are the son of my heart1 whatever  
befall4  ,so presently the maiden came  
in1 and ,paul asked her to walk a little
 with him in the garden1 and she went   
smiling2 and then he could find no words
 at all to tell her what was in his     
heart1 till she said1 laughing1 that he 
looked strangely1 and that it seemed he 
had nought to say4 ,so ,paul took her   
hand1 and told her all his love2 and she
 looked upon him1 smiling very quietly1 
neither trembling nor amazed1 and said  

that she would be his wife if so he     
willed it1 and that it was a great      
honour2 and then1 she added1 you need   
not go from us1 but you can sing to     
,helen every day4 ,then he kissed her2  
and there came into his heart a great   
wave of tenderness1 and he thanked ,god 
very humbly for so great a gift4 ,yet he
 somehow felt in his heart that he was  
not yet content1 and that this was not  
how he had thought it would fall out2   
but he also told himself that he would  
yet win the maiden's closer love1 for he
 saw that she loved not as he loved4    
,then after a little talk they went     
together and told the ,lady ,beckwith1  
and she blessed them2 but ,paul could   
see that neither was she content1 but   
that she looked at ,margaret with a     
questioning and wondering look4  ,then  
there followed very sweet days4 ,it was 
soon in the spring-time of the year2 the
 earth was awaking softly from her long 
sleep1 and was by gentle degrees        
arraying herself for her summer pomp4   

,the primroses put out yellow stars     
about the tree roots2 the hyacinths     
carpeted the woods with blue1 and sent  
their sweet breath down the glade2 and  
,paul felt strange desires stir in his  
heart1 and rise like birds upon the air2
 and when he walked with the ,lady      
,margaret among the copses1 or rested   
awhile upon green banks1 where the birds
 sang hidden in the thickets1 his heart 
made continual melody1 and rose in a    
stream of praise to ,god4 ,but they     
spoke little of love2 at times ,paul    
would try to say something of what was  
in his mind2 but the ,lady ,margaret    
heard him1 sedately smiling1 as though  
she were pleased that she could give him
 this joy1 but as though she understood 
not what he said4 ,she loved to hear of 
,paul's life1 and the places he had     
visited4 ,and ,paul1 for all his joy1   
felt that in his love he was1 as it     
were1 voyaging on a strange and fair sea
 alone1 and as though the maiden stood  
upon the shore and waved her hand to    

him4 ,when he kissed her or took her    
hand in his own1 she yielded to him     
gently and lovingly1 like a child2 and  
it was then that ,paul felt most alone4 
,but none the less was he happy1 and day
 after day was lit for him with a golden
 light4     ,,iv   ,one day there came a
 messenger for ,paul1 and brought him   
news that made him wonder3 the ,house of
 ,heritage had fallen1 on ,mistress     
,alison's death1 to a distant kinsman of
 her own and of his4 ,this man1 who was 
without wife or child1 had lived there  
solitary1 and it seemed that he was now 
dead2 and he had left in his will that  
if ,sir ,paul should wish to redeem the 
house and land for a price1 he should   
have the first choice to do so1 seeing  
his boyhood had been spent there4 ,now  
,paul was rich1 for he had received many
 great gifts and had spent little2 and  
there came into his heart a great and   
loving desire to possess the old house4 
,he told the ,lady ,beckwith and        
,margaret of this1 and they both advised

 him to go and see it4 ,so ,paul asked  
leave of the ,duke1 and told him his    
business4 ,then the ,duke said very     
graciously that ,paul had served him    
well1 and that he would buy the house at
 his own charges1 and give it to ,paul  
as a gift2 but he added that this was a 
gift for past service1 and that he would
 in no way bind ,paul2 but he hoped that
 ,paul would still abide in the castle1 
at least for a part of the year1 and    
make music for them4 ,for indeed1 said  
the ,duke very royally1 it were not meet
 that so divine a power should be buried
 in a rustic grange1 but it should abide
 where it can give delight4 ,indeed1    
,sir ,paul1 it is not only delight6 but 
through your music there flows a certain
 holy and ennobling grace into the      
hearts of all who attentively hear you1 
and tames our wild and brutish natures  
into something worthier and more seemly4
 ,then ,paul thanked the ,duke very     
tenderly1 and said that he would not    
leave him4  ,so ,paul journeyed alone   

