e to end."

"Ay," said Master Jonson, "it is."

So they all got up softly and went out into the garden, where there were
seats under the trees among the rose-bushes, and talked quietly among
themselves, saying not much, yet meaning a great deal.

But Nick and Cicely said "Good-night, sirs," to them all, and bowed; and
Master Shakspere himself let them out at the gate, the others shaking
Nick by the hand with many kind wishes, and throwing kisses to Cicely
until they went out of sight around the chapel corner.

When the children came to the garden-gate in front of Nick's father's
house, the red roses still twined in Cicely's hair, Simon Attwood and
his wife Margaret were sitting together upon the old oaken settle by the
door, looking out into the sunset. And when they saw the children
coming, they arose and came through the garden to meet them, Nick's
mother with outstretched hands, and her face bright with the glory of
the setting sun. And when she came to where he was, the whole of that
long, bitter year was nothing any more to Nick.

For then--ah, then--a lad and his mother; a son come home, the wandering
ended, and the sorrow done!

She took him to her breast as though he were a baby still; her tears ran
down upon his face, yet she was smiling--a smile like which there is no
other in all the world: a mother's smile upon her only son, who was
astray, but has come home again.

Oh, the love of a lad for his mother, the love of a mother for her
son--unchanged, unchanging, for right, for wrong, through grief and
shame, in joy, in peace, in absence, in sickness, and in the shadow of
death! Oh, mother-love, beyond all understanding, so holy that words but
make it common!

"My boy!" was all she said; and then, "My boy--my little boy!"

And after a while, "Mother," said he, and took her face between his
strong young hands, and looked into her happy eyes, "mother dear, I ha?
been to London town; I ha' been to the palace, and I ha' seen the Queen;
but, mother," he said, with a little tremble in his voice, for all he
smiled so bravely, "I ha' never seen the place where I would rather be
than just where thou art, mother dear!"

The soft gray twilight gathered in the little garden; far-off voices
drifted faintly from the town. The day was done. Cool and still, and
filled with gentle peace, the starlit night came down from the dewy
hills; and Cicely lay fast asleep in Simon Attwood's arms.

***END OF THE PROJECT GU