God in the Trees.

Evening Post, Volume LXXVI, Issue 122, 21 November 1908, Page 10

God in the Trees.

"I shall be very late," deplored the Prince. His old servant spread out two protesting hands. "It is % pity, your Highess ; but the axle is broken. It will take at least two hours." "Two hours !" The Prince actually shuddered. Two hours alone with his own terrible thoughts, with the evergrowing horror that beset him from dawn till dark. His eyes sought wildly among the contents of the overturned carriage. No, there was no book — nothing, nothing absolutely to help him to oblivion. He must come face to face with the unveiled terror that haunted him. He glanced aside r.t the diminishing perspective "of massive treeboles, bluely outlined in the forest gloom. It was very ccol in there, and he knew every inch of it. It had been the favourite playground of his childhood, before the crown pressed so heavily on his brows. He and his mother and the little English girl. Ah, yes ! He would wander in there; perhaps in the green forest depths he would rid himself for a while of the black cloud that overshadowed his brain. He moved away slowly between the great trees, his feet making no sound on the velvety mosses, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his head down. Not a happy figure of a man, much Jess a happy Sovereign. "What ails the Prince?" asked one of the woodmen, looking after him curiously. "War,"' responded the old servant, sadly, "that's what it is. War, and the Gvil Geniua "War!" echoed the wooamen; "but there is no cause for war." "Oh, the cause will be easy enough," l'atighed the old servant grimly, "when the Evil Genius has to find it. She is waiting for him, you know. There is a council — she and the old Duke. It is all to be settled .to-day." "Everybody will know to-morrow," he resumed hastily, as if excusing his outburst. "What does it matter if I speak to-day? Hasten, do not delay the council." "Who will benefit by war?" asked an old woodman, in dazed tones. "A few rich men and a wicked woman," said the old servant; "and the Prince's heart will break." "An evil woman who hath beauty is a scourge in the Devil's hand," sighed the forester. "May God counsel him in the forest ." "There is but one counsel he ever harkeneth to," scoffed the old servant, "and that is the voice of his Evil Genius." Meanwhile the Prince wandered on, with the leaves clapping their little hands overhead, and the gay sunlight dancina intermittently before him across the velvet brownness and greenness of the thick moss below the trees. His feet, noiseless on that soft carpet, made no sound to warn the iorest-folk of his approach, and they made no effort to leave his path. The wild rabbits gambolled around him ; the squirrels ran fearlessly up and down, dropping nuts on his head and arms; the wandering deer looked at him, like graceful phantoms across the blue shadows, summing him up with lovely fearless eyes, then flying silently, as if divining what tumult of black thoughts surged to and fro within him. No; he could not escape. War, horrid war ! shrieked up and down these green aisles, affrighting the little sweet and pleasant lives of their inhabitants. War would devastate the mossy solitudes, and squander abroad the winter store they shared with humanity. A sudden pang of awful terror paralysed him; for an instant what his imagination had conjured up seemed absolutely real; the t'oi-est echoed with chaos — the sound of trampling feet, the shouts of armed men, the cries of victor and vanquished, the wails and groans of wounded men and flying women, the weeping of little children. His people ! War among his people slaying her thousands, bringing red ruin, fire, and sword into that peaceful sleepy land, and for what cause ? He writhed in futile agony. For a woman's evil passion — her greed of wealth and power. He leaned against a tree and wiped the dampness off a pallid face. "Could 1 but free myself ! "Phew I" he mused, "if it is like this beforehand, what will it he after ?" And groaning, he asked again, ".What, indeed V And she would laugh at him, and think his agonies a merry jest ! He sl-uddered m disgust. "My mother," he remembered, "would not understand a woman like that; I wonder if 1 do !" and hoped vaguely he did not; then smiled as he recalled that his people named that woman everywhere "the Evil Genius." "And that is true," he decided, "quite true." She had shuthim off from all he had been taught by that dead mother he still mourned, and the wise father he had loved. Cut him off frorn^ his people, and his friends, and imprisoned him within an impenetrable fortress of suspicion and doubt, where none could reach him. Here in the greenwood he seemed somehow suddenly nearer to the past than he had ever been before. He could almost think his mother was within call, and that little English girl ! He thrust ni<? head forward suddenly after a disappearing sunbeam. How like that was to the gleaming nimbus of pale yellow hair that had floated after her. But fhe was dead, that littlo English girl, dead these seventeen years. How beautiful she would have Deen ! Perhaps — but what use now to think like that ? He had loved her as a child ; with a child's love he loved her htill. He looked aiound, and heard a. sound of low singtng. 'Ah, yes, it was a dream ! There j>mong the grass, as of old, sat the little English gin, her fine hair gleami 3 like golden fire around her; her finf-iS plaiting a garland of sorrel and daisies and eyebright, just as she used to do. "I will pretend it is true," said the Prince sadly, "and forget everything for a little while." He went gently down on his knees, and looked into the child's face. The tall grass swayed to and fro, whispering softly, and she looked up into his troubled' eyes with eyes that 1 effected all the calm joy of heaven,"

the unutterable sweetness of Christ's love. "Little playmate," sighed the Prince, "welcome !" Then, forgetting all but his own dire need, and grasping wildly at hope, "Oh, little one, from the land where all is known, out of your love, help me." "Hush !" said the child, bending towards him with smiling lips. "Listen to God in the trees !" The Prince sank down on his side, and, looking upwards, saw the «ree-tops dark against the blueness of the sky, and the great white clouds. Saw them swaying this way and that, lifting up and down, and whispering. The wind came off the distant sea across the slumberous land, stirring the heavy harvest, dame through the gay aftermath, threaded golden, and blue, and scarlet with flowers, and sweet with fragrance. A sudden, fierce, terrible craving sprang up within the Prince and, scorched his soul with desire to understand, to know what it was they said in the pleasant sunshine. He felt if he could but understand he could save his people from fire and sword. It was then the little girl laid her hand on his, and all his past went away from him, as if it had been blotted out, leaving him with the mind of a child, and a child's faith. And at once he understood that wordless wisdom, and knew what it was he had to do. The bees came round him as he knelt, the wild birds sang beside him, all the little forest creatures came went, and the child, weaving her garland of flowers, sang softly, while the trees swayed and murmured under the great white clouds in the immensity of blue sky. And the Prince of Peace gave counsel. In the road through the forest the Prince's servants waited anxiously, peering through the blue gloom among the tree-boles. Suddenly he came out from among them, with the footstep of a boy, his faceashine with high determination. "Turn, turn the horses," he commanded; "I am not going to the castle." The servants looked at each other incredulously as the Prince got in. "Hasten home," he ordered, and the old servant, climbing -beside the coachman, whispered, "Thank God ! Thank God ! No war !" "Ah, I know," said the old woodman wisely, "he has been taking counsel of God among the trees." — Frances Campbell, in the Westminster Gazette.