with an old man-at-arms1 whom the ,duke 
sent with him for his honour and        
security2 and when he arrived at the    
place1 he lodged at the inn4 ,he found  
the ,house of ,heritage very desolate1  
inhabited only by the ancient maid of   
,mistress ,alison1 now grown old and    
infirm4 ,so ,paul purchased the house   
and land at the ,duke's charges1 and    
caused it to be repaired1 within and    
without1 and hired a gardener to dress  
and keep the ground4 ,he was very       
impatient to be gone1 but the matter    
could not be speedily settled2 and      
though he desired to return to          
,wresting1 and to see ,margaret1 of whom
 he thought night and day1 yet he found 
a great spring of tenderness rise up in 
his heart at the sight of the old rooms1
 in which little had been changed4 ,the 
thought of his lonely and innocent      
boyhood came back to him1 and he visited
 all his ancient haunts1 the fields1 the
 wood1 and the down4 ,he thought much1  
too1 of ,mistress ,alison and her wise  

and gracious ways2 indeed1 sitting      
alone1 as he often did in the old room  
at evening1 it seemed to him almost as  
though she sate and watched him1 and was
 pleased to know that he was famous1 and
 happy in his love2 so that it appeared 
to him as though she gave him a         
benediction from some far-off and holy  
place1 where she abode and was well     
satisfied4  ,then at last he was able to
 return2 but he had been nearly six     
weeks away4 ,he had moved into the house
 and lived there2 and it had filled him 
with a kind of solemn happiness to      
picture how he would some day1 when he  
was free1 live there with ,margaret for 
his wife2 and perhaps there would be    
children too1 making the house sweet    
with their laughter and innocent        
games--children who should look at him  
with eyes like their mother's4 ,long    
hours would pass thus while he sate     
holding a book or his lute between his  
hands1 the time streaming past in a     
happy tide of thoughts4  ,but the last  

night was sad1 for he had gone early to 
his bed1 as he was to start betimes in  
the morning2 and he dreamed that he had 
gone through the wood to the ,isle of   
,thorns1 and had seen the house stand   
empty and shuttered close1 with no signs
 of life about it4 ,in his dream he went
 and beat upon the door1 and heard his  
knocks echo in the hall2 and just as he 
was about to beat again1 it was opened  
to him by an old small woman1 that      
looked thin and sad1 with grey hair and 
many wrinkles1 whom he did not know4 ,he
 had thrust past her1 though she seemed 
to have wished to stay him2 and pushing 
on1 had found ,margaret sitting in the  
hall1 who had looked up at him1 and then
 covered her face with her hands1 and he
 had seen a look of anguish upon her    
face4 ,then the dream had slipped from  
him1 and he dreamed again that he was in
 a lonely place1 a bleak mountain-top1  
with a wide plain spread out beneath2   
and he had watched the flight of two    
white birds1 which seemed to rise from  

the rocks near him1 and fly swiftly     
away1 beating their wings in the waste  
of air4  ,he woke troubled1 and found   
the dawn peeping through the chinks of  
the shutter2 and soon he heard the      
tramping of horses without1 and knew    
that he must rise and go4 ,and the      
thought of the dream dwelt heavily with 
him2 but presently1 riding in the cool  
air1 it seemed to him that his fears    
were foolish2 and his love came back to 
him1 so that he said the name ,margaret 
over many times to himself1 like a      
charm1 and sent his thoughts forward1   
imagining how ,margaret1 newly risen1   
would be moving about the quiet house1  
perhaps expecting him4 ,and then he sang
 a little to himself1 and was pleased to
 see the old man-at-arms smile wearily  
as he rode beside him4  ,three days     
after he rode into the ,castle of       
,wresting at sundown1 and was greeted   
very lovingly2 the ,duke would not let  
him sing that night1 though ,paul said  
he was willing2 but after dinner he     

asked him many questions of how he had  
fared4 ,and ,paul hoped that he might   
have heard some talk of the ,lady       
,margaret4 ,but none spoke of her1 and  
he dared not ask4 ,one thing that he    
noticed was that at dinner the young    
,sir ,richard de ,benoit sate opposite  
him1 looking very pale2 and ,paul1 more 
than once1 looking up suddenly1 saw that
 the ,knight was regarding him very     
fixedly1 as though he were questioning  
of somewhat2 and that each time ,sir    
,richard dropped his eyes as though he  
were ashamed4 ,after dinner was over1   
and ,paul had been discharged by the    
,duke1 he had gone back into the hall to
 see if he could have speech of ,sir    
,richard1 and ask if anything ailed him2
 but he found him not4  ,then on the    
morrow1 as soon as he might1 he made    
haste to go down to the ,isle of        
,thorns4 ,as he was crossing a glade1   
not far from the house1 he saw to his   
surprise1 far down the glade1 a figure  
riding on a horse1 who seemed for a     

