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THE STORY WITHOUT AN END
But the lark wheeled in higher and higher circles, and her song sounded softer and sweeter.
And now she sang of the first delights of early love; of wanderings together on the sunny fresh hilltops, and of the sweet pictures and visions that arise out of the blue and misty distance. The Child understood not rightly what he heard, and fain would he have understood, for he thought that even in such visions must be wondrous delight. He gazed aloft after the unwearied bird, but she had disappeared in the morning mist.
Then the Child leaned his head on one shoulder to listen if he could no
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