the yield of other
vineyards in the same valley.

Finally the last grapes were gathered, the last baskets packed and
crated, and along the road the laden waggons creaked for the last time.
Then the young man gave a great feast for the workers, lasting from noon
until midnight, with pitchers of cider, great loaves of freshly baked
bread and cake, roasted fowls, hot baked potatoes, and pink hams,
crusted with crumbs and cloves and sugar, that fell into flakes at the
touch of the knife.

[Sidenote: The Veil of Beauty]

The same waggons that had carried the grapes now took the workers to the
train. The young man who had paid them their wages accompanied them,
and, at the station, there was a great medley of farewells spoken in
five or six different tongues. When the last shriek of the engine had
died away and the roar of the train was lost in the distance, the young
man drew a long breath of relief and went home.

A deadly silence reigned upon the hillside where the torn web lay, its
bloom and beauty all gone. Ragged bits of green, mingled with dull brown
tracery of vine and tendril, lay back upon the background of earth, but
of purple there was no trace. In the hush of the night, the Weaver came
back, to muse sadly over what had been and, perhaps, to dream of what
yet might be.

There was chance of no more weaving, for the threads were broken and the
time was short, but the rack and ruin were pitiful to see. So, from
hidden places no man may guess, the Weaver summoned the Secret Spinners,
bidding them lay a veil upon the vineyard.

Swiftly there came forth a miracle of beauty. Fairy lace and impalpable
mysteries of chiffon were laid upon the hillside, spreading from vine to
vine. Sometimes a single slender thread, impearled with dewdrops,
bridged the distance from one tendril to another, again a bit of cobweb
was spread over a dead leaf, to catch a hint of iridescence from the
sun or moon; and now and then a shimmering length of ghostly fabric was
set in place at dusk, to hold the starry lights that came to shine upon
the broken tapestry with the peace of benediction.

[Sidenote: Content at Last]

Along the well-trodden ways Alden went, tired, but content, having come
at last to the knowledge of himself. Already he was planning to enlarge
the vineyard next year, and to try another variety of grapes upon the
new ground. He considered one plan to hurry the packing, another to
hasten the crop, and studied the probl