Its door hung wide open,
and in the middle of it, on a low stool, there sat an old woman, wrapped
in a long cloak, looking kindly at her.

She threw herself across the threshold and fell upon the earthen floor.

"Oh, will _you_ speak to me? Will _you_ see me? Pray, pray answer me!"
she cried.

"And why should I not see you, my child?" said the old woman.

She gasped with joy.

"I don't know--I thought--the coachman slammed the door--I don't know
what I thought! It was terrible!" she panted.

"I know, I know," said the old woman; "but you are here now. You can
rest now. It took you a long time, you are so strong. Look, I have a bed
for you!"

She looked, and in the corner of the hut was a couch of pine boughs,
odorous and soft.

"You may lie on my cloak," said the old woman, and spread it on the
springy couch. She dropped on it.

"Oh, I ache!--every bone in me aches!" she sobbed, and for the first
time she wept.

"That is right," said the old woman, and soothed her with her hand, "now
sleep, and I will have something for you when you wake."

Her body sank, relaxed, upon the soft boughs, and it was as if a sponge
were wiped across her mind, and she slept.

Time passed over her; she had no way of knowing if they were minutes or
hours that ran by.

When she awoke, a gentle, steady humming filled the air; a murmurous,
musical sound that calmed every sense. It was like the turning of a
great wheel or the rocking of an old cradle.

"What is that?" she asked faintly.

"They are my bees, child," said the old woman. "They have come home."

She was slender, with brown eyes like brook water, and though she was
wrinkled finely, she was straight and strong, for she lifted up her
guest and half carried her to the opposite corner of the hut.

"Now wash," she said, "and then you must eat."

A cold, deep spring welled up in that corner, and as she plunged her
face into it she opened her hot eyes to let the icy water cool them--and
gazed at the white moon far below her and the small stars.

All space seemed spread before her and she drew out, frightened, but
when she glanced quickly at the spring from above, she thought she must
have dreamed, for it was like any other spring, only a little deeper.
Then she washed her hands till they tingled and warmed. When she had
braided her hair afresh she turned and saw that the old woman had set
out a meal for her on the low stool; a brown loaf, a comb of golden
honey and an