ngry-eyed woman on
the plateau.

All at once she gathered her skirt with a joyous cry and ran with lithe,
elastic steps down through the village.

They met on a low, rounded hill near the plain.

"My son, my darling!" she cried, catching him passionately to her bosom.
"We have searched, and waited, and agonized," she continued after a
pause, smiling at him through her happy tears. "But it matters nothing
now. I have thee again."

"My mother," said the boy as he caressed her cheek, looking at her
dreamily, "I have been with my cousin. Even now he waits below for me. I
must bid thee farewell. I must pass from thy face forever."

His lip trembled a little, but he smiled bravely. "For it is the will of
God, the Father."

The mother's face went ashen. She tottered and would have fallen but for
his slender arm about her.

Her thoughts were whirling in wild confusion, yet she knew that she must
decide calmly, wisely, quickly.

Her lips moved, but made no sound.

"Oh, lay Thy wise and gracious hand upon me!" was what she breathed in
silence.

Then her voice sounded rich and happy and fresh, as it had always
sounded for him.

"His will be done. Thou comest to bid farewell to thy brothers and
father?"

"It may not be," he answered. "My lot henceforth is to flee the touch of
the world, the unsympathetic eye, the ribald tongue of those like my
brothers--the defilement of common life."

The mother pressed him closer.

"Say all that is in thine heart," she murmured. "We will bide here."

They sank down together on the soft, bright turf, facing the brilliance
of the west, she holding her child as of old in the hollow of her arm.

He began to speak.

"For long and long a voice within me said, 'Go and seek thy cousin.' So
I sought and found, and we abode together in the woods and fields, and
were friends with our dear brothers the beasts, and the fishes, and the
birds. There, day by day, my cousin would tell me of the dream that
filled his soul and of the holy men who had put the dream there."

The mother's eyes grew larger with a swift terror, but she held her
peace.

"And at the last, when the beauty, the wind, the sun, the rain, and the
voice of God, had purified me in some measure, my cousin brought me to
visit these holy men."

The clear, boyish voice rose and began to vibrate with enthusiasm.

"Ah, mother, _they_ are the chosen ones of God! Sweet and grave and
gentle they are, and theirs is the perfect