oseph stand, thinking himself alone with his violin; and the
violin was his mediator with her, and was pleading and pleading for the
admittance of its master. It prayed, it wept, it implored. It cried
aloud that eternity was very long, and like a great palace without a
quiet room. "Gorgeous is the glory," it sang; "white are the garments,
and lovely are the faces of the holy; they look upon me gently and
sweetly, but pitifully, for they know that I am alone--yet not alone,
for I love. Oh, rather a thousand-fold let me love and be alone, than
be content and joyous with them all, free of this pang which tells me
of a bliss yet more complete, fulfilling the gladness of heaven!"

All the time Joseph knew nothing of where his soul was; for he thought
Mary was in the shop, and beyond the hearing of his pleader. Nor was
this exactly the shape the thing took to the consciousness of the
musician. He seemed to himself to be standing alone in a starry and
moonlit night, among roses, and sweet-peas, and apple-blossoms--for the
soul cares little for the seasons, and will make its own month out of
many. On the bough of an apple-tree, in the fair moonlight, sat a
nightingale, swaying to and fro like one mad with the wine of his own
music, singing as if he wanted to break his heart and have done, for
the delight was too much for mortal creature to endure. And the song of
the bird grew the prayer of a man in the brain and heart of the
musician, and thence burst, through the open fountain of the violin,
and worked what it could work, in the world of forces. "I love thee! I
love thee! I love thee!" cried the violin; and the worship was entreaty
that knew not itself. On and on it went, ever beginning ere it ended,
as if it could never come to a close; and the two sat listening as if
they cared but to hear, and would listen for ever--listening as if,
when the sound ceased, all would be at an end, and chaos come again.

Ah, do not blame, thou who lovest God, and fearest the love of the
human! Hast thou yet to learn that the love of the human is love, is
divine, is but a lower form of a part of the love of God? When thou
lovest man, or woman, or child, yea, or even dog, aright, then wilt
thou no longer need that I tell thee how God and his Christ would not
be content with each other alone in the glories even of the eternal
original love, because they could create more love. For that more love,
together they suffered and patiently waited. He t