s; and then he burst away, ashamed, if the truth be
told, that his love was not deeper than he found it to be.

He slept a light sleep that night, his head pillowed on his hand,
with many strange dreams ranging through his head. Among other
fancies, some sweet, some dark, he heard a delicate passage of melody
played, it seemed to him, by three silver-sounding flutes, so delicate
that he could hardly contain himself for gladness; but among his
sadder dreams was one of a little man habited like a minstrel who
played an ugly enchanted kind of melody on a stringed lute, and smiled
a treacherous smile at him; Paul woke in a sort of fever of the
spirit; and rising from his bed, felt the floor cool to his feet, and
drew his curtain aside; in a tender radiance of dawn he saw the barn,
deep in shadow, in the little garden; and over them a little wood-end
that he knew well by day--a simple place enough--but now it had a sort
of magical dreaming air; the mist lay softly about it like the breath
of sleep; and the trees, stretching wistfully their leafy arms, seemed
to him to be full of silent prayer, or to be hiding within them some
divine secret that might not be shown to mortal eyes. He looked long
at this; and presently went back to his bed, and shivered in a
delicious warmth, while outside, very gradually, came the peaceful
stir of morning. A bird or two fluted drowsily in the bushes; then
another further away would join his slender song; a cock crew cheerily
in a distant grange, and soon it was broad day. Presently the house
began to be softly astir; and the faint fragrance of an early kindled
fire of wood stole into the room. Then, worn out by his long vigil, he
fell asleep again; and soon waking, knew it to be later than was his
wont, and dressed with haste. He came down, and heard voices in the
hall; he went in, and there saw Mistress Alison in her chair; and on
the hearth, talking gaily and cheerily, stood Mark the minstrel. They
made a pause when he came in. Mark extended his hand, which Paul took
with a kind of reverence. Then Mistress Alison, with her sweet old
smile, said to Paul, "So you made a pilgrimage to the Well of the
Heart's Desire, dear Paul? Well, you have your wish, and very soon;
for here is a master for you, if you will serve him." "Not a light
service, Paul," said Mark gravely, "but a true one. I can take you
with me when you may go, for my boy Jack is fallen sick with a stroke
of the sun, and must bide a