looked out across the water. She was waiting--she was waiting; but she
could not tell for what.

All day the waves ran up and up on the sand, and ran back again, and the
pink shells rolled. Life sat waiting; all day, with the sunlight in her
eyes, she sat there, till, grown weary, she laid her head upon her knee and
fell asleep, waiting still.

Then a keel grated on the sand, and then a step was on the shore--Life
awoke and heard it. A hand was laid upon her, and a great shudder passed
through her. She looked up, and saw over her the strange, wide eyes of
Love--and Life now knew for whom she had sat there waiting.

And Love drew Life up to him.

And of that meeting was born a thing rare and beautiful--Joy, First-Joy was
it called. The sunlight when it shines upon the merry water is not so
glad; the rosebuds, when they turn back their lips for the sun's first
kiss, are not so ruddy. Its tiny pulses beat quick. It was so warm, so
soft! It never spoke, but it laughed and played in the sunshine: and Love
and Life rejoiced exceedingly. Neither whispered it to the other, but deep
in its own heart each said, "It shall be ours for ever."

Then there came a time--was it after weeks? was it after months? (Love and
Life do not measure time)--when the thing was not as it had been.

Still it played; still it laughed; still it stained its mouth with purple
berries; but sometimes the little hands hung weary, and the little eyes
looked out heavily across the water.