dew of rich life on her lip and
forehead, her grey eyes swimming with a soft light; and looking at her
he had loved her at once, as he had loved, on the instant, the little
child that came to him later; as he had loved the girl into which the
child grew, till she left him and came back no more. Why had he never
gone in search of her?

He got to his feet involuntarily and stepped towards the door, looking
down into the valley. As his eyes rested on the little city his face
grew dark, but his eyes were troubled and presently grew bewildered, for
out of a green covert near there stepped a pretty boy, who came to him
with frank, unabashed face and a half-shy smile.

Felion did not speak at first, but stood looking, and presently the
child said: "I have come to fetch you."

"To fetch me where, little man?" asked Felion, a light coming into his
face, his heart beating faster.

"To my mother. She is sick."

"Where is your mother?"

"She's in the village down there," answered the boy, pointing.

In spite of himself, Felion smiled in a sour sort of way, for the boy
had called the place a village, and he relished the unconscious irony.

"What is the matter with her?" asked Felion, beckoning the lad inside.

The lad came and stood in the doorway, gazing round curiously, while the
old man sat down and looked at him, moved, he knew not why.

The bright steel of Felion's axe, standing in the corner, caught the
lad's eye and held it. Felion saw, and said: "What are you thinking of?"

The lad answered: "Of the axe. When I'm bigger I will cut down trees and
build a house, a bridge, and a city. Aren't you coming quick to help my
mother? She will die if you don't come."

Felion did not answer, and from the trees without two women watched him
anxiously.

"Why should I come?" asked Felion curiously. "Because she's sick, and
she's my mother."

"Why should I do it because she's your mother?"

"I don't know," the lad answered, and his brow knitted in the attempt to
think it out, "but I like you." He came and stood beside the old man
and looked into his face with a pleasant confidence. "If your mother
was sick, and I could heal her, I would--I know I would--I wouldn't be
afraid to go down into the village."

Here were rebuke, love, and impeachment, all in one, and the old man
half started from his seat.

"Did you think I was afraid?" he asked of the boy, as simply as might a
child of a child, so near are children and wise m