The boy grasped my hand a moment—gasped out "That's Jessie's mother, something's happened"—and then bounded up the stairs and into the room. I followed him and found sure enough something had happened, for Jessie had gone to the land of pure delight, and the mother stood weeping beside her dead. On the face of Jessie lingered a smile, for she was well at last. In her hand was a pure white rosebud, the last flower Joe had carried to her the evening before. Her last message to him was that she had gone to the land of pure delight, and for him to be sure and follow her there.
I draw the curtain over the boy's grief. His savings bought the coffin in which Jessie was laid under the green sod. Where "His Royal Highness" is, must for the present remain a secret between Joe and myself. His face and his feet are turned toward the land of pure delight. His heart is there already. You have his story, and it may help you to remember that some paupers wear fine linen and broadcloth, while here and there a prince is to be found clothed in rags.
PATIENT GRISELDA.
Many years ago, in a lovely country of Italy, shut in by Alpine mountains, there lived a noble young duke, who was lord over all the land. He was one of a long line of good princes, and his people loved him dearly. They had only one fault to find with him, for he made good laws, and ruled them tenderly; but alas! he would not marry. So his people feared he would not leave any son to inherit his dukedom. Every morning his wise counsellors asked him if he had made up his mind on the subject of marriage, and every morning the young duke heard them patiently; and as soon as they had spoken, he answered, "I am thinking of marriage, my lords; but this is a matter which requires much thought."
Then he called for his black hunting-steed and held up his gloved hand for his white falcon to come and alight upon his wrist, and off he galloped to the hunt, of which he was passionately fond, and which absorbed all the time that was not occupied with the cares of his government.
But after a while, his counsellors insisted on being answered more fully.
"Most dear prince," urged they, "only fancy what a dreadful thing it would be if you should be taken from your loving people, and leave no one in your place. What fighting, and confusion, and anarchy there would be over your grave! All this could never happen, if you had a sweet wife, who would bring you, from God, a noble son, to grow up to be your successor."
The morning on which they urged this so strongly, Duke Walter stood on the steps of his palace, in his hunting-suit of green velvet, with his beautiful falcon perched on his wrist, while a page in waiting stood by holding his horse. Suddenly he faced about, and looked full at his advisers.
"What you say is very wise," he answered. "To-day I am going to follow your advice. This is my wedding-day."
Here all the counsellors stared at each other with round eyes.