The sunlight was flooding in at the open lattice and, as if borne

upon this shaft of glory, came the mingled fragrance of herb and

flower and ripening fruit with the blithe carolling of birds, a very

paean of thanksgiving; the chirp of sparrows, the soft, rich notes

of blackbirds, the warbling trill of thrushes, the far, faint song

of larks high in the blue--it was all there, blent into one

harmonious chorus of joy, a song that spoke of hope and a fair future

to such as were blessed with ears to hear. And by this, our Barnabas,

opening drowsy eyes and hearkening with drowsy ears, judged it was

yet early morning.

He lay very still and full of a great content because of the glory

of the sun and the merry piping of the birds.

But, little by little, as he hearkened, he became conscious of

another sound, a very gentle sound, yet insistent because of its

regularity, a soft click! click! click! that he could in no wise

account for. Therefore he would have turned his head, and

straightway wondered to find this so difficult to accomplish;

moreover he became aware that he lay in a bed, undressed, and that

his arm and shoulder were bandaged. And now, all at once he forgot

the bird-song and the sunshine, his brow grew harassed and troubled,

and with great caution he lifted his free hand to his neck and began

to feel for a certain ribbon that should be there. And presently,

having found the ribbon, his questing fingers followed it down into

his bosom until they touched a little, clumsily-wrought linen bag,

that he had fashioned, once upon a time, with infinite trouble and

pains, and in which he had been wont to carry the dried-up wisp of

what had once been a fragrant, scarlet rose.

And now, having found this little bag, he lay with brow still

troubled as one in some deep perplexity, the while his fingers felt

and fumbled with it clumsily. This was the little bag indeed; he

knew it by reason of its great, uneven stitches and its many knots

and ends of cotton; yes, this was it beyond all doubt, and yet?

Truly it was the same, but with a difference.

Now as he lay thus, being full of trouble because of this difference

which he could in no wise understand, he drew a deep sigh, which was

answered all at once by another; the soft clicking sound abruptly

ceased and he knew that some one had risen and now stood looking down

at him. Therefore Barnabas presently turned his head and saw a face

bent over him, a face with cheeks suspiciously pink, framed in curls

suspiciously dark and glossy, but with eyes wonderfully young and

bright and handsome; in one small, white hand was a needle and silk,

and in the other, a very diminutive piece of embroidery.




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