on, and the seven water nymphs
leaping about him in a silver dance.

After that the shepherd boy drew up on the hills with the damsel. He was
quite exhausted, and he noticed that the activity of the waters
gradually calmed down as daybreak approached, like things spent after a
night of wild passion. When at last the day quivered into life on the
eastern sky he called the damsel to his side, and standing there
together they looked out over the spread of water. The town of the
Seven Sisters was no more.

"Look," cried the shepherd boy, "at Loch Riabhach!" And drawing back he
cast out into the far water the secret key. There it still lies under a
rock, somewhere in the lake over which our boat is now drifting. And the
shepherd boy and the damsel there and then founded a new town beside the
lake, and all who are of the old families of Baile Loch Riabhach, like
myself, are their descendants. That, concluded Eamonn, is the story of
the Gray Lake.

THE BUILDING

I

Martin Cosgrave walked up steadily to his holding after Ellen Miscal had
read to him the American letter. He had spoken no word to the woman. It
was not every day that he had to battle with a whirl of thoughts. A
quiet man of the fields, he only felt conscious of a strong impulse to
get back to his holding up on the hill. He had no clear idea of what he
would do or what he would think when he got back to his holding. But the
fields seemed to cry out to him, to call him back to their
companionship, while all the wonders of the resurrection were breaking
in fresh upon his life.

Martin Cosgrave walked his fields and put his flock of sheep scurrying
out of a gap with a whistle. His holding and the things of his holding
were never so precious to his sight. He walked his fields with his hands
in his pockets and an easy, solid step upon the sod. He felt a bracing
sense of security.

Then he sat up on the mearing.

The day was waning. It seemed to close in about his holding with a new
protection. The mood grew upon him as the shadows deepened. A great
peace came over him. The breeze stirring the grass spread out at his
feet seemed to whisper of the strange unexpected thing that had broken
in upon his life. He felt the splendid companionship of the fields for
the master.

Suddenly Martin Cosgrave looked down at his cabin. Something snapped as
his eyes remained riveted upon it. He leapt from the mearing and walked
out into the field, his hands this time