And the sea, a thousand miles or more away, still thought forever of the
mountain. Vainly she peered over the western horizon for a glimpse of his
proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far
beyond, forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, and other mountains
intervened. Her watching was as hopeless as her love.

"She is false!" whispered the air to the mountain. "She is false, and she
has gone to another lover. I alone am true!"

But the mountain believed her not. And one day clouds came floating
through the sky and hovered around the mountain's crest.

"Who art thou," cried the mountain,--"who art thou that thou fill'st me
with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my beloved's, and thy
kisses are like her kisses."

"We come from the sea," answered the clouds. "She loves thee, and she has
sent us to bid thee be courageous, for she will come back to thee."

Then the clouds covered the mountain and bathed him with the glory of the
sea's true love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever after that
the clouds came each day with love-messages from the sea, and oftentimes
the clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender words the mountain
spoke.

And so the ages come and go, the mountain rearing his giant head aloft,
and his brown, honest face turned whither the sea departed; the sea
stretching forth her arms to the distant mountain and repeating his dear
name with her thousand voices.