moment to be ,sir ,richard himself4 ,he 
stood awhile to consider1 and then1     
going down the glade1 he cried out to   
him4 ,sir ,richard1 who was on a white  
horse1 drew rein1 and turned with his   
hand upon the loins of the horse2 and   
then he turned again1 and1 urging the   
horse forward1 disappeared within the   
wood4 ,there came1 as it were1 a chill  
into ,paul's heart that he should be    
thus unkindly used2 and he vexed his    
brain to think in what he could have    
offended the ,knight2 but he quickly    
returned to his thoughts of love2 so he 
made haste1 and soon came down to the   
place4  ,now1 when he came near1 he     
thought for a moment of his dream2 and  
shrank back from stepping out of the    
trees at the corner whence he could see 
the house2 but chiding himself for his  
vain terrors1 he went swiftly out1 and  
saw the house stand as before1 with the 
trees all delicate green behind it1 and 
the smoke ascending quietly from the    
chimneys4  ,then he made haste2 and--for

 he was now used to enter unbidden--went
 straight into the house2 the hall and  
the parlours were all empty2 so that he 
called upon the servants2 an old        
serving-maid came forth1 and then ,paul 
knew in a moment that all was not well4 
,he looked at her for a moment1 and a   
question seemed to be choked in his     
throat2 and then he said swiftly1 ,is   
the ,lady ,beckwith within8 ,the old    
serving-maid said gravely1 ,she is with 
the ,lady ,helen1 who is very sick4     
,then ,sir ,paul bade her tell the ,lady
 ,beckwith that he was in the house2 and
 as he stood waiting1 there came a kind 
of shame into his heart1 that what he   
had heard was so much less than what he 
had for an instant feared2 and while he 
strove to be more truly sorry1 the ,lady
 ,beckwith stood before him1 very pale4 
,she began to speak at once1 and in a   
low and hurried voice told him of       
,helen's illness1 and how that there was
 little to hope2 and then she put her   
hand on ,paul's arm1 and said1 ,my son1 

why did you leave us8 adding hastily1   
,nay1 it could not have been otherwise4 
,and ,paul1 looking upon her face1      
divined in some sudden way that she had 
not told him all that was in her mind4  
,so he said1 ,dear mother1 you know the 
cause of that--but tell me all1 for ,i  
see there is more behind4 ,then the     
,lady ,beckwith put her face in her     
hands1 and saying1 ,yes1 dear ,paul1    
there is more1 fell to weeping secretly4
 ,while they thus stood together--and   
,paul was aware of a deadly fear that   
clutched at his heart and made all his  
limbs weak--the ,lady ,margaret came    
suddenly into the room1 looking so pale 
and worn that ,paul for a moment did not
 recognise her4 ,but he put out his     
arms1 and took a step towards her2 then 
he saw that she had not known he was in 
the house2 for she turned first red and 
then very pale1 and stepped backwards2  
and it went to ,paul's heart like the   
stabbing of a sharp knife1 that she     
looked at him with a look in which there

 was shame mingled with a certain fear4 
,now while ,paul stood amazed and almost
 stupefied with what he saw1 the ,lady  
,beckwith said quickly and almost       
sternly to ,margaret1 ,go back to       
,helen--she may not be left alone4      
,margaret slipped from the room2 and the
 ,lady ,beckwith pointed swiftly to a   
chair1 and herself sate down4 ,then she 
said1 ,dear ,paul1 ,i have dreaded this 
moment and the sight of you for some    
days--and though ,i should wish to take 
thought of what ,i am to say to you1 and
 to say it carefully1 it makes an ill   
matter worse to dally with it--so ,i    
will even tell you at once4 ,you must   
know that some three days after you left
 us1 the young ,knight ,sir ,richard de 
,benoit fell from his horse1 when riding
 in the wood hard by this house1 and was
 grievously hurt by the fall4 ,they     
carried him in here and we tended him4  
,i had much upon my hands1 for dear     
,helen was in great suffering2 and so it
 fell out that ,margaret was often with 

