ng ago:

Where the reeds dance by the river, Where the willow's song is said, On
the face of the morning water, Is reflected a white flower's head.

She folded her hands and sang the next verse dreamily:

Where the reeds shake by the river,
Where the moonlight's sheen is shed,
On the face of the sleeping water,
Two leaves of a white flower float dead.
Dead, Dead, Dead!

She echoed the refrain softly till it died away, and then repeated it.
It was as if, unknown to herself, it harmonized with the pictures and
thoughts that sat with her there alone in the firelight. She turned the
cakes over, while the wind hurled down a row of bricks from the gable,
and made the walls tremble.

Presently she paused and listened; there was a sound as of something
knocking at the back-doorway. But the wind had raised its level higher,
and she went on with her work. At last the sound was repeated. Then
she rose, lit the candle and the fire, and went to see. Only to satisfy
herself, she said, that nothing could be out on such a night.

She opened the door a little way, and held the light behind her to
defend it from the wind. The figure of a tall man stood there, and
before she could speak he had pushed his way in, and was forcing the
door to close behind him.

"Waldo!" she cried in astonishment.

He had been gone more than a year and a half.

"You did not expect to see me," he answered, as he turned toward her;
"I should have slept in the outhouse, and not troubled you tonight; but
through the shutter I saw glimmerings of a light."

"Come in to the fire," she said; "it is a terrific night for any
creature to be out. Shall we not go and fetch your things in first?" she
added.

"I have nothing but this," he said, motioning to the little bundle in
his hand.

"Your horse?"

"Is dead."

He sat down on the bench before the fire.

"The cakes are almost ready," she said; "I will get you something to
eat. Where have you been wandering all this while?"

"Up and down, up and down," he answered wearily; "and now the whim has
seized me to come back here. Em," he said, putting his hand on her arm
as she passed him, "have you heard from Lyndall lately?"

"Yes," said Em, turning quickly from him.

"Where is she? I had one letter from her, but that is almost a year ago
now--just when she left. Where is she?"

"In the Transvaal. I will go and get you some supper; we can talk
afterward."

"Can you giv