n, their land will have
water again?"

"Not exactly so: when they are thirsty enough, they will have water,
and when they have water, they will grow. To grow, they must have water.
And, beneath, it is flowing still."

"I have heard that water twice," I said; "--once when I lay down to wait
for the moon--and when I woke the sun was shining! and once when I
fell, all but killed by the bad giant. Both times came the voices of the
water, and healed me."

The woman never turned her head, and kept always a little before me, but
I could hear every word that left her lips, and her voice much reminded
me of the woman's in the house of death. Much of what she said, I did
not understand, and therefore cannot remember. But I forgot that I had
ever been afraid of her.

We went on and on, and crossed yet a wide tract of sand before reaching
the cottage. Its foundation stood in deep sand, but I could see that
it was a rock. In character the cottage resembled the sexton's, but had
thicker walls. The door, which was heavy and strong, opened immediately
into a large bare room, which had two little windows opposite each
other, without glass. My hostess walked in at the open door out of which
the moon had looked, and going straight to the farthest corner, took a
long white cloth from the floor, and wound it about her head and face.
Then she closed the other door, in at which the moon had looked, trimmed
a small horn lantern that stood on the hearth, and turned to receive me.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Vane!" she said, calling me by the name I had
forgotten. "Your entertainment will be scanty, but, as the night is not
far spent, and the day not at hand, it is better you should be indoors.
Here you will be safe, and a little lack is not a great misery."

"I thank you heartily, madam," I replied. "But, seeing you know the name
I could not tell you, may I not now know yours?"

"My name is Mara," she answered.

Then I remembered the sexton and the little black cat.

"Some people," she went on, "take me for Lot's wife, lamenting over
Sodom; and some think I am Rachel, weeping for her children; but I am
neither of those."

"I thank you again, Mara," I said. "--May I lie here on your floor till
the morning?"

"At the top of that stair," she answered, "you will find a bed--on which
some have slept better than they expected, and some have waked all the
night and slept all the next day. It is not a very soft one, but it is
better than