Every fibre of his being yearned for her. But Annadoah's hands were
cold, her eyes were sullenly turned away. In her heart a vague fear of
him, a resentment of his very love, stirred.

"My shadow yearns to the south," she repeated pathetically. "I shall
wait. Perhaps he will come as he said when the spring hunting sings."
In her heart she feared that he would not.

Ootah in utter anguish dropped her hands. Annadoah sadly turned away.
Falling to his knees on the ice, he covered his face with his arms.
The sound of his heartbroken sobbing was drowned in the funereal chant
of the women as, in a long procession, they passed near him on their
way to the shore.

When he raised his head, the rim of the moon, a great quarter-disc of
silver, peeped above the horizon. A mystical melancholy light flooded
the gloriously gleaming desolate white world. The ice floes glistened
as with the dust of diamonds. The ice covered faces of the
promontories glowed with the sheen of burnished metal. The clouds
became tremulous masses of argent phosphorescence. Far away the
women's chants subsided. One by one they joined the men in their
grotesque dances in the distant igloos. Ootah was left alone.

He gazed long upon the pearly lamp of heaven. The subtle sorrow of
this world of magical moonlight filled his soul. Then the hopelessness
and tragedy of all it symbolized were unfolded to him, and, extending
his arms in a vague wild sympathy, in a vague wild despair, he moaned:

"Desolate and lonely moon! Oh, desolate and unhappy moon! . . .
Desolate and unhappy is the heart of Ootah!"