a big, gentle mother's eye, which regarded the dead girl lovingly;
and a transparent tear of resin trembled on the lid, and sparkled
in the setting sun like a green and red diamond.

"Is she asleep?" asked the child, looking into the face of the dead
girl.

"Yes, she is asleep."

"Is she a bride, mammy?"

"Yes, darling."

The mother had recognised her. It was the girl who was to be a
bride on Midsummer day, when her sailor lover would return home;
but the sailor had written to say that he would not be home until
the autumn, and his letter had broken her heart; for she could
not bear to wait until the autumn, when the leaves would drop dead
from the trees and the winter wind have a rough game with them in
the lanes and alleys.

She had heard the song of the dove and taken it to heart.

The young mother left the cottage; now she knew where she would go.
She put the heavy basket down outside the gate and took the child
into her arms; and so she walked across the meadow which separated
her from the shore.

The meadow was a perfect sea of flowers, waving and whispering round
her ankles, and the pollen water was calm and blue; and presently