The next day he wandered into a forest of the Seven Mountains, still thinking of his plan. He chanced to look up the mountain side, when he beheld the queer old man again; he was now leaning on a staff on a rocky wall.
He lifted his staff and began to draw a picture on a rock behind him. The lines were of fire.
Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how glorious, it all was!
THE MYSTERIOUS ARCHITECT.
Fretwork, spandrels, and steeples. It was—it was the very design that had haunted the poor architect, that flitted across his mind in dreams but left no memory.
“Will you have my plan?” asked the old man.