of such endeavors. Much is permitted us--'but of the fruit of the
tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, to us who are
no more than human, Ye shall not eat of it.'"

"Yet Dr. Herrick, as many other men have done, thought otherwise. I,
too, will venture a quotation. 'Didst thou never see a lark in a cage?
Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little turf of
grass, and the heavens o'er our heads, like her looking-glass, only
gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison.'
Many years ago that lamentation was familiar. What wonder, then, that
Dr. Herrick should have dared to repeat it yesterday? And what wonder
if he tried to free the prisoner?"

"Such freedom is forbidden," Sir Thomas stubbornly replied. "I have
long known that Herrick was formerly in correspondence with John
Heydon, and Robert Flood, and others of the Illuminated, as they call
themselves. There are many of this sect in England, as we all know;
and we hear much silly chatter of Elixirs and Philosopher's Stones in
connection with them. But I happen to know somewhat of their real aims
and tenets. I do not care to know any more than I do. If it be true
that all of which man is conscious is just a portion of a curtain, and
that the actual universe in nothing resembles our notion of it, I am
willing to believe this curtain was placed there for some righteous and
wise reason. They tell me the curtain may be lifted. Whether this be
true or no, I must for my own sanity's sake insist it can never be
lifted."

"But what if it were not forbidden? For Dr. Herrick asserts he has
already demonstrated that."

Sir Thomas interrupted, with odd quickness. "True, we must bear it in
mind the man never married--Did he, by any chance, possess a crystal of
Venice glass three inches square?"

And Borsdale gaped. "I found it with his manuscript. But he said
nothing of it. . . . How could you guess?"

Sir Thomas reflectively scraped the edge of the glass with his
finger-nail. "You would be none the happier for knowing, Philip. Yes,
that is a blood-stain here. I see. And Herrick, so far as we know,
had never in his life loved any woman. He is the only poet in history
who never demonstrably loved any woman. I think you had better read me
his manuscript, Philip."

This Philip Borsdale did.

Then Sir Thomas said, as quiet epilogue: "This, if it be true, would
explain much as to that lovely land of