the ,knight--who1 indeed1 is a noble and
 generous youth1 very pure and innocent 
of heart--and oh1 ,paul1 though it      
pierces my heart to say it1 he loves    
her--and ,i think that she loves him    
too4 ,it is a strange and terrible      
thing1 this love6 it is like the sword  
that the ,lord ,christ said that ,he    
came to bring on earth1 for it divides  
loving households that were else at one 
together2 and now ,i must say more--the 
maiden knew not before what love was2   
she had read of it in the old books2 and
 when you came into this quiet house1   
bringing with you all the magic of song1
 and the might of a gentle and noble    
spirit1 and offered her love1 she took  
it gladly and sweetly1 not knowing what 
it was that you gave2 but ,i have       
watched my child from her youth up1 and 
the love that she gave you was the love 
that she would have given to a          
brother--she admired you and reverenced 
you4 ,she knew that maidens were asked  
and given in marriage1 and she took your

 love1 as a child might take a rich     
jewel1 and love the giver of it4 ,and1  
indeed1 she would have wedded you1 and  
might have learned to love you in the   
other way4 ,but ,god willed it          
otherwise2 and seeing the young ,knight1
 it was as though a door was opened in  
her spirit1 and she came out into       
another place4 ,i am sure that no word  
of love has passed between them2 but it 
has leaped from heart to heart like a   
swift fire2 and all this ,i saw too     
late2 but seeing it1 ,i told ,sir       
,richard how matters stood2 and he is an
 honourable youth2 for from that moment 
he sought how he might be taken hence1  
and made reasons to see no more of the  
maid4 ,but his misery ,i could see2 and 
she is no less miserable2 for she has a 
very pure and simple spirit1 and has    
fought a hard conflict with herself2 yet
 will she hold to her word4  ,and now1  
dear ,paul1 judge between us1 for the   
matter lies in your hands4 ,she is      
yours1 if you claim her2 but her heart  

cannot be yours awhile1 though you may  
win it yet4 ,it is true that both       
knights and maidens have wedded1 loving 
another2 yet they have learned to love  
each other1 and have lived comfortably  
and happily2 but whether1 knowing what  
,i have been forced to tell you1 you can
 be content that things should be as    
before1 ,i know not4  ,then the ,lady   
,beckwith made a pause1 and beat her    
hands together1 watching ,paul's face2  
,paul sate very still and pale1 all the 
light gone out of his eyes1 with his    
lips pressed close together4 ,and at the
 sight of him the tears came into the   
,lady ,beckwith's eyes1 and she could   
not stay them4 ,and ,paul1 looking      
darkly on her1 strove to pity her1 but  
could not2 and clasping the arms of his 
chair1 said hoarsely1 ,i cannot let her 
go4 ,so they sate awhile in silence2 and
 then ,paul rose and said1 ,dear lady1  
you have done well to tell me this--,i  
know deep down in my heart what a brave 
and noble thing you have done3 but ,i   

cannot yet believe it--,i will see the  
,lady ,margaret and question her of the 
matter4 ,then the lady said1 ,nay1 dear 
,paul1 you will not--you think that you 
would do so2 but you could not speak    
with her face to face of such a matter1 
and she could not answer you4 ,you must 
think of it alone1 and to-morrow you    
must tell me what you decide2 and       
whichever way you decide it1 ,i will    
help you as far as ,i can4 ,and then she
 said1 ,you will pity me a little1 dear 
,paul1 for ,i had rather have had a hand
 cut off than have spoken with you thus4
 ,and these simple words brought ,paul a
 little to himself1 and he rose from his
 place and kissed the ,lady ,beckwith's 
hand1 and said1 ,dear mother1 you have  
done well2 but my sorrow is greater than
 ,i can bear1 ,and at that the ,lady    
,beckwith wept afresh2 but ,paul went   
out in a stony silence1 hardly knowing  
what he did4  ,then it seemed to ,paul  
as though he went down into deep waters 
indeed1 which passed cold and silent1 in

 horror and bitterness1 over his soul4  
,he did not contend or cry out2 but he  
knew that the light had fallen out of   
his life1 and had left him dark and     
dead4  ,so he went slowly back to the   
castle through the wood1 hating his life
 and all that he was2 once or twice he  
felt a kind of passion rise within him1 
and he said to himself1 ,she is pledged 
to me1 and she shall be mine4 ,and then 
there smote upon him the thought that in
 thinking thus he was rather brute than 
man4 ,and he fell at last into an agony 
of prayer that ,god would lead him to   
the light1 and show him what he should  
do4 ,when he reached the castle he put a
 strong constraint upon himself2 he went
 down to the hall2 he even sang2 but it 
was like a dream2 he seemed to be out of
 the body1 and as it were to see himself
 standing1 and to hear the words falling
 from his own lips4 ,the ,duke          
courteously praised him1 and said that  
he was well content to hear his minstrel
 again4  ,as he left the hall1 he passed

