than she dared to tell her son. Antar, whom she had loved with all her being from the day, eighteen years before, when as an innocent maiden she had given herself to him, loved her no more; and instead he loved Damma. And now, was she who had robbed spouse to rob mother as well? Was Arvah also to be taken from that warm heart which had no other treasure save its memory of dead days of joy?
Rheda sat, still weeping, until the sunset; and then through her tears watched the glorious colour of the western sky as the day sank to its rest, and the chill breath of night came bending the musical tops of the pines. The world was then not so desert as her heart, whence the light of the one man's love had departed to shine elsewhere.
And Antar, whom even to look upon would have been bliss to her, came not. Where was he, and with whom? She dared not trust herself to guess the truth. He was hunting, or he was on his way back from fishing in some distant stream;
