me. Wise maybe she will not be, though wise to me. For riches I
care not, and of her kindred I have no care. All I know is that
just to sit by her will be bliss, just to touch her bliss, just
to hear her speak bliss beyond all mortal telling."

Thereat the Sweetness of the Strength of the Oak smiled upon me
and said,--

"Follow yonder green path till it leads you into a little grassy
glade, where is a crystal well and a hut of woven boughs hard by,
and you shall see her whom you seek."

And as she spoke she faded suddenly, and the side of the oak was
once more as the solid rock. With hot heart I took the green
winding path, and presently came the little grassy glade, and the
bubbling crystal well, and the hut of wattled boughs, and,
looking through the open door of the hut, I saw a lovely girl
lying asleep in her golden hair. She smiled sweetly in her sleep,
and stretched out her arms softly, as though to enfold the dear
head of her lover. And, ere I knew, I was bending over her, and
as her sweet breath came and went I whispered: "Grace o' God, I
am here. I have sought you through the world, and found you at
last. Grace o' God, I have come."

And then I thought her great eyes opened, as when the sun sweeps
clear blue spaces in the morning sky. "Flower o' Men," then
said she, low and sweet,--"Flower o' Men, is it you indeed? As
you have sought, so have I waited, waited . . ." And thereat
her arms stole round my neck, and I awoke, and Grace o' God was
suddenly no more than a pretty name that my dream had given me.