 through a little anteroom1 that was    
hung with arras1 on the way to his      
chamber2 and there he saw sitting on a  
bench1 close to the door that led to the
 turret stair1 the young ,knight1 ,sir  
,richard2 and there rose in his heart a 
passion of anger1 so strong that he felt
 as though a hand were laid upon his    
heart1 crushing it4 ,and he stood still1
 and looked upon the ,knight1 who raised
 so pale and haggard a face upon him1   
that ,paul1 in spite of his own misery1 
saw before him a soul as much or more   
vexed than his own2 and then the anger  
died out of his heart1 and left in him  
only the sense of the bitter fellowship 
of suffering2 the ,knight rose to his   
feet1 and they stood for a moment       
looking at each other2 and then the     
,knight said1 pale to the lips1 ,sir    
,paul1 we are glad to welcome you       
back--,i have heard of the ,duke's gift1
 and rejoice that your inheritance      
should thus return to you4 ,and ,paul   
bowed and said1 ,ay1 it is a great gift2

 but it seems that in finding it ,i have
 lost a greater4 ,and then1 seeing the  
,knight grow paler still1 if that were  
possible1 he said1 ,sir ,richard1 let me
 tell you a parable2 there was a little 
bird of the wood that came to my window1
 and made me glad--so that ,i thought of
 no other thing but my wild bird1 that  
trusted me3 and while ,i was absent1 one
 hath whispered it away1 and it will not
 return4 ,and ,sir ,richard said1 ,nay1 
,sir ,paul1 you are in this unjust4     
,what if the wild bird hath seen its    
mate8 ,and1 for you know not the other  
side of the parable1 its mate hath hid  
itself in the wood1 and the wild bird   
will return to you1 if you bid it come4 
,then ,sir ,paul1 knowing that the      
,knight had done worthily and like a    
true knight1 said1 ,sir ,richard1 ,i am 
unjust2 but you will pardon me1 for my  
heart is very sore4 ,and so ,paul passed
 on to his chamber2 and that night was a
 very bitter one1 for he went down into 
the sad valley into which men must needs

 descend1 and he saw no light there4    
,and once in the night he rose dry-eyed 
and fevered from his bed1 and twitching 
the curtain aside1 saw the forest lie   
sleeping in the cold light of the moon2 
and his thought went out to the ,isle of
 ,thorns1 and he saw the four hearts    
that were made desolate2 and he         
questioned in his heart why ,god had    
made the hard and grievous thing that   
men call love4  ,then he went back and  
fell into a sort of weary sleep2 and    
waking therefrom1 he felt a strange and 
terrible blackness seize upon his       
spirit1 so that he could hear his own   
heart beat furious and thick in the     
darkness2 and he prayed that ,god would 
release him from the prison of the      
world4 ,but while he lay1 he heard the  
feet of a horse clatter on the pavement1
 it being now near the dawn2 and        
presently there came a page fumbling to 
the door1 who bore a letter from the    
,lady ,beckwith1 and it ran2--  ,i would
 not write to you thus1 dear ,paul1     

unless my need were urgent2 but the dear
 ,helen is near her end1 and has prayed 
me many times that1 if it were possible1
 you should come and sing to her--for   
she fears to go into the dark1 and says 
that your voice can give her strength   
and hope4 ,now if it be possible1 come2 
but if you say nay to my messenger1 ,i  
shall well understand it4 ,but the dear 
one hath done you no hurt1 and for the  
love of the ,god who made us1 come and  
comfort us--from her who loves you as a 
son1 these4  ,then ,paul when he had    
read1 pondered for awhile2 and then he  
said to the page1 ,say that ,i will     
come4 ,so he arrayed himself with haste1
 and went swiftly through the silent    
wood1 looking neither to left or to     
right1 but only to the path at his feet4
 ,and presently he came to the ,isle of 
,thorns2 it lay in a sort of low silver 
mist1 the house pushing through it1 as a
 rock out of the sea4 ,and then a sudden
 chill came over ,paul1 and the very    
marrow of his bones shuddered2 for he   

knew in his heart that this was nothing 
but the presaging of death2 and he      
thought that the dreadful angel stood   
waiting at the door1 and that presently 
the spirit of one that lay within must  
arise1 leaving the poor body behind1 and
 go with the angel4  ,in the high       
chamber where ,helen lay burnt a light  
behind a curtain2 and ,paul saw a form  
pass slowly to and fro4 ,and he would   
fain have pitied the two who must lose  
her whom they loved2 but there passed   
over his spirit a sort of bitter wind2  
and he could feel no pity for any soul  
but his own1 and his heart was dry as   
dust2 he felt in his mind nothing but a 
kind of dumb wonder as to why he had    
troubled himself to come4  ,there must  
have been1 he saw1 a servant bidden to  
await his coming1 because1 as his feet  
sounded on the flags1 the door was      
opened to him2 and in a moment he was   
within the hall4 ,at the well-known     
sights and scents of the place1 the     
scene of his greatest happiness1 the old

