itchen, and
brewed his medicines. And the child entered the room where his mother
lay, and presently he came to the kitchen and said: "She is asleep--my
mother."

The old man looked down on him a moment steadily, and a look of
bewilderment came into his face. But he turned away again to the
simmering pots. The boy went to the window and, leaning upon the sill,
began to hum softly a sort of chant, while he watched a lizard running
hither and thither in the sun. As he hummed, the old man listened, and
presently, with his medicines in his hands and a half-startled look, he
came over to the lad.

"What are you humming?" he asked.

The lad answered: "A song of the wood-cutters."

"Sing it again," said Felion.

The lad began to sing:

"Here shall I build me my cedar house,
A city with gates, a road to the sea--
For I am the lord of the Earth! Hew! Hew!"

The old man stopped him. "What is your name?"

"My name is Felion," answered the lad; and he put his face close to the
jug that held the steaming tinctures: but the old man caught the little
chin in his huge hand and bent back the head, looking long into the
lad's eyes. At last he caught little Felion's hand and hurried into the
other room, where the woman lay in a stupor. The old man came quickly to
her and looked into her face. Seeing, he gave a broken cry and said:

"Carille, my daughter! Carille!"

He drew her to his breast, and as he did so he groaned aloud, for
he knew that inevitable Death was waiting for her at the door. He
straightened himself up, clasped the child to his breast, and said: "I,
too, am Felion, my little son."

And then he set about to defeat that dark, hovering Figure at the door.

For three long hours he sat beside her, giving her little by little his
potent medicines; and now and again he stopped his mouth with his hand,
lest he should cry out; and his eyes never wavered from her face, not
even to the boy, who lay asleep in the corner.

At last his look relaxed its vigilance, for a dewy look passed over the
woman's face, and she opened her eyes and saw him, and gave a little cry
of "Father!" and was straightway lost in his arms.

"I have come home to die," she said.

"No, no, to live!" he answered firmly. "Why did you not send me word all
these long years?"

"My husband was in shame, in prison, and I in sorrow," she answered
sadly. "I could not."

"He did evil? He is--" he paused.

"He is dead," she sa