eautiful--Joy, First-Joy
was it called. The sunlight when it shines upon the merry water is not
so glad; the rosebuds, when they turn back their lips for the sun's
first kiss, are not so ruddy. Its tiny pulses beat quick. It was
so warm, so soft! It never spoke, but it laughed and played in the
sunshine: and Love and Life rejoiced exceedingly. Neither whispered it
to the other, but deep in its own heart each said, "It shall be ours for
ever."

Then there came a time--was it after weeks? was it after months? (Love
and Life do not measure time)--when the thing was not as it had been.

Still it played; still it laughed; still it stained its mouth with
purple berries; but sometimes the little hands hung weary, and the
little eyes looked out heavily across the water.

And Life and Love dared not look into each other's eyes, dared not say,
"What ails our darling?" Each heart whispered to itself, "It is nothing,
it is nothing, tomorrow it will laugh out clear." But tomorrow and
tomorrow came. They journeyed on, and the child played beside them, but
heavily, more heavily.

One day Life and Love lay down to sleep; and when they awoke, it
was gone: only, near them, on the grass, sat a little stranger, with
wide-open eyes, very soft and sad. Neither noticed it; but they walked
apart, weeping bitterly, "Oh, our Joy! our lost Joy! shall we see you no
more for ever?"

The little soft and sad-eyed stranger slipped a hand into one hand of
each, and drew them closer, and Life and Love walked on with it between
them. And when Life looked down in anguish, she saw her tears reflected
in its soft eyes. And when Love, mad with pain, cried out, "I am weary,
I am weary! I can journey no further. The light is all behind, the dark
is all before," a little rosy finger pointed where the sunlight lay upon
the hill-sides. Always its large eyes were sad and thoughtful: always
the little brave mouth was smiling quietly.

When on the sharp stones Life cut her feet, he wiped the blood upon his
garments, and kissed the wounded feet with his little lips. When in the
desert Love lay down faint (for Love itself grows faint), he ran over
the hot sand with his little naked feet, and even there in the desert
found water in the holes in the rocks to moisten Love's lips with. He
was no burden--he never weighted them; he only helped them forward on
their journey.

When they came to the dark ravine where the icicles hang from the
rocks--for Love and Life