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It was all terrible,—this young man coming and the thought that, no matter how they might try to disbelieve in his story, still it might be true. "Well," asked the old woman, "for whom are you mourning?" "Ah," replied the man, "I have come to you for help. Pity me. Because of what that girl said to me, I am looking for the Sun. I wish to ask him for her.".

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"Go back once more," said the young man, "and tell Three Bulls to send me that young woman." Nicholas, going into the outer hall, cross-examines the boy who has brought the melancholy tidings, and, having spoken to him for some time, goes back to the library with a face even graver than it was before. As he reaches the broad stream that divides him from the land he would reach, he pauses and tries to think of any decent excuse that may enable him to walk with a bold front up to the cottage door. But no such excuse presents itself. Memory proves false. It refuses to assist him. He is almost in despair. "I think I should like your mother," she says, naively and very sweetly, lifting her eyes steadily to his. "She is handsome, of course; and is she good as she is beautiful?".