Thus the morning stars sang together, he thought.
And when the prayers laid lovely hands across the eyes of the
worshippers, still he sought not Alice, but prayed for her as perhaps
only a boy can: O Lord God, be good to Alice--already she is one of thy
angels. May her life be filled with light and joy! And if in the time to
come I am worthy of being ever by her side, may we live our lives
together, high and pure and holy as always in thy sight! Lord, thou
knowest how pure is my love; how I worship her as I worship the holy
angels themselves. But whatsoever is imperfect perfect by the
inspiration of thy Holy Spirit....
So prayed the soul of the boy for the soul of the girl, and his eyes
filled with tears as he prayed; the cup of the wonder and holiness of
the world ran over.
Already, it seemed, that Alice and he lay clasped together in the arms
of God.
So Narcissus prayed and sang his love in terms of an alien creed. He
sang of the love of Christ, he thought but of the love of Alice; and
still he refrained from plucking that wonderful passion-flower of her
glance.
At length he had waited the whole service through; and, with the last
hallowed vibrations of the benediction, he turned his eyes, brimful of
love-light, greedily, eagerly, fearful lest one single ray should be
wasted on intermediate and irrelevant worshippers.
Wonderful eyes of love!--but alas! where is their Alice? Wildly they
glance along the rosy ranks of chubby girlhood, but where is their
Alice?
And then the ranks form in line, and once more the sound, the ecstatic
sound it had seemed but a short time before, of girls marching--but
no!--no!--there is no Alice.
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