THE FIELDS OF AMARANTH.
"I shall seek the fields of amaranth," said the young man defiantly. "And I shall find them," added he, turning tenderly to his mother. "And when I have found them I will comeback for you, dear mother, and I will take you with me that we may dwell there in peace."
"What do you know of peace, and why should you desire it?" asked the father, with a certain cold contempt in his tone. "You have not yet lived; and you have certainly not laboured. Rest is for those who have laboured and grown weary. In that rest that you desire you would have an empty mind for showman, and of its meagre entertainment you would tire as speedily as a child. Live first, and watch the puppets of memory play afterwards. The fields of amaranth will wait for you however long you live."
But the young man insisted: "I want to find them now. And when I have found them I will come for you, mother, dear; and we will return to them together and be happy and at peace."
But the mother's eyes were troubled with an inexplicable expression. "It were better that you should wait till I come to you," she answered gently. "As come to you I surely shall—one day. But come not to fetch me . . . if once you find the fields."
"I surely shall come for you," cried the youth.
"No, no!" implored the mother.
But he smiled on her, and was gone.
It was a long journey, and a toilsome one, and the end of it the youth could neither learn of nor anticipate.