nne, 'it clings more safely and fearlessly round the
simplest and most despised of plants. And would you call the little
pink bindweed childish innocence?'

'No, I do not think I should,' said Elizabeth, 'it is not sufficiently
stainless. But then innocence, from not seeing or knowing what is
wrong, is not like the guilelessness which can use the world as not
abusing it.'

'Yet Adam and Eve fell when they gained the knowledge of good and
evil,' said Anne.

'Yes, because they gained their knowledge by doing evil,' said
Elizabeth, 'but you must allow that what is tried and not found wanting
is superior to what has failed only because it has had no trial. St.
John's Day is placed nearer Christmas than that of the Holy Innocents.'

'And St. John knew what evil was,' said Anne; 'yes you are right there.'

'You speak as if you still had some fault to find with me, Anne,' said
Elizabeth.

'No, indeed I have not,' said Anne, 'I quite agree with you; it was
only your speaking of knowledge of evil us a kind of advantage, that
startled me.'

'Because you think knowledge and discernment my idol,' said Elizabeth;
'but we have wandered far away from my white convolvulus, and I have
not done with it yet. When autumn came, and the leaves turned bright
yellow, it was a golden crown.'

'But there your comparison ends,' said Anne; 'the laurel ought to
vanish away, and leave the golden wreath behind.'

'No,' said Elizabeth; 'call the golden wreath the crown of glory on the
brow of the old saint-like hero, and remember that when he dies, the
immortality the world prizes is that of the coarse evergreen laurel,
and no one dreams of his white wreath.'

'I wish you would make a poem of your comparison, for the beginning of
my book of chivalry,' said Anne.

'It will not do,' said Elizabeth, 'I am no poet; besides, if I wished
to try, just consider what a name the flower has--con-vol-vu-lus, a
prosaic, dragging, botanical term, a mile long. Then bindweed only
reminds me of smothered and fettered raspberry bushes, and a great hoe.
Lily, as the country people call it, is not distinguishing enough,
besides that no one ever heard of a climbing lily. But, Anne, do tell
me whom you have in your book of knights. I know of a good many in the
real heroic age, but tell me some of the later ones.'

'Lord Exmouth,' said Anne; 'I am sure he was a true knight.'

'And the Vendeen leaders, I suppose,' said Elizabeth.

'Yes, I have writte