our way in great happiness . . . ."

He paused.

"Go on," I said.

"I remember little things. We passed an old man musing among
laurels, I remember, and a place gay with paroquets, and came
through a broad shaded colonnade to a spacious cool palace, full of
pleasant fountains, full of beautiful things, full of the quality
and promise of heart's desire. And there were many things and many
people, some that still seem to stand out clearly and some that are
a little vague, but all these people were beautiful and kind. In
some way--I don't know how--it was conveyed to me that they all
were kind to me, glad to have me there, and filling me with
gladness by their gestures, by the touch of their hands, by the
welcome and love in their eyes. Yes--"

He mused for awhile. "Playmates I found there. That was very
much to me, because I was a lonely little boy. They played
delightful games in a grass-covered court where there was a
sun-dial set about with flowers. And as one played one loved . . . .

"But--it's odd--there's a gap in my memory. I don't remember the
games we played. I never remembered. Afterwards, as a child, I
spent long hours trying, even with tears, to recall the form of that
happiness. I wanted to play it all over again--in my nursery--by
myself. No! All I remember is the happiness and two dear
playfellows who were most with me . . . . Then presently came a
sombre dark woman, with a grave, pale face and dreamy eyes, a