Barbara Winslow, Rebel

by Beth Ellis

"You are right, Barbara," he said softly; "who was I to speak to you of love? Yet now, God helping me, my life, my love, shall prove as worthy of you as you are worthy of the best a man may give."

But still her eyes looked on him pityingly.

"And, Ralph," she pleaded, "surely love is not all to a man. There are other prizes worth the winning: fame, power, knowledge, may not these fill your heart?"

He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Nay, Barbara, when I ask for bread, wilt throw me a stone? Leave me my love, dear, it sufficeth me. All I ask of life now is grace to prove me worthy to live in your memory."

So he spake, nor dreamed that in a few short years, his love would have faded to a tender memory, and life, fame, honour, again be all in all.

So they turned and went back through the copse into the sunlit garden, and Ralph, his heart still heavy beneath his sorrow, passed on into the shadow of the house.

But Barbara lingered in the full blaze of the sunshine, on the glittering, dew-encrusted lawn. And since love is ever selfish, the memory of Ralph's trouble faded quickly in the glory and the triumph of her own sweet dream of love. For in reading Ralph's heart she had learned at last to read her own. She knew now that God's great gift was hers, that her heart had learned the world's secret, and she loved with a love that crowned her life with glory. So her heart leapt out to the sunshine, and it seemed to her, as she stood thus, in the beauty of the garden, that all nature knew her joy; the wind whispered it to the trees, the birds sang it to the sunbeams, and the great deep-hearted roses, pouring forth their souls in a passionate sigh of fragrance, bowed their heads at her passing as to their queen, to whom was given all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, to whom was revealed all the beauty and the treasures and the wonders of the earth.

For so is ever the first coming of love to a woman; loving, purified, one with all the world, she walks innocent as Eve in the garden of Eden, dreaming that God hath blessed her above all women, and that from thenceforth the purpose of her being is fulfilled. So Barbara dreamed away the time, in the glory of the sunshine, and the sweetness of her joy-crowned youth.

Soon Cicely stepped from the deep shadow of the wide doorway, and came slowly down the garden, stopping ever and anon to gather one of the delicate roses, late-blossoming on the trees. And as she approached she eyed Barbara questioningly and smiled at her own thoughts.