 aching came back into his stony heart1 
and grief1 that was like a sharp sword1 
thrust through him4 ,suddenly1 as he    
stood1 a door opened1 and ,margaret came
 into the hall2 she saw him in a moment2
 and he divined that she had not known  
he was within1 but had meant only to    
pass through2 for she stopped short as  
though irresolute1 and looked at him    
with a wild and imploring gaze1 like a  
forest thing caught in a trap4  ,in a   
moment there flowed into ,paul's heart a
 great pity and tenderness1 and a       
strength so wonderful that he knew it   
was not his own1 but the immortal       
strength of ,god4 ,and he stepped       
forward1 forgetting all his own pain and
 misery1 and said1 ,margaret1 dear one1 
dear sister1 what is the shadow that    
hath fallen between us at this time8 ,i 
would not1 he went on1 speak of         
ourselves at such an hour as this2 but  
,i see that there is somewhat--we       
minstrels have a power to look in the   
heart of those we love--and ,i think it 

is this--that you can love me1 dear one1
 as a brother1 and not as a lover4      
,well1 ,i am content1 and so it shall   
be4 ,i love you too well1 little one1 to
 desire any love but what you can give  
me--so brother and sister we will be4   
,then he saw a light come into her face1
 and she murmured words of sorrow that  
he could not hear2 but he put his arm   
about her as a brother might1 and kissed
 her cheek4 ,and then she put her hands 
upon his shoulder1 and her face upon    
them1 and broke out into a passion of   
weeping4 ,and ,paul1 saying ,even so1   
kissed and comforted her1 as one might  
comfort a child1 till she looked up1 as 
if to inquire somewhat of him4 ,and he  
said smiling1 ,so this is my dear sister
 indeed--yes1 ,i will be content with   
that--and now take me to the dear       
,helen1 that ,i may see if my art can   
comfort her4 ,then it was very sweet to 
,paul's sore heart that she drew her arm
 within his own and led him up from the 
room4 ,then there came in haste the     

,lady ,beckwith down to meet them1 with 
a look of pain upon her face2 and ,paul 
said1 still smiling1 ,we are brother and
 sister henceforth4 ,then the ,lady     
,beckwith smiled too out of her grief   
and said1 ,oh1 it is well4  ,then they  
passed together through the oratory and 
entered the chamber of death4 ,and then 
,paul saw a heavenly sight4 ,the room   
was a large one1 dim and dark4 ,in a    
chair near the fire1 all in white1 sate 
a maiden like a lily--so frail and      
delicate that she seemed like a pure    
spirit1 not a thing of earth4 ,she sate 
with a hand upraised between her and the
 fire2 and when ,paul came in1 she      
looked at him with a smile in which     
appeared nothing but a noble patience1  
as though she had waited long2 but she  
did not speak4 ,then they drew a chair  
for ,paul1 and he took his lute1 and    
sang soft and low1 a song of one who    
sinks into sweet dreams1 when the sounds
 of day are hushed--and presently he    
made an end4 ,then she made a sign that 

,paul should approach1 and he went to   
her1 and kneeled beside her1 and kissed 
her hand4 ,and ,margaret came out of the
 dark1 and put her hand on ,paul's      
shoulder saying1 ,this is our brother4  
,and ,helen smiled in ,paul's face--and 
something1 a kind of heavenly peace and 
love1 seemed to pass from her eyes and  
settle in ,paul's heart2 and it was told
 him in that hour1 he knew not how1 that
 this was his bride whom he had loved1  
and that he had loved ,margaret for her 
sake2 and that moment seemed to ,paul to
 be worth all his life that had gone    
before1 and all that should go after4   
,so he knelt in the silence2 and then in
 a moment1 he knew not where or whence1 
the whole air seemed full of a heavenly 
music about them1 such music as he had  
never dreamed of1 the very soul and     
essence of the music of earth4 ,but     
,helen laid her head back1 and1 smiling 
still1 she died4 ,and ,paul laid her    
hand down4  ,then without a word he     
rose1 and went from the chamber2 and he 

