of; but to see it would not have troubled
you."

"Dear father," I said, "how is it that I am not sleepy? I thought I
should go to sleep like the Little Ones the moment I laid my head down!"

"Your hour is not quite come. You must have food ere you sleep."

"Ah, I ought not to have lain down without your leave, for I cannot
sleep without your help! I will get up at once!"

But I found my own weight more than I could move.

"There is no need: we will serve you here," he answered. "--You do not
feel cold, do you?"

"Not too cold to lie still, but perhaps too cold to eat!"

He came to the side of my couch, bent over me, and breathed on my heart.
At once I was warm.

As he left me, I heard a voice, and knew it was the Mother's. She was
singing, and her song was sweet and soft and low, and I thought she sat
by my bed in the dark; but ere it ceased, her song soared aloft, and
seemed to come from the throat of a woman-angel, high above all the
region of larks, higher than man had ever yet lifted up his heart. I
heard every word she sang, but could keep only this:--

"Many a wrong, and its curing song;
Many a road, and many an inn;
Room to roam, but only one home
For all the world to win!"

and I thought I had heard the song before.

Then the three came to my couch together, bringing me bread and wine,
and I sat up to partake of it. Adam stood on one side of me, Eve and
Mara on the other.

"You are good indeed, father Adam, mother Eve, sister Mara," I said, "to
receive me! In my soul I am ashamed and sorry!"

"We knew you would come again!" answered Eve.

"How could you know it?" I returned.

"Because here was I, born to look after my brothers and sisters!"
answered Mara with a smile.

"Every creature must one night yield himself and lie down," answered
Adam: "he was made for liberty, and must not be left a slave!"

"It will be late, I fear, ere all have lain down!" I said.

"There is no early or late here," he rejoined. "For him the true time
then first begins who lays himself down. Men are not coming home fast;
women are coming faster. A desert, wide and dreary, parts him who lies
down to die from him who lies down to live. The former may well make
haste, but here is no haste."

"To our eyes," said Eve, "you were coming all the time: we knew Mara
would find you, and you must come!"

"How long is it since my father lay down?" I asked.

"I have told you that years are of no