Master of the Vineyard

of the B

ng in

gh the shadow, she saw shafts of broken marbles and heard the sound of slow-falling waters.

Brambles and thorns grew thickly about her, and her brown gingham dress was torn to shred

ee anything, for the darkness was not merely absence of light but had a positive, palpable quality, it enshrouded her a

h in th

ered past her and ghostly wings brushed her face, but, strangely, she had no fear. As her eyes became accu

undergrowth, and the paths were buried and choked by weeds. The desolate house beyond it loomed up whitely in the

The broken marbles, as she saw now, were statues that had been placed about the garden and had fallen into d

p of the long flight carefully before she trusted herself to it. When she reached the broad porch, her footsteps echoed strangely upon

solate

too, echoed and re-echoed in rhythmic pulsations that beat painfully

e stairway wound up from the hall, and there were two great room

same current of air that waved the cobwebs. There was no furniture of any description in the room, except the heavy, gilt-framed mirror over the mantel. It was cracked and much of the gilt frame had fallen away. She went

th a dome-shaped glass shade, precisely like that which covered the basket of wax flowers in Gra

roken

st, that the table-cover was made of brown alpaca, fringed all around by the fabric itsel

d and brown. At length she saw that it was broken and the pieces had been laid together,

g at her inmost soul. A tall, grey figure, mysteriously shrouded, stood motionless be

ret fires. Hunger and longing were in their depths, and yet there was a c

She felt an all-pervading calmness,

One's O

red from hers. They searched her inmost soul; they saw all things past and to come. Th

. "Who are you?" She did not reco

low, deep tones that vibrated through the

this

he Broken Heart

" she

choice. Why h

she repeated, dully. "

That is why I

many

es

ted her eyes to those of the grey figure. "Then

use of the Broken Heart. Each one is absorbed in his own grief to the exclu

ish

ng first she hears it crying for her in the room above, and then in the room below. Her husband sits at the foot

Rosemary, softl

time. There is a girl who has trusted and been betrayed, but she will go out again when her courage comes back. Just behind you is a woman who has estranged her husband from hi

asked, "is there

s. The consciousness of a

One

ning against the table. "Have

ainst, and a few, like yourse

I ma

ously. "Whenever you choose. You hav

e for me? Nobody eve

and, because you have not sinned, you ha

emary, very wistfull

said. "They all confuse the end with the means. Wh

greater jo

ways service and it may be sacrifice. It mea

Rosemary, stubbornly

o," he retu

able, the brown alpaca cover slipped back on the marble table and the glass case tottered. She ca

mbol o

ade no sound. He moved slowly, yet with a certain authority. He laid a letter on th

said, much disappointed. "

u," he returned, unmoved. "However, I

somewhat resentfully. "She's the dearest, swee

he explained, patiently. "Sometimes it happens

n Rosemary's head and gave her a white li

my

bol of Hope and wear your wreat

go from here? I'm afra

Upwar

ily. "Do not question Life too much," he warne

ey figure that stood by it, holding the letter addressed to Mrs. Virginia Marsh. When she was outside, she

en marble statues were green with mould and the falling waters seemed to move with difficulty, like the breath of one

doubt, now, about the path she must take. It led up, up, through thorns and brambles, past the crags upon which the first light shone

oming

lily she bore sustained her as she climbed. She was glad she had chosen as she had, though his words still puzzled he

. I should have taken the letter," she continued, to

premely sweet. She felt the colour burning in her cheeks, for she knew, now, that he awaited

et and blue mellowed into opal and turquoise, then, as the spectrum may merge into white light, a sh

ple. Rosemary's heart sang as she climbed, and the fragrance of the lily thrilled her soul with pure delight. The path was smooth, now

od-Stai

efforts were fruitless. The crimson spread and darkened until half of the white petals were dyed. She noted, with a queer lump in h

e in the sunrise Alden was waiting for her, and she climbed breathlessly. She was exhaus

y. Rainbow mists surrounded the height, but, as she looked, they lifted. She

ard him, but her feet refused to move. Then she calle

ng in

d, his youth surrounded him like some radiant garment of immortality. Every line of his figure was el

he words reverberated through her consciousness like a funeral kne

point where the coloured mists were slowly lifting. Rosemary, cold and

drifting rainbow beyond. Then a cry of rapture broke from him and he start

hose white gown shimmered and shone, and whose face

as in her own little room in the brown house, and the sun was peeping through the shutters. The holes in the rag carpet,

air F

lities. What had happened? Nothing, indeed, since yesterday-ah, that dear yesterday, when life had begun! What could ever happen n

ary, laughing to hersel

was the clear, sane light of every day. A robin outside her window chirped cheerily, and a bluebird flashed across the dis

ill voice sounded j

" she answered, hap

of every day-the splash of cool water on her face and throat, the patchwork qu

and Sa

er if it's true!" For an instant she was afraid, then her soul rallied as to a bugle call. "Even so,"

others were waiting. "You're late,

ping to kiss the withered cheek. "I'm

mpaniment. She had set the table the night before, as usual, so it was not long before she had br

This is for you, Grandmother. It's nice and soft, for I soak

ged glances. "What," asked Grandmother,

as Hap

unt Matilda, gloomily. "Do

eligion affect anybod

atilda admitted, afte

d Grandmother, reminiscently, "