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to find the words that shall prove an opensesame to your heart."

“God's own music," I heard her mur

mur.

She looked like a flower unfolding itself for the first time to drink in the warmth of the sun. She looked like a lily changing to a rose. Shyly she raised her eyes to mine and said:

“Was the Knight of the Holy Grail gone long? If so, don't go; perhaps you might find the right words here."

Then the soft singing of the pines ceased, the checkered spots of sunlight on the path stopped dancing, and nature stood still and quiet, and watched with love and admiration the unfolding of this gentle heart. It knew that of all the wondrous changes it wrought in the world, as from seed to tree, from darkness to light, there was nothing so radiantly beautiful as the dawn of love in a pure woman's heart.

I stopped and faced her, took her fragile white hand in mine, and in a voice husky with emotion, said: "I know three words I might say. They may be the right ones, but should they be the wrong, my days would be all nights, my life all gray, my hopes all dead.”

Her head bent forward, but from between her lips I heard the words: —

Knights were always courageous, were

they not?”

Then with no uncertain voice, but loudly and proudly I cried, "I love you!”

And a soft echo came back," And I you."

Once again the pines sang, the sunlight danced, and all nature bounded ahead for joy. To me the world seemed suddenly full of vibrant music that shook all my senses into life as they had never known life before, and centred them on one being. To me the universe had reduced itself to one woman. The right words had been spoken, the open-sesame found.

When I leaned forward and kissed her, Peace took Love by the hand and they passed together into my heart and left no room for fear.

Answer me the question, shall I retrace my steps ?

Possibly you wonder how I can write you so fully about anything so personal, but remember, to you, she will always be a creature of my imagination, you will never know her, never even see her, so I feel guilty of no breach of confidence; besides, when burdens become too heavy they must be shared, even the burden of joy. My happiness is too great for me to bear alone. She is the glint of light at the end of my mental vista. Whatever line of thought I look down. I see her smiling, intelligent face at the end, with a knowing look, which seems to say: “Oh, why waste words! I know what you would say before you speak," and I, soul-parched man that I am, revel in the fact that at last I am anticipated in my thoughts.

Man, — I worship her; if I had as many sides as you can make combinations of figures she would appeal to them all. I would rather kiss the tips of her fingers, her very nails, than the responsive lips of a houri. To-day, what took place between us, was to me a religious service. In the reed-like top of a giant pine beneath which we stood, the wind was busy singing in a monotone; - it was the Muezzin of the West calling the forest to prayer.

Again I ask you — shall I retrace my steps?

Yours,

DOUGLAS.

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