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But in the virgin chamber and temple of her heart, She set one sacred passion and worshiped there apart. There was one whose eyes were tender and whose hand upon her hand Led her pure thoughts thru the borders of a new and holy land. Not a word of love he told her, yet there seemed no need to tell That which his pleading fingers on her organ spoke so well. Day by day he taught her music, bending her white hands above ; Day by day the pupil listened, forgot music, learnt to love. Then, her nearness was an incense, and her presence, as a p^rayer, Beat her face within his bosom, shone her radiance everywhere ; And one golden gift of Maytime set his captive secret free. ''It were braver not to tell you — yet I am not brave, Marie — Of the love that, night and daytime, clamors in the heart of me.*' Straight she raised her sweet face to him, all her brave soul in her eyesMaidenly revealing, tender, sweetheart-bright and woman-wise. Heart on heart one moment throbbing, lips on young lips ardent burn ; Then an angry voice behind them bids the startled lovers turn. In the doorway stood the father, eyes with thwarted pride aflame. Heaped the maid with hot reproaches, called the lad a hateful name — "Beggar!" till the hurt blood, surging in his temples, hammered slow. ' * Not for such as you my daughter. Take your cursed pay and go ! ' ' (Even now the old heart quivers with the lash of Long Ago !)
The lowlands lay aflame with Spring, with fruited orchards spread — Wee orange suns among the trees, and a great sun overhead; But Joseph gloomed along the way, the song within him dead. Like a shadow across the morning, in his sober hood and gown, Good Friar John, Franciscan, was plodding toward the town,
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