ung
and beautiful saint done to death in Caesarea, and of the fruit and
flowers of Paradise which she sent to Theophilus. "And I would," he
sighed under his breath, "that she would send such a gift to me."

"All this I know," said Dorothy, "for I have learnt thy song of Golden
Apples and Roses Red, and I love it most of all thy songs, though these
be many and sung all about the world, I think. And this I will tell
thee of thy songs, that I saw in a dream once how they were not mere
words and melody, but living things. Like the bright heads of baby
Angels were they, and they were carried on wings as it were of
rose-leaves, and they fluttered about the people who loved them and
sang them, leading them into blessed paths and whispering to them holy
and happy thoughts."

"God be blessed and praised for ever, if it be so," said Waldo; "but
this was no more than a maiden's dream."

For two winters Dorothy ministered to the poor leper, and during this
while no one save Waldo knew of her being in the woods, and no other
man set eyes on her. The fourth year of his exile was now drawing to a
close, and Waldo had fallen into extreme weakness by reason of his
malady, and over his face he wore a mask of grey cloth, with two holes
for his great piteous eyes. It was in the springtide, and one night as
he lay sleepless in the dark, listening to the long murmur of the wind
in the swaying pines, he heard overhead sharp cries and trumpetings,
and the creaking and winnowing of wings innumerable.

Rising from his bed, he went out of doors, and looked up into the dark
heavens; and high and spectral among the clouded stars he saw the
home-coming of the cranes. He sat on the bench beside his door, and
watched them sail past in thousands, filling the night with a fleeting
clamour and eerie sounds. As he sat he mused on the strange longing
which brought these birds over land and sea back home, year by year,
with the returning spring, and he marvelled that the souls of men,
which are but birds of passage in these earthly fields, should be so
slow to feel that longing for their true home-land.

That day when Dorothy came to the hut, he said to her: "It is well to
be glad, for, though the air is still keen, the spring is here. I
heard the cranes returning in the night."

"And I too heard them; and I heard thee rejoicing, playing on thy harp
and singing."

"That could not be, sister," said Waldo, "unless in a dream. No longer
can