He arose and began to walk with her. "And thy heart led thee this way?"
he asked in a whisper.

She flashed upon him a look so bright that it was as if high noon had
returned to the garden. "Pluck me yonder lily," she said. "It is the
first I have smelled this year."

He brought it to her, trembling. "Presently it will close," he said,
"never to open again."

"That also is among the things we know not," she answered. "Think you
not there is one who revives the souls of men?"

"Ay, I believe it," he answered. They paced again the green to its
flowery margin.

"Give me yon spray of love-lies-bleeding," she said; then as it rested
against the lily in her hand, "Wounds may be cured," she said. "I have
heard talk here, there, at the court even, else, beshrew me, if I had
come this way to-day! I know that thou goest forth--" Her voice broke
and the gold star shook with the trembling of her frame. "I know that
thou mayst never, never, never return. I will pray for thy soul's
welfare.... See! there is a heartsease at my feet."

He knelt, but touched not the floweret, instead caught at the long folds
of her silver gown and held her where she stood. "For my soul's welfare,
thou balm from heaven!" he cried. "For only my soul's welfare?"

"No, no," she answered. "For the welfare of all of thee, soul and