could have avenged him with her own life she would have given it.
She cursed her foolish hour of sleep.
She sat there beside him till the day waned and the deep blue shadows of evening began to lengthen over the wold.
Then she raised his body in her arms and put him over her shoulders as she would have carried a child, and began slowly, and with effort, thus burdened, to make her sad way homeward.
The weight was great; the mile of moorland seemed like ten. She went with bent back and limbs that trembled as if all in a moment she had grown very old; but she did not relinquish her task. He had done more for her. She would not leave him in the woods for the fox and the polecat and the carrion birds to find.
It was long past nightfall when she reached her refuge; her clothes were soaked through with blood, his Weight had chilled, stiffened, numbed her; but she had brought him home.
The next day she made his grave under the alaternus and the myrtle; and now on earth was utterly alone.
