the high-pitched cries of the watch. And this also was a part of the
sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled and was happy and
loved the days that were coming, and longed for them, as the young man
longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.

So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts,
at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings sat
nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep, his
dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.

He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind had
fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the brook,
and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. The moon was
high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered with it in all
its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the lip of his dam.
So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear, casting
Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been minded to
bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood musing while
the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his turfs and then
another, and rolled two or three of the stones over, and then softly
thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling all the little
bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly thereat, and
stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down on the grass
beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once into a dreamless
sleep.

When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower and
the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge; he
lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember where
he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he leapt to
his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she who but the
Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand to touch her,
though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of slumber or
remembered the tidings of yesterday.

She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber,
and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot,
with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about her
head. But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of the night-
tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the sunshine, and
he