"I am getting ready for a very important journey," she said.

He watched her intently. Presently he said, in a strange, abashed tone, "You seem a very nice, kind lady, after all!"

She did not reply to this, because a dove came in at that instant and she busied herself placing it in its compartment in the cote.

He continued to regard her, though he was now studying her face, rather than taking note of her work with the doves. "Sometimes," he continued falteringly, "I have a wish to speak to you--I mean, to tell you of things which I cannot speak of to others."

"I have tried always, Everychild, to be close to you," she said.

For an instant it seemed to him that it would not be difficult at all to speak to her of what was in his heart. And he said, "You know I--I am not very happy."

She replied to this with gentle mockery. "Not happy?" she said; "and yet there are many to play with you, and none to turn away from you with coldness and indifference--any more."

He became strangely still. What did she mean by that? He had never told her about his childhood; he had never mentioned his parents to her. Whom could she be, that she should know so many things without having to be told? Or was she speaking only of the present, without reference to the past?

"My playmates are all friendly," he said; "but you know I have come far from home . . ."

When he faltered she added, "But have you found what you started out to find?"

He was a little embarra.s.sed. "What I started out to find?" he echoed.

"I don't seem to remember----"

"You know you started out to find the truth," she said.

He nodded. "So I did," he declared. "But so many things have happened, especially since I found the Sleeping Beauty, and it's been so nice, most of the time . . ."

"Still, you shouldn't give up, you know," she said. "Maybe that's the reason why you're not quite happy--because you haven't found the truth."

He sighed heavily. She hadn't comforted him, after all. And somehow he could not tell her that what ailed him was that he was heartsick to see his parents again. He remembered the pretty sitting room at home, and the way his father and mother used to look; and it seemed to him that if he could go back they would perhaps be happy to see him. But he could not speak of all this to the Masked Lady.

He was greatly amazed when she said in a low tone: "It would be the same thing over again if you didn't find the truth before you went back."

It was quite as if he had spoken his thoughts to her aloud!

He drew away from her uneasily; but even as he did so she received another dove which fluttered in at the window. And as she read the message it had brought she said musingly--almost as if she were reading the message, and not speaking to him at all--"_Everychild shall find his parents again!_"

He felt that he almost loved her when he heard those words--almost, yet not quite. His heart beat more lightly. He wondered where all the children had gone. He listened for their voices.

It was then that an outer door opened hurriedly and the giant, Will o'Dreams, entered the room. Perceiving Everychild, he stood an instant with clinched hands and uplifted face; and then he cried out in a loud voice:

"Everychild!"

And Everychild replied, with a little of that kindly condescension which a married man feels toward a youth, "Well, my boy?"

The giant cried out with elation, "Everychild, I have found her house!"

"You have found her house?" echoed Everychild in perplexity.

"My mother's house! I have seen it again! These many days, while you have been happy here, I have made countless journeys far and near. I made a final search. I could not give her up. And now I have found her house--the house where I dwelt when I was a child!"

This was good news, indeed. Everychild knew how the heart of the giant had yearned for his mother. He smiled delightedly. "Ah, and so you have seen her at last!" he cried.

"I have not seen her--no," confessed the giant. "They would not allow me to enter--they who surround her. I was but one, and they were many; and they are cruel and relentless. But now that I have found the place which shelters her I shall not give up until I stand face to face with her again. Dear Everychild . . ."

"Well?" said Everychild, seeing that his friend found it very hard to continue.

"I have come now to tell you we must part. I could not remain away, remembering that I had not bade you farewell. But now I go to watch for her until she emerges from her door, or until her followers slumber . . . Oh, the obstacles shall be as nothing. Only rejoice with me that I am to meet her again at last!"

But Everychild's heart became heavy. "And we must part?" he asked in a low voice. "Please do not say so! We, who have become like brothers . . . is there no other way?"

"There is no other way," replied the giant. "Do not doubt that I too shall grieve because of our parting; but after searching for her in vain all these years . . ."

But Everychild, after a moment's reflection, cried out resolutely, "There is another way. I shall go with you! And after you have found her, who knows----"

The giant was now happy indeed. "You will go with me?" he cried; "you will leave all that makes you happy here and go with me into possible perils? Then make haste--oh, make haste, that we may be on our way."

And speaking thus the giant rushed eagerly from the room.

For a moment Everychild stood lost in thought. It was the Masked Lady who aroused him. "It will be but a short journey," she said; and it seemed to Everychild that she spoke sadly. "Go with him, and be sure you shall make a speedy return."

He would have gone, then. Already he was putting great energy into his feet, that he might overtake the giant. But the Masked Lady detained him.

"A word," she said. "Be patient with him, and comfort him, whatever may befall. And Everychild--take this with you."

As she spoke she produced quite magically the slim, shining sword she had lent him once before. "Carry this," she said. "When it is drawn a certain door which would otherwise remain shut will open wide. And be of good cheer."

He took the sword mutely, wonderingly. How should it cause a door to open? he mused.

When he had reached the outer door he turned to look again upon the Masked Lady. She was smiling a little oddly--almost sadly, he thought.

She was holding forth her hands toward the open window. She was not paying heed to him now. White doves were entering at the window and alighting on her hands.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE HIDDEN TEMPLE

Everychild paused in the court long enough to explain to the Sleeping Beauty and his friends that he was setting forth on an important mission with Will o'Dreams; and then the two companions set forth from the castle and began the descent of the road which led down into the valley.

Soon they came upon the road which they had formerly traveled--the Road of Troubled Children. And before the day was spent they had covered a great distance, since the giant, in his impetuous mood, set a very fast gait.

Toward sundown they turned a little away from the road and entered a forest of a nature so confusing and forbidding that Everychild paused in dismay. But the giant kept straight on, saying he was very sure of the way, and after a moment's halt, Everychild followed him.

In the very heart of the forest they paused, and Everychild's eyes opened wide with wonder: for before them was an amazing sight.

On a fair plateau a temple of white marble stood forth brightly in the light of the setting sun. It was the most perfect temple ever seen.

It had a broad flight of steps, at the top of which there were pillars which almost resembled gla.s.s, so great was their purity. In the midst of the pillars there was a broad door set with precious gems. Here and there were alabaster urns.