"I am the death-hour of a great poet. He died happily, having enriched
the world with his song. The moon kissed his lips as he breathed his
last in my arms."
"Whither are they going?" asked Beryl, as the hours floated through the
hall.
"I will show thee," said the youth, leading her into the open.
The air was keen. In the distance, Beryl could hear the sound of the
sea. Heavy clouds of mist hung around the castle. The maiden stooped to
pluck one of the colourless flowers that bloomed in the garden. To her
surprise, she could not break its stalk. She hurried after the youth,
who was standing on a jutting piece of rock, some paces away.
"Look," he said, "yonder, to westward."
The maiden saw the winged hours floating over the sea. Far away she
beheld a dim coast-line of a distant country. The sky on that far shore
was a mass of rosy clouds, rosier still to Beryl's eyes, accustomed as
she had become to the greyness and mist of the country of Time.
"The sea which lies beneath us is the sea of Eternity, and yonder land
is the Garden of the Past. The sun always shines there; the past forges
its own halo."
Beryl watched in silence the flying shadows floating over the Eternal
Sea. The hours of her earliest days were there, in that Garden of the
Past. If she went thither, should she find them, and with them the
playmates and the innocence of childhood?
Time noticed the sorrowful expression of her face, and pitied her.
"Maiden," he said, "thou must not look backwards. Let the aged dream of
the days that are gone; thy future is before thee. It waits for thee,
yonder behind the sun that is rising on the world. Wilt thou go with me
and give up thy wish, content to let the Village of Youth grow old, as
is the fate of all things mortal? Thou wilt be happier in thine own
country. Far away, in its valleys, the flowers and the summer call for
thee. Come."
He stepped into his chariot, and held out his arms towards her.
"Nay, good my lord; I will await thee here, and try to forget the
flowers and the summer, remembering only thee and thy promise."
The youth waved his hand in token of adieu, and vanished from her sight.
[Illustration]
After her companion's departure she roamed about the garden. That
portion of it which surrounded the palace was bare and treeless, but in
the distance she could see forests of white poplars. She found some
grey poppies in the garden not unlike those that bloomed in the Village
of Youth, excepting that these of the country of Time had thick pulpy
stems, resembling the water-lily. A straggling plant attracted her
notice; it looked like hemlock, only that the flower was of a deep
purple. Lifting her face from the gloom of the floral beds, her eyes
rested on the Garden of the Past. The wish to explore it, and to find in
its green mazes her early days once more, was irresistible.
Trembling with excitement, she sought for a path that should lead her to
the seashore. With much difficulty, she succeeded in clambering down the
steep descent. Upon the strand she found a tiny boat, with quaint
paddles, in which she made for the shining coast. The skiff progressed
rapidly. As it neared the land, Beryl noticed a great change in the
atmosphere. The cold and mist of the country of Time were left behind
her. Resting upon her oars, she cooled her hands in the sea. To her
astonishment, she discovered that the water was not salt; it tasted as
fresh and as pure as the crystal stream that flowed through the Village
of Youth. Great as was her desire to enter the wonderful garden that lay
stretched before her, she almost regretted this last adventure. The heat
became intense. There was no longer a ripple on the sea. Everything lay
dead still. When close in shore, all suddenly she could make no further
progress; the more she plied her paddles, the further she drifted
backwards. At length exhausted, she lost consciousness.
On recovering Beryl was surprised to find herself in the misty garden
again, Time bending over her with a pitying expression on his face.
"Thou shouldst not have gone to seek the Garden of the Past; even I
cannot gain access to its groves," he said, when she had revived.
"I am grieved, and wish I had not ventured thither."
Touched by her sorrowful contrition, the youth held up a bunch of faded
red poppies and said soothingly,--
"I thought of thee as I passed by the Village of Youth."
"Tell me, my dear lord, why is it that the sea washing the shores of the
Garden of the Past is not salt, but fresh as a mountain spring?" said
Beryl, taking the dead flowers and holding them tenderly in her hand.
"All bitterness is purged from the Past, my child; therefore the waters
that wash its shores are sweet."