A red rose for Rome." And, as he reached the wall again, the bright eyes of a little maiden peeped at him through the archway.
He stood quite still and looked at her.
Never had he seen so lovely an elf.

A sunbeam had made its home in each lock of her tumbled hair.

Her little brown face had the soft bloom of a ripe nectarine; her eyes, the timid glance of a startled fawn.
The Bishop smiled.
The bright eyes lost their look of fear, and sparkled responsive.
The Bishop beckoned.
The little maid stole through the archway; then, gaining courage flew over the turf, and stood between the Bishop and the roses.
"How camest thou here, my little one ?" questioned Symon of Worcester, in his softest tones.
"The big gate stood open, sir, and I ran in." "And what is thy name, my little maid ?" "Verity," whispered the child, shyly, blushing to speak her own name.
"Ah," murmured the Bishop.

"Hath Truth indeed come in at my open gate ?" Then, smiling into the little face lifted so confidingly to his: "Dost thou want something, Angel-child, that I can give thee ?" One little bare, brown foot rubbed itself nervously over the other.
Five little brown, bare toes wriggled themselves into the grass.
"Be not afraid," said the Bishop.

"Ask what thou wilt and I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom.