d whose throne the pure souls of
sinless little ones float as an effluence of Thy love, grant to the soul
of our infant King, Thy joy perpetual.

_Thy joy perpetual!_

O Thou, supreme in justice, Ruler of all rulers and Judge of all men,
grant to the rulers of this Court wisdom, that they may judge
righteously!

_That they may judge righteously!_

Yet, O Eternal Father, Thou who art merciful, grant us to temper
judgment with mercy.

_Judgment with mercy!_

Thou, who art Everlasting Truth, grant us to be true.

_Grant us to be true!_

And then, while the Archbishop was standing with hands outspread in
benediction over the kneeling throng, the music of a wonderful, rhythmic
_Amen_, oft repeated, thrilled and throbbed from arch to arch.

* * * * *

How cruel the changes that had swept the island-kingdom since the last
High Court had assembled in this Council-Chamber! Their young and
charming monarch, in the very exuberance of life, had been summoned
without warning to lay it down. His little child, the hope of the realm,
had come and passed as swiftly as some fair vision of the night, leaving
scarcely a trace of his short earthly career save in the heart of the
mother where its every memory would be cherished deathlessly. And for
their fair young Queen, who stood among them widowed and childless--in
lieu of the fulfilment of the radiant hopes which had brought her
hither, there had been a pitiful record of conspiracy, betrayal and
captivity.

These memories smote upon the nobler souls in the throng, moving them to
compassion and admiration; for what knight among them could more bravely
have borne such suffering and thwarting?

But Caterina, in trailing garments glistening like the snows of Troodos,
stood like a queenly lily among her white-robed maids of honor, exalted
by the solemnity of the service and looking deep into the heart of her
life-problems--ignoring self and contests--dreaming only of duty and the
achievement that her people's love might render possible.

They had feared to see her in mourning robes, with a woful court about
her,--trembling, sorrow-weighted, pitiful and unimpressive; and a low
murmur of admiration just stirred the hush of the chamber as she took
her place under the royal canopy and turned to confront the great
assembly--the strength of suffering and resolve in the beautiful
unsmiling face, which yet seemed to promise and crave for love--to plead