'That is it exactly. How can anything we do be common when we remember our inheritance? You call me Princess, out of love, little one, but I am a princess in reality, for my Father is a King. Let me give you a good word which your father gave me long ago. "If you cannot realize your Ideal, you can at least idealize your Real." I have been trying to do it ever since.'
'That is just like papa,' said Muriel, with a proud smile. 'He says you are "pure gold," princess.'
'Did Rich--did your father say that?' cried Pauline, and Muriel looked up to see a soft flush in her face, while her eyes shone. 'The King's daughter is all glorious within,' she repeated slowly, 'her clothing is of wrought gold.' Then she chanted in her clear, triumphant voice:--
'"They have clean robes, White robes; White robes are waiting for me!"
'Ah! little one, "the court dress of heaven differs somewhat from that of earth."'
'But, princess,' said Muriel wistfully, 'farm work and cooking and washing dishes over and over--it seems such drudgery.'
A great light broke over her face, and she cried in a low, exultant tone:--
'"Blessed be Drudgery!" Christ bore it for thirty years, why should I mind for forty-nine? I have only to wait a little now for the "fulness of joy" and "pleasures for evermore."'
Muriel threw her arms about her and kissed her softly.
'Then our princess will be at home,' she whispered, 'in the Palace of the King.'
TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.