17 UNDER THE TREES. 



And more and more, as the days went by, Rosa 

 lind and I found the life of the Forest stealing into 

 our old home. The old monotony was gone ; the 

 old weariness and depression crossed our threshold 

 no more. If work was pressing, we were always 

 looking through and beyond it ; we saw the fine 

 results that were being accomplished in it ; we rec 

 ognized the high necessity which imposed it. If 

 perplexities and cares sat with us at the fireside, we 

 received them as friends ; for in the light of Arden 

 had we not seen their harsh masks removed, and 

 behind them the benignant faces of those who 

 patiently serve and minister, and receive no reward 

 save fear and avoidance and misconception ? In 

 fact, having lived in Arden, and with the conscious 

 ness that we might seek shelter there as in another 

 and securer home, the world barely touched us, save 

 to awaken our sympathies and to evoke our help. 

 It had little to give us ; we had much to give it. 

 There was within and about us a peace and joy 

 which were not for us alone. Our little home was 

 folded within impalpable walls, and beyond it lay a 

 vision of green foliage and golden masses of cloud 

 that never faded off the horizon. There were be 

 nignant presences in our rooms visible to no eyes 

 but ours ; for our Arden friends did not forsake 

 us. There were memories between us which made 

 all our days beautiful with the consciousness of 

 immortal faith and love ; there were hopes which, 

 like celestial beings, looked upon us with eyes deep 



