George knew well in his heart that it was not his care that had made the geranium thrive. The sunbeam which he pretended to treat as a dream had nourished it. However, if that chapter in his life was blurred and misty, to-day's was clear.

The Ma.s.s that was being sung was his masterpiece. It was the outpouring of his soul. He would compose still greater religious works. What more wonderful theme could he have than a G.o.d's agony!

"_Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus!_" muttered the priest. The consecration drew near, the people bent their heads.

Still the musician remained lost in his thoughts. All over the world the advent of the Babe of Bethlehem was being celebrated. What a wonderful story it was! The star in the East, the wise men, the Infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and cradled in a manger. His unrecorded childhood, His love for little children, the more forsaken and forlorn, the greater His love. And he had been rich and prosperous, and yet had never given a thought to those poor little waifs whose life he himself had once lived.

Happy in the love of his own child, he had forgotten the woes of others.

G.o.d had taken her away; but he would accept the Divine warning, and follow in the Divine footsteps. He would open his heart to the children of the poor; he would clothe them and give them bread.

The priest lifted the chalice. On the incense veiled altar the musician saw a sunbeam dart into the Holy Cup, and he heard the well-remembered voice breathe forth a glorious message,--

"Clothe them and give them bread. In that last vow the flower has reached the Sun-lands."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THOU SHALT CLOTHE THEM AND GIVE THEM BREAD"]

THE GARDEN OF INNOCENCE

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GARDEN OF INNOCENCE]

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

Omar Khayyam

I.

Many a year ago, in a land that was washed by the sea, there lived a King who had an only son whom he loved very dearly.

Fertile gardens surrounded the palace. They extended for miles and miles. In the distance the sapphire sea looked like a calm lake. The gardens were rich in flowers, which bloomed all the year in this land of perpetual summer. There were lilies and violets, hyacinths, carnations, cyclamens, and orchids; but the rose was mistress of the land, and they called it the "Rose Islands." The trees were filled with song-birds, and the air was fragrant with perfume tempered by the sea.

If ever mortal man was framed for happiness, the Prince of the Rose Islands was he--a youth of a gallant disposition, his golden hair hanging from beneath his jewelled cap, his brown eyes half hidden by their long lashes. His doublet was of white brocade, his hose and pointed shoes of silk; he was the _beau ideal_ of a prince in form and figure, and brave as he was amiable, two royal qualities.

The King, his father, observing that he appeared to be sad when it seemed to him he should be most happy, asked Ulric what troubled him.

"I am lonely, so please your Grace, and I would fain have a friend."

"I am thy friend, sweet son. Have I done aught that should forfeit me thy friendship?"

"My lord the King, I am always thine--thine in true obedience, thine in the sight of G.o.d, thine in filial love, but not in friendship. Though I dream of it night and day, I have never known friendship; sometimes, indeed, I fear that it cannot exist," replied the Prince sadly.

"Nay, Ulric, in good sooth, thou art mistaken. Look about thee, in the palace. The n.o.ble lords of our Court, the high-born pages who minister to thy wants, are all thy humble and devoted friends."

"Father, prithee pardon me for my temerity in differing from thy gracious word; but those of whom thou speakest are not my friends. They know that I am all-powerful with thee. They are but fawning sycophants, who feed upon thy bounty. If the sentiment they profess to cherish for me be friendship, then indeed my dreams of the meaning of the word are hollow, as hollow as is my life in this paradise of beauty."

The King laid his hand upon his son's head, and looked into his sad face.

"My poor child," he said, "G.o.d knows I love thee better than myself. Art thou not my successor to these fair islands? Tell me, what can a King do for thy comfort?"

"Prithee, good my lord, send for the Lady Christabel, the daughter of the great Earl, thy subject, and for Prince Winfred, the heir of that land yonder, which reflects itself in our sea; let them live here for a time, and help me to discover the meaning of that magic word friendship."

