“Yea, they slew me not, Jeremy,” I said. “I would that they had done so. And you are alone? I am glad that you died not, my friend; yes, faith, I am very glad that one escaped. Tell me about it, and I will sit here upon the bank and listen. Was it done in this wood? A gloomy deathbed, friend, for one so young and fair. She should have died to soft music, in the sunshine, with flowers about her.”

With an exclamation he put me from him, but kept his hand upon my arm and his steady eyes upon my face.

“She loved laughter and sunshine and sweet songs,” I continued. “She can never know them in this wood. They are outside; they are outside the world, I think. It is sad, is it not? Faith, I think it is the saddest thing I have ever known.”