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A String of Pearls. III
and seemed to reflect the dark and lifeless gloom
of his inner self.
Deep sighs forced their way from the very
depth of his poor heart, and when at last his
head sank upon his hands, bitter tears trickled
down on to a sheet of paper on which were scrib-
bled some lines, written in his happy youth, that
he had been reading again that evening:
‘For me life’s path is never dark or dreary,
No doubts, no cares assail me on my way;
Forward I press with feet that never weary,
And hope for ever sings her glad sweet lay.
Serenest peace within my heart is dwelling,
Born of the faith I learnt in childhood’s hour,
And as I roam my song is ever telling
Of faith and hope and love’s divinest power.”
But now the faith of his childhood was wrecked,
and gloomy doubts had taken its place. The gift
of song James had retained, but now his hope was
ever mingled with depressing lament, and weary sad
complainings. Many a night James had sat like
this, but he had never felt so utterly depressed, so
lonely and lost before. When after a while he
looked up, and again gazed listlessly before him,
his eyes were arrested by something he had not
observed before. It was a pansy that peeped
out from one of the cornices of the nearest build-
ing. Some mould had gathered in a crevice, and
chance had carried thither on the wind a seed—
that was all. But that flower meant something. It
spoke of spring-time having arrived, and James
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