“We exchanged no words; we had but the one thought between us--to leave the dead, to get away.
“And directing our steps across the open desert, we walked silently, the sand muffling our footsteps as we went.”
_But I hae dreamed a weary dream Beyond the land of Skye; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I._
The days passed happily for the children in their almost daily companionship of the old woman. They liked to work for her. They would clean the cottage, or wash the china, hanging all the cups again by their handles on the hooks of the dresser. And you may roam through pleasures and palaces and never, to my mind, happen upon a prettier decoration to the wall of a room, than cups thus suspended in a row.
When Granny Gather-stick returned from her expedition to the neighbouring market-town, she would find all comfortably prepared. Her tea in making, the table spread, a fire of logs, with the cat purring before them, and two children glad of her return.
After she had refreshed herself and was rested, she told them more stories of her dreams. One was called “The Story of the Greatest Sufferer,” and in nearly all her dreams kings and queens figured--she could give no reason why.
“I thought I was reading once in a book the story of a king. The king worshipped many gods, but in his heart he longed to know who of all his gods was the greatest, and the worthiest of praise. Now it happened this king had a dream, and in his dream it was told him he should worship none but the highest, and that he who had suffered most was the highest, and the worthiest of praise. And it was further told him that on the morrow all those who had suffered would come before his throne, and when he who had suffered most should appear before the king, the stars would fall from heaven in a golden rain.
“Now, my dears, it seemed to me that I ceased reading and I lived in the story, and saw and felt the rest. I saw a crowd assembled around an empty space of great magnitude, and I saw the king and his courtiers round him, robed in purple with a golden crown. I knew we were all there to see the Sorrowful; and first I saw the figure of a man. Slowly he came, and he was clad in black velvet, wearing his hair long, with a pointed beard. And all the people watched his sorrowful countenance. ‘Deeply as you suffered,’ my heart said within me, ‘you cannot deem yourself to be the highest.’ But no word was said. And while we all watched him, he passed out of sight waveringly, as if he were no real person in the flesh.