"Yes," said the Father, "you may go down to earth, but be sure to stay no longer than a day; and when you come back to heaven bring me the loveliest flower you can find, that I may transplant it to my garden and love it for its beauty and its fragrance. Cherish it tenderly, that no harm may befall it."
Then the angel went down to the earth, and he came to a beautiful rose-bush upon which bloomed a rose lovelier and more fragrant than any of her kind.
"Heyday, sweet rose," said the angel; "how proudly you hold up your fair head for the winds to kiss."
"Ay, that I do," replied the rose, blushing, albeit she enjoyed the flattery. "But I do not care for these idle zephyrs nor for the wanton sunbeams that dance among my leaves all the day long. To-night a cavalier will come hither and tear me from this awkward bush with all its thorns, and kiss me with impassioned lips, and bear me to his lady, who, too, will kiss me and wear me on her bosom, next her heart. That, O angel, is the glory of the rose—to be a bearer of kisses from lover to lover, and to hear the whispered vows of the cavalier and his lady, to feel the beating of a gentle heart, and to wither on the white bosom of a wooed maiden."
Then the angel came to a lily that arose fair and majestic from its waxen leaves and bowed gracefully to each passing breeze.
"Why are you so pale and sad, dear lily?" asked the angel.
"My love is the north wind," said the lily, "and I look for him and mourn because he does not come. And when he does come, and I would smile under his caresses, he is cold and harsh and cruel to me, and I wither and die for a season, and when I am wooed back to life again by the smiles and tears of heaven, which are the sunlight and the dew, lo! he is gone."
The angel smiled sadly to hear of the trusting, virgin fidelity of the lily.
"Tell me," asked the lily, "will the north wind come to-day?"
"No," said the angel, "nor for many days yet, since it is early summer now."