Roseheart and WurDDAYLONG and nightlong the maid clung to Wur and to none other, and the Old Gray Woman of Shadows, whose voice was like unto the winds of Autumn, made sad music of the days and ways of men. Ever she spake, telling tales of sorrow, whereunto Roseheart listened, saying in her heart, "There is no sorrow like to mine, who am a widow before I am wed."

Yet there was, withal, in the Roseheart Wakes Weepingtales of Wur, a gray beauty that melted the heart of the maid, even in despite of her own grief, to a vague and terrible longing to learn what lay at the heart of life. Nightlong did Wur watch over her, and the maid dreamed in sorrow, to wake weeping.

So for a space was grief bitter in the maid, and grievous was the hurt of all things, for that Flame whom she loved had gone his ways from her. Then on a day, for pity of the grief wherewith she suffered, a longing grew in her to look upon the face of her sadness in the Pool in the forest. Thither she went, therefore, with Wur, The Face of Grief the Old Gray Woman of Shadows, and leaned over the Pool in the wont of her old fashion. And as with sore pity of herself she looked into the Pool, upon the face of grief that was hers, she saw that in her eyes, which aforetime had held nought save the face of Flame, was an image that blotted out all else. Semblance it had of an image of Wur, the Old Gray Woman of Shadows, whose hair was as cobwebs matted, whose eyes were as misty pools at twilight, and whose garments were as the wings of the dusk. Yet as the maid looked more nearly, she saw that the form had only the seeming of Wur, and was in good sooth that of Roseheart herself, stricken in grief to the likeness of Wur.

Arising in wonder she turned her to look upon Wur, and in the face of the Old Gray Woman of Shadows she saw strangely the semblance of herself, Roseheart. And at the horror and mystery of this thing which she might not understand, the maid shrieked with terror. And when the Old Gray Woman would have folded her in her arms to quiet her, the maid would not, and shrank away, and prayed for help to the Lord God that she might have comfort.

There Came a Radiance And there came a radiance, growing ever brighter, until Wur, the Old Gray Woman of Shadows, might not stay, but fled away before that which was more shining than the noonday sun. And Roseheart was ware of a presence she might not see for the brightness.

Then spake Senta, the Radiant One, the Voice of Vision, unto the maid Roseheart, full gently, yet in the manner of one who may not be gainsaid: "Roseheart, beloved of Flame, who shall be called Giver of Dreams, lift up thy heart. Well hast thou learned the lore of sorrow that Wur hath taught thee, and these things it is needful that The Coming of Sentathou shouldst know. But too much hast thou made thyself one with sorrow, to the end that it hath grown dear to thee. This thing may not be. Pity that seeketh not itself makes pure the heart of man, but pity of thyself for thine own woe is another matter, whereto thou must look else will thy sorrow destroy thee. Thou shalt arise, therefore, and go unto thy father Telwyn the King, and thy mother, the Queen Ellaline. Sore have been their hearts that thou wert in grief. It should be thy task rather, to bring them joy who are stricken in years.

"But since joy is not made of Vision and Dreamsnought, and since there is now in thee sorrow alone, I say unto thee, go thy ways among the people of thy father the King, and of thy grief make garments of joy to cover the nakedness of the poor withal. Take to them that are sick the flowers of thy kindness, that shall be as the snowdrops blossoming under the mantle of the winter of thy grief. Look into the eyes of the old and find patience, and into the hearts of the children and find hope. Tend thou the bed of pain, and ease the woe of the sons of men in such measure as thou mayest. Therewith shall all things befall thee as the Lord God desireth. Unto me, Senta, it is vouchsafed to give thee vision, and a dream, even as I gave these things unto Flame, thy beloved. Sleep."

And Roseheart laid her down in the deep sleep as of a rosebud in the sun at mid-day, when life in a great tide flows and greatens, to the end that the rose may be full-blown. And the dream of Roseheart was on this wise: There was a woman in shining garments, fashioned full seemly of white silk that flowed and clung, revealing gracious lines of her form who walked stately-wise, with little children about her knees. Her form was radiance, and her eyes were stars. And The Starry-eyedin the fashion of her seeming, and in the faces of the children, was somewhat as it were a thing known and not known. Then beheld Roseheart the seeming of Flame, her beloved, looking in joy and reverence upon this woman whose form was radiance, and whose eyes were stars.

And Senta the Radiant One said unto Roseheart: "Behold and see if this be not she whom thou didst look upon at the last in the eyes of Flame whom thou lovest." And it was so, and Roseheart marveled.

Whereafter Senta bade her awake, and she awoke and pondered The Heart of the Maidthese things what they might mean. And in the heart of the maid there grew and strengthened the desire and the will to be as that woman of her dream, whose beauty was as music under the moon, and in all reverence beloved of her troth-plight, Flame. Thus are women ever, in their deep need to be in all ways that they may, the desired of their lord.