sune
be better,' she says. 'But if anything shude 'appen to me, Jim, I wants
to be burried under this 'ere apple tree.' I laughed. 'What's goin' to
'appen to yu?' I says; 'don't 'ee be fulish.' 'No,' she says, 'I won't be
fulish.' Well, I know what maids are, an' I never thought no more about
et, till two days arter that, 'bout six in the avenin' I was comin' up
wi' the calves, when I see somethin' dark lyin' in the strame, close to
that big apple tree. I says to meself: 'Is that a pig-funny place for a
pig to get to!' an' I goes up to et, an' I see what 'twas."

The old man stopped; his eyes, turned upward, had a bright, suffering
look.

"'Twas the maid, in a little narrer pool ther' that's made by the
stoppin' of a rock--where I see the young gentleman bathin' once or
twice. 'Er was lyin' on 'er face in the watter. There was a plant o'
goldie-cups growin' out o' the stone just above 'er'ead. An' when I come
to luke at 'er face, 'twas luvly, butiful, so calm's a baby's--wonderful
butiful et was. When the doctor saw 'er, 'e said: 'Er culdn' never
a-done it in that little bit o' watter ef' er 'adn't a-been in an
extarsy.' Ah! an' judgin' from 'er face, that was just 'ow she was. Et
made me cry praaper-butiful et was! 'Twas June then, but she'd afound a
little bit of apple-blossom left over somewheres, and stuck et in 'er
'air. That's why I thinks 'er must abeen in an extarsy, to go to et gay,
like that. Why! there wasn't more than a fute and 'arf o' watter. But I
tell 'ee one thing--that meadder's 'arnted; I knu et, an' she knu et; an'
no one'll persuade me as 'tesn't. I told 'em what she said to me 'bout
bein' burried under th' apple tree. But I think that turned 'em--made et
luke to much 's ef she'd 'ad it in 'er mind deliberate; an' so they
burried 'er up 'ere. Parson we 'ad then was very particular, 'e was."

Again the old man drew his hand over the turf.

"'Tes wonderful, et seems," he added slowly, "what maids 'll du for love.
She 'ad a lovin-'eart; I guess 'twas broken. But us never knu nothin'!"

He looked up as if for approval of his story, but Ashurst had walked past
him as if he were not there.

Up on the top of the hill, beyond where he had spread the lunch, over,
out of sight, he lay down on his face. So had his virtue been rewarded,
and "the Cyprian," goddess of love, taken her revenge! And before his
eyes, dim with tears, came Megan's face with the sprig of apple blossom
in her dar