stepped out into the garden1 and paced  
there wondering2 he saw the trees stand 
silent in their sleep1 and the flowers  
like stars in their dewy beds4 ,and he  
knew that ,god was very near him2 he put
 all his burdens and sorrows1 his art1  
and all himself within the mighty hands2
 and he knew that he could never doubt  
again of the eternal goodness and the   
faithful tender love of the ,father4    
,and all the while the dawn slowly      
brightened over the wood1 and came up   
very slowly and graciously out of the   
east4 ,then ,paul gave word that he must
 return to the castle1 but would come   
back soon4 ,and as he mounted the steps1
 he saw that there was a man pacing on  
the terrace above1 and knew that it was 
the ,knight ,richard1 whom he sought4   
,so he went up on the terrace1 and there
 he saw the young ,knight looking out   
over the forest2 ,paul went softly up to
 him and laid his hand upon his         
shoulder1 and the ,knight turned upon   
him a haggard and restless eye4 ,then   

,paul said1 ,sir ,richard1 ,i come from 
the ,isle of ,thorns--but ,i have more  
to say to you4 ,you are a noble ,knight 
and have done very worthily--and ,i     
yield to you with all my heart the dear 
,margaret1 for we are brother and       
sister1 and nought else1 now and        
henceforth4 ,then ,sir ,richard1 as     
though he hardly heard him aright1 stood
 looking upon his face2 and ,paul took  
his hand very gently in both his own1   
and said1 ,yes1 it is even so--and we   
will be brothers too4 ,then he went     
within the castle--and lying down in his
 chamber he slept peacefully like a     
little child4     ,v   ,many years have 
passed since that day4 ,first ,sir      
,richard wedded the ,lady ,margaret1 and
 dwelt at the ,isle of ,thorns4 ,a boy  
was born to them1 whom they named ,paul1
 and a daughter whom they called ,helen4
 ,and ,paul was much with them1 and had 
great content4 ,he made1 men said1      
sweeter music than ever he had done1 in 
those days4 ,then the ,duke died2 and   

,paul1 though his skill failed not1 and 
though the ,king himself would have had 
him to his ,court1 went back to the     
,house of ,heritage1 and there dwelt    
alone1 a grave and kindly man1 very     
simple of speech1 and loving to walk and
 sit alone4 ,and ,sir ,richard and the  
,lady ,margaret bought an estate hard by
 and dwelt there4  ,now ,paul would make
 no more music1 save that he sometimes  
played a little on the lute for the     
pleasure of the ,lady ,margaret2 but he 
took into his house a boy whom he taught
 the art2 and when he was trained and   
gone into the world1 to make music of   
his own1 ,paul took another--so that as 
the years went on1 he had sent out a    
number of his disciples to be minstrels2
 so his art was not lost2 and one of    
these1 who was a very gracious child    
named ,percival1 he loved better than   
the rest1 because he saw in him that he 
had a love for the art more than for all
 the rewards of art4 ,and once when they
 sate together1 the boy ,percival said1 

,dear sir1 may ,i ask you a question8 ,a
 dozen1 if it be your will1 said ,paul1 
smiling2 but1 dear child1 ,i know not if
 ,i can answer it4 ,then the boy said1  
,why do you not make more music1 dear   
sir8 for it seems to me like a well that
 holds its waters close and deep1 and   
will not give them forth4 ,then ,paul   
said smiling1 ,nay1 ,i have given men   
music of the best4 ,but there are two   
reasons why ,i make no more2 and ,i will
 tell you them1 if you can understand   
them4 ,the first is that many years ago 
,i heard a music that shamed me2 and    
that sealed the well4 ,then the boy said
 musing1 ,tell me the name of the       
musician1 dear ,sir ,paul1 for ,i have  
heard that you were ever the first4     
,then ,paul said1 ,nay1 ,i know not the 
name of the maker of it4 ,then the boy  
said smiling1 ,then1 dear sir1 it must  
have been the music of the angels4 ,and 
,paul said1 ,ay1 it was that4 ,then the 
boy was silent1 and sate in awe1 while  
,paul mused1 touching his lute softly4  

,then he roused himself and said1 ,and  
the second reason1 dear child1 is this4 
,there comes a time to all that         
make--whether it be books or music or   
pictures--when they can make no new     
thing1 but go on in the old manner1     
working with the fingers of age the     
dreams of youth4 ,and to me this seems  
as it were a profane and unholy thing1  
that a man should use so divine an art  
thus unworthily2 it is as though a host 
should set stale wine before his guests1
 and put into it some drug which should 
deceive their taste2 and ,i think that  
those who do this do it for two reasons3
 either they hanker for the praise      
thereof1 and cannot do without the      
honour--and that is unworthy--or they do
 it because they have formed the habit  
of it1 and have nought to fill their    
vacant hours--and that is unworthy too4 
,so hearing the divine music of which ,i
 spoke but now1 ,i knew that ,i could   
attain no further2 and that there was a 
sweet plenty of music in the hand of    

