In the picture, a man in white vestments stood at an altar with his hands outstretched in blessing.  Before him knelt a girl and a man.  The girl was in white and the taper-lights at the altar shone on her two long yellow braids that hung down over her white gown, so that they looked like burnished gold.  The face was turned away so that she could not see who it was, but the man who knelt beside her was looking straight at her, or would have been, if the tapestry-maker had not put down her needle at a critical point.  The man’s face had not been touched, though everything else was done.  Barbara sighed.  She hoped that the next time she came to the Tower the tapestry would be finished.

[Sidenote:  In the Violet Room]

She went into the violet room, for a little while, and sat down on a green chair with a purple cushion in it.  She took a great bunch of violets out of a bowl and buried her face in the sweetness.  Then she went to the mantel, where the bottles were, and drenched her handkerchief with violet water.  She had tried all the different kinds of cologne that were in the Tower, but she liked the violet water best, and nearly always went into the violet room for a little while on her way upstairs.

As she turned to go out, the Boy joined her.  He was a young man now, taller than Barbara, but his face, as always, was hidden from her as by a mist.  His voice was very kind and tender as he took both her hands in his.

“How do you do, Barbara, dear?” he asked.

“You have not been in the Tower for a long time.”

“I have been ill,” she answered.  “See?” She tried to show him her crutches, but they were not there.  “I used to have crutches,” she explained.

“Did you?” he asked, in surprise.  “You never had them in the Tower.”

“That’s so,” she answered.  “I had forgotten.”  She remembered now that when she went into the Tower she had always left her crutches leaning up against the glass steps.

“Let’s go upstairs,” suggested the Boy, “and ring the golden bells in the cupola.”

Barbara wanted to go very much, but was afraid to try it, because she had never been able to reach the cupola.

“If you get tired,” the Boy went on, as though he had read her thought, “I’ll put my arm around you and help you walk.  Come, let’s go.”

[Sidenote:  Up the Winding Stairs]

They went out of the violet room and up the winding stairway.  Barbara was not tired at all, but she let him put his arm around her, and leaned her cheek against his shoulder as they climbed.  Some way, she felt that this time they were really going to reach the cupola.

It was very sweet to be taken care of in this way and to hear the Boy’s deep, tender voice telling her about the Lady of Shalott and all the other dear people who lived in the Tower.  Sometimes he would make her sit down on the stairs to rest.  He sat beside her so that he might keep his arm around her, and Barbara wished, as never before, that she might see his face.