The King gave orders that an escort should start at once to bring the Lady Christabel to his palace. He also commanded that a ship should be built, in which to fetch Prince Winfred of the Sea Islands.

Lady Christabel arrived in the evening of the next day. She was mounted on a white steed, and was clad in a silken robe of opaline hue, her cloak and cap jewelled with moonstones. Ulric stood on the steps of the palace to receive her. She knelt and kissed his hand, and then looked upwards into his face. He noted the abundance of her dark hair and the strange beauty of her changing eyes, which were grey and blue by turn, as were the hues of her silken gown.

"Welcome, sweet Christabel, to our palace," said the Prince. "Dost think thou canst be happy here?"

"Ah, my dear lord, ask me if I could be happy in Paradise."

Ulric flushed with pleasure, and led her up the marble steps to the King's audience chamber. As the doors unclosed a sweet melody floated on the air, increased in volume for a brief s.p.a.ce, then grew fainter and died away. Christabel found herself in an immense room. The walls were set with rubies, the floor was of rock crystal, strewn with pink and white rose-leaves. In the centre of the hall, upon a das covered with cloth of gold, sat the King, in his robes of state. The ladies of the Court, the lords and the pages, were clad in silks of various colours.

Prince Ulric led Christabel to the foot of the throne.

"Welcome to our Court, my child," said the King. "Our dear son is lonely; wilt thou befriend him? Wilt thou teach him the solace of friendship? Wilt thou prove to him that it is a reality and not a dream?"

"Most gracious King," replied Christabel, "I will teach him all I know of selfless, sacrificing, eternal friendship."

"It does exist, then?" asked the Prince eagerly.

"Do the stars exist, my good lord, or the sun or the roses?"

"The roses wither, sweet lady, even here, in paradise."

"But friendship, good my lord, is a deathless rose; its leaves are immortal."

II.

At last Prince Ulric was happy. The days pa.s.sed freighted with golden hours. He roamed with Christabel among the Rose Islands, and showed her the wonders thereof. Every day they inspected the progress made in the building of the ship which was to carry Prince Winfred to their sh.o.r.es.

At length the vessel was finished, and she sailed away, the two companions watching her from the beach until her rosy flag and glittering figure-head were but specks in the distance. Then the Prince handed Christabel into a boat that spread its silken sails to the breeze, and they sailed along the coast.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Art thou quite happy now, my gracious lord?" asked Christabel.

"Ay, in good sooth, sweet lady. Have I not found solace in thy companionship? Do I not at length possess the white rose of friendship?"

"My dear Prince, I am indeed thy true, though humble, friend for ever."

"For ever!" sighed Ulric. "Ah, Christabel, I was so sad before thou camest. Thou hast saved me. I lived in doubt of honest friendship until now."

Ulric gazed into her face. She took up her lute and sang to him, a song of youth and springtime.

Some days afterwards the ship which bore Prince Winfred anch.o.r.ed off the Rose Islands, and for the first time the two Princes met. Winfred, as became a son of the sea, was clothed in a garb of emerald tone, embroidered with sh.e.l.ls. His cap was woven of strange sea-flowers. Great was the rejoicing in the Rose Islands over the advent of Prince Winfred.

And as time went by great was the happiness of Ulric, for now he had another friend, a youth like unto himself.

Months pa.s.sed, scarcely making a ripple on the sea of Time. The three companions basked in an eternal sunshine. Sometimes they sailed over the blue water, sometimes they sat among the flowers, while Winfred told them tales of his life and home--of strange caverns along the coast, of yellow sand-dunes covered with sea-flowers, of moorlands where purple heather bloomed, of long days pa.s.sed in fishing, of stress and storms, of a sea that was often stern and angry, with crested waves beating sh.o.r.eward. Ulric would gaze at his guest in wonder, but Christabel's eyes swam in a mist of tears, and when Winfred's hand touched hers she would tremble. He gazed into her eyes, and understood their meaning. As time went by Winfred grew silent, but each day he looked oftener at Christabel.