A girl was crying softly.  The rest stood silent.

  “O blood-red flower, O flame-red flower,
      That ever you grew so red! 
  Ask of my love if she knows you now,
      When all her tears are shed!”

With a wave of his hand the singer turned, and made his way swiftly across the river.

Those on the shore waved in return, and stood watching and waving long, but he did not look back.

WATER-SPRITE AND WATER-WITCH

Slowly the river flowed; the waves plashed, and the reeds swayed lightly.

Green pine woods on one shore:  the other was field and meadow, with a road running through a little distance from the bank.

A girl came walking down the road, casting an anxious glance now and again towards the river.

She stopped.  A boom lay out in the river, lumbermen’s poles were strewn about on the farther bank.  And something more—­a man lay under the trees at the edge of the wood, resting his head on one hand.

The girl looked at him thoughtfully.  The man did not move.  Still in doubt, she took a step forward, and then drew back again.  At last, she turned off from the road, and walked resolutely down along a watercourse straight towards the river.

Mingled emotion stirred in the young man’s breast—­joy at the meeting, and wounded pride and bitterness.  He felt an impulse to hurry across, run to the girl and take her in his arms, forgetting all else.  But there was that between them cold and clear as the dividing water.

The girl reached the bank, and stood looking out over the water in silence.

The young man could contain himself no longer.  “You have come!” he cried.

“How could I help it?” she said in a low voice—­the words hardly carried to the opposite bank.

“And I could not help thinking of you.”

The river looked at the pair.  “If only I were frozen over!”

* * * * *

“Couldn’t you—­couldn’t you come across—­just for a moment?” asked the girl timidly.

“Just what I was going to do.  But we can’t stay there on the bank—­the men will be coming down directly.”

He thought for a moment.

“Will you come over here if I come to fetch you?  Then we can go up in the woods where no one can see.  Come over on the raft.”

“Yes, I could do that!”

He took up his pole and set the raft loose—­a couple of tree trunks, no more, fastened together with withies—­and rowed hurriedly across to the opposite bank.

“Like a dear sister she comes,” he thought to himself, as he helped her on to the raft.  The girl held his hands and looked deep into his eyes, but without speaking.

“Sit there on the crosspiece—­you can’t stand up when it begins to move.”

She sat down obediently, and he rowed across.

“I never thought you could be such a friend,” he said, as they stepped ashore.