"One night she lay down in the moonshine, and fell asleep, and her mother looked upon her for a long time, thinking how beautiful she was, and what a pity the young men could not take her to be a wife, she had such a loving heart, and seemed made so much for love. At last she fell asleep herself, dreaming of Lily, and did not wake till past midnight. Her first thought was of Lily, and she leaned on her elbow, and looked at the little bed, with its white counterpane, that glittered like snow in the moonshine. But Lily was not there, and the window was wide open. The woman jumped up in fright, and ran to the window and looked out, but she could see nothing but the trees and the woods. I wouldn't have been in her place for the gold of Solomon, for she was all alone, and there was no one living within a mile of her house. It was a wild, lonesome place, on a hill-side, and you could hear the roaring of water, all down at the bottom of the hill. Even in the day-time it was mighty dangerous walking among the torrents, let alone the night. "Well, the woman lifted up her voice, and wept for her blind child, but there was none but God to hear--and she went out into the night, calling after Lily every step she took, but her own voice came back to her, not Lily's. She went on and on, and when she got to a narrow path, leading along to a great waterfall, she stopped to lay her hand on her heart, to keep it from jumping out of her body. There was a tall, blasted pine, that had fallen over that waterfall, making a sort of slippery bridge to pass over. What should she see, right in the middle of the blasted pine tree, as it lay over the roaring stream, but Lily, all in white, walking as if she had a thousand pair of eyes, instead of none, or at least none that did her any good. The mother dared not say a word, any more than if she were dumb, so she stood like a dead woman, that is, as still, looking at her blind daughter, fluttering like a bird with white wings over the black abyss. "But what was her astonishment to behold a figure approaching Lily, from the opposite side of the stream, all clothed in white, too, with long, fair hair, parted from its brow, and large shining wings on its shoulders. The face was that of a beautiful youth, and he had eyes as soft and glorious as the moon itself, though they looked dark for all that. "'I come, my beloved,' cried Lily, stretching out her arms over the water. 'I see thee--I know thee. There is no darkness now. Oh, how beautiful thou art! The beams of thy shining wings touch my eyelids, and little silver arrows come darting in, on every side. Take me over this narrow bridge, lest my feet slide, and I fall into the roaring water.'