r before the body of the dead
Dakoon should go to the Tomb with the Blue Dome, the daughter of Cushnan
Di lay watching for her door to open; for she knew what had happened in
the city, and there was one whom her spirit longed for. An old woman sat
beside her with hands clasped about her knees.

"Dost thou hear nothing?" said a voice from the bed. "Nothing but the
stir of the mandrake trees, beloved."

"Nay, but dost thou not hear a step?"

"Naught, child of the heaven-flowers, but a dog's foot in the moss."

"Thou art sure that my father is safe?"

"The Prince is safe, angel of the high clouds. He led the hillsmen by
the secret way into the Palace yard." There was silence for a moment,
and then the girl's voice said again: "Hush! but there was a footstep--I
heard a breaking twig."

Her face lighted, and the head slightly turned towards the door. But the
body did not stir. It lay moveless, save where the bosom rose and fell
softly, quivering under the white robe. A great wolf-dog raised its head
at the foot of the bed and pointed its ears, looking towards the door.

The face of the girl was beautiful. A noble peace was upon it, and the
eyes were like lamps of dusky fire, as though they held all the strength
of the nerveless body. The love burning in them was not the love of a
maid for a man, but that which comes after, through pain and trouble and
wisdom. It was the look that lasts after death, the look shot forward
from the Hereafter upon a living face which has looked into the great
mystery, but has not passed behind the curtains.

There was a knock upon the door, and, in response to a summons,
Tang-a-Dahit stepped inside. A beautiful smile settled upon the girl's
face, and her eyes brooded tenderly upon the young hillsman.

"I am here, Mami," said he.

"Friend of my heart," she answered. "It is so long!"

Then he told her how, through Cumner's Son, he had been turned from his
visit two days before, and of the journey down, and of the fighting, and
of all that had chanced.

She smiled, and assented with her eyes--her father had told her. "My
father knows that thou dost come to me, and he is not angry," she said.

Then she asked him what was to be the end of all, and he shook his head.
"The young are not taken into counsel," he answered, "neither I nor
Cumner's Son."

All at once her eyes brightened as though a current of light had been
suddenly sent through them. "Cumner's Son," said she--"Cumner's Son,