,god1 and that he would give it as men  
needed it2 but that my own work was     
done4 ,for each man must decide for     
himself when to make an end4 ,and       
further1 dear child1 mark this6 ,the    
peril for us and for all that follow art
 is to grow so much absorbed in our     
handiwork1 so vain of it1 that we think 
there is nought else in the world4 ,into
 that error ,i fell1 and therein abode4 
,but we are in this world like little   
children at school4 ,god has many fair  
things to teach us1 but we grow to love 
our play1 and to think of nought else1  
so that the holy lessons fall on        
unheeding ears2 but now ,i have put     
aside my play1 and sit awhile listening 
to the voice of ,god1 and to all that   
,he may teach me2 and the lesson is hard
 to spell2 but ,i wait upon ,him humbly 
and quietly1 till ,he call me hence4    
,and now we have talked enough1 and we  
will go back to our music2 and you shall
 play me that passage over1 for you     
played it not deftly enough before4     

,now it happened that a few days later  
,paul in his sleep dreamed a dream2 and 
when he woke1 he could scarce contain   
his joy2 and the boy ,percival1 seeing  
him in the morning1 marvelled at the    
radiance that appeared in his face2 and 
a little later ,paul bade him go across 
the fields to the ,lady ,margaret's     
house1 and to bid her come to him1 if   
she would1 for he had something that he 
must tell her1 and he might not go      
abroad4 ,so ,percival told the ,lady    
,margaret2 and she wondered at the      
message1 and asked if ,sir ,paul was    
sick4 ,and the boy said1 ,no1 ,i never  
saw him so full of joy--so that ,i am   
afraid4  ,then the ,lady ,margaret went 
to the ,house of ,heritage2 and ,paul   
came to greet her at the door1 and      
brought her in1 and sate for awhile in  
silence1 looking on her face4 ,the ,lady
 ,margaret was now a very comely and    
sedate lady1 and had held her son's     
child in her arms2 and ,paul was a      
grey-haired man2 yet in his eyes she was

 still the maiden he had known4 ,then   
,paul1 speaking very softly1 said1 ,dear
 ,margaret1 ,i have bidden you come     
hither1 for ,i think ,i am called hence2
 and when ,i depart1 and ,i know not    
when it may be1 ,i would close my eyes  
in the dear house where ,i was nurtured4
 ,then she looked at him with a sudden  
fear1 but he went on1 ,dear one1 ,i have
 dreamed very oft of late of ,helen--she
 stands smiling in a glory1 and looks   
upon me4 ,but this last night ,i saw    
more4 ,i know not if ,i slept or waked1 
but ,i heard a high and heavenly music2 
and then ,i saw ,helen stand1 but she   
stood not alone2 she held by the hand a 
child1 who smiled upon me2 and the child
 was like herself2 but ,i presently     
discerned that the child had a look of  
myself as well2 and she loosed the      
child's hand from her own1 and the child
 ran to me and kissed me2 and ,helen    
seemed to beckon me2 and then ,i passed 
into sleep again4 ,but now ,i see the   
truth4 ,the love that ,i bear her hath  

begotten1 ,i think1 a child of the      
spirit that hath never known a mortal   
birth2 and the twain wait for me4 ,and  
,margaret1 knowing not what to say1 but 
feeling that he had seen somewhat high  
and heavenly1 sate in silence2 and      
presently ,paul1 breaking out of a muse1
 began to talk of the sweet days of     
their youth1 and of the tender mercies  
of ,god4 ,but while he spoke1 he        
suddenly broke off1 and held up his     
hand2 and there came a waft of music    
upon the air4 ,and ,paul smiled like a  
tired child1 and lay back in his chair2 
and as he did so a string of the lute   
that lay beside him broke with a sweet  
sharp sound4 ,and the ,lady ,margaret   
fell upon her knees beside him1 and took
 his hand2 and then she seemed to see a 
cloudy gate1 and two that stood         
together--a fair woman and a child2 and 
up to the gate1 out of a cloud1 came    
swiftly a man1 like one that reaches his
 home at last2 and the three went in at 
the gate together1 hand in hand2--and   

then the music came once again1 and died
 upon the air4