to the Sisters and remain with them
always."

Through the doors opening before the Jotun there came in a sudden buzz
of laughing voices, while a breeze brought through the window a ringing
of bells and a clarioning of approaching horns. Upon the girl in the
shadow and the King on the dais, the sounds fell like the dissolving of
a spell. She ran swiftly to the little door behind the tapestry and let
herself out unseen, unheard. The King mounted the throne he had won
and sat there in regal state, facing the throng of splendid courtiers
trooping in to give him their wedding greetings.

Chapter XXXII. In Time's Morning

He wins who woos.
Ha'vama'l.

The hot glare of a July sun was on the stones of the Watling Street and
July winds were driving hosts of battling dust-clouds along the highway,
but in the herb garden of Saint Mildred's cool shadows lay over the
dew-beaded grass and all was restfulness and peace. The voice of the
girl who was following Sister Wynfreda from mint clump to parsley bed,
from fennel to rue, was not much louder than the droning of the bees in
the lavender.

"If it be true as you say,--" she was speaking with the passionate
bitterness of wounded youth,--"if it be true that in his place anyone
would have believed what he believed, then is this a very hateful world
and I want no further part in it."

Over the fragrant leaves which she was touching as fondly as if they had
been children's faces, Sister Wynfreda gently shook her head. "Think not
that it is altogether through the world's evil-heartedness, dear child.
Think rather that it is because mankind is not always brave and shrinks
from disappointment, that it dares not believe in good until good is
proved."

"I know that one dares not always believe in happiness," the girl
conceded slowly, "for when my happiness was like a green swelling wave,
white fear sprang from the crest of it and it fell--Sister, did that
forebode my sorrow?"

Awhile, the nun's eyes widened and paled as eyes that see a vision, but
at last she bowed her head to trace a cross upon her breast. "Not so; it
is God's wisdom," she said, "else would the world be so beautiful that
we would never hunger after heaven."

Mechanically, Randalin's hands followed hers through the holy sign; then
she clasped them before her to wring them in impatient pain. "That is so
long to go hungry, Sister! I shall be past my appetite." Dropping down
beside the other,