“But you will not see the great High Priest.” “I shall see his Chaplain anyway. I liked his Chaplain. Coming down the steps he said to me: ‘Go away, little girl, go away’--just as in the comic opera. But afterwards, when we stood by the carriage, he couldn’t make out for the life of him what I was--girl or woman--neither could the bigger man.” “I also often wonder which you are.” “You must go on wondering, Alice, dear, and then some day you’ll find out--and so will I. Perhaps the big man will tell us.” CHAPTER IV When Marigold awoke, it was not to the beauties of a palace grounds--nor yet to silence and privacy. She had slept long and peacefully in a bed as hard as it was clean, and the carpetless boards showed evidence of recent scrubbing. Neither cockroach nor mouse had disturbed her slumbers, and from below came the appetising smell of approaching breakfast. It was not the sunshine which awoke her--it was the matins bell of the Temple, and, unlike the clanking single bell of most churches, it was wondrously sweet--so sweet and pure that she stood by the tiny opened window a long time listening to it, and her light eyes were dark with untold thoughts. The ragged costume arranged with a gleam of white arm here--and bosom there--she went downstairs, still laughing at the novel situation. The smudges on her cheeks could not hide the soft flush of health, nor the fair brow, nor the delicate blue shadows round her eyes, not the outcome of sickness, but of that thoughtfulness which in the midst of merriment had often made her sad--the tiny shadows that enhanced her beauty, the nearest approach to womanhood she yet possessed. After breakfast both she and Alice put on plain jackets and hats and went into the shady, silent grounds of the Temple. The roar of the city round about was not heard here. The birds twittered and quarrelled about the grand grey walls and lofty trees as importantly as if man were out of the consideration altogether. The grass was green, and smoothly kept; and over all there hung the spirit of a great refinement--the brooding master-spirit of the ages. The leafy courts were quite deserted--men were at work, women at home, children at school. From an open distant window came the clear voices of choir boys practising scales--just now higher and higher, then gradually down. A wondrous red creeper covered this southern wall like a heavy curtain, vying in colouring with that richer one that hung before the glittering God within. “I think when you are poor you see things differently. This great building seems alive with majesty to-day. At other times I have felt its beauty and a certain grandeur, but never as now after our simple cottage.”