sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his armor in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her; the horse quietly moving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feet; and the black shadows of the forest behind—all this she took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she leaned against a tree, watching the strange pair, and listening, in a half-dream, to the melancholy music of the song.
"But the tune isn't his own invention," she said to herself; "it's 'I give thee all, I can no more.'" She stood and listened very attentively, but no tears came into her eyes.
"I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head,
Like water through a sieve.
