rew very near, and with each day the girl's
step grew lighter and more buoyant, her eyes glistened and her lips curved
in a smile that was new to them. Now and then even a snatch of song burst
from them. Her parents had no doubt now that she had quite forgotten the
lover whose name had not been mentioned in her presence since the day he
sailed.

Then, at last, the three years were really past and gone, the last day
dawned and wore away to evening, and then night fell, moonlit, still,
beautiful, a fitting night for lovers who were to meet once more, whether
living or dead. In the Cove it was as light as day, one could count each
wave as it rose and fell, and see distinctly the white foam at its edge as
it broke on the beach. The sands gleamed like silver in the sad white
light save where the rocks threw dark shadows.

All round the coast the witches and wizards were busy manufacturing their
spells. High up on a cliff overlooking the Lovers' Cove an old woman,--
not a witch,--was sitting preparing her herbs and simples,--which must
always be done by moonlight,--when suddenly she was startled to see down
in the Cove below her the figure of the maiden swiftly crossing the sands.
The old dame, who recognized the girl, was startled for it was nearly
twelve o'clock, and in that part most people are in bed by nine.

Swiftly and unhesitatingly the girl made her way to a rock far out on the
sands, and close to the water. Up the rock she climbed, and sat herself
down as though it had been noon on a fine summer's day. Did not she know,
wondered the old woman nervously, that the tide was rapidly rising, and
the rock being fast surrounded? Apparently, though, the maiden did not
know, or care, for there she sat immovable, her face turned towards the
sea, gazing at it with bright intent eyes, as though searching its face
for something.

At last the old woman grew so alarmed she could endure the suspense no
longer. The girl's danger increased every moment, and she felt it her
duty to go and warn her, and give her what help she could. So with
trembling limbs and fast-beating heart she hurried as fast as she was able
down the side of the cliff. The path, though, was rough and winding, and
she was old. At one point the end of the beach where the girl sat was cut
off from her view. It was only for a moment, certainly, yet when the old
dame caught sight of her again, she saw, to her amazement, that a fine
young sailor had als