ther called out if anybody
were in? As there was no reply they went into the parlour. On the floor,
surrounded by a whole forest of flowers, stood a black coffin with
silver feet and in the coffin lay a young girl with a bridal crown on
her head.

The walls of the room were made of new pinewood and only varnished with
oil, so that all the knots were visible. And the knots in the knot-holes
looked for all the world like so many eyes.

"Oh! Just look at all the eyes, mammy," exclaimed the little girl.

Yes, there were eyes of every description; big eyes, eloquent eyes,
grave eyes; little shining baby eyes, with a lurking smile in the
corner; wicked eyes, which showed too much white; frank and candid eyes,
which looked one straight into the heart; and, over there, 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 it was
not water through which they sailed, but the blue blossoms of the flax,
which she gathered in her outstretched hands.

And the flowers bent down and rose up again, whispering, lapping against
the sides of the boat like little waves. The flax-field before them
appeared to be infinite, but presently a white mist enveloped them, and
they heard the plashing of real waves, but above the mist they heard a
lark singing.

"How does the lark come to sing on the sea?" asked the child.

"The sea is so green that the l