'It was a free gift, madam,' replied my cousin; 'I wish you a good afternoon.' 'Say, will yer be coming again to-morrow?' asked the woman as I took my departure. 'Very likely; good by.' The door closed, and then, but not till then, the melancholy dog joined us and stalked behind until we had crossed the meadow and reached the gate. We passed out and turned up the hill; but looking back we saw the outline of the woman's head at the upper window, and the dog's head at the bars, both watching us out of sight. In the evening there came a cold wind down from the north, and the parlor, with its primitive ventilators, square openings in the side of the house, grew chilly. So a great fire of soft coal was built in the broad Franklin stove, and before its blaze we made good cheer, nor needed the one candle which flickered on the table behind us. Cider fresh from the mill, carded ginger-bread, and new cheese crowned the scene, and during the evening came a band of singers, the young people of the Community, and sang for us the song of the Lorelei, accompanied by home-made violins and flageolets. At length we were left alone, the candle had burned out, the house door was barred, and the peaceful Community was asleep; still we two sat together with our feet upon the hearth, looking down into the glowing coals. 'Ich weisz nicht was soll es bedeuten Dasz ich so traurig bin,' I said, repeating the opening lines of the Lorelei; 'I feel absolutely blue to-night.' 'The memory of the sulphur-woman,' suggested Ermine. 'Sulphur-woman! What a name!' 'Entirely appropriate, in my opinion.' 'Poor thing! How she longed with a great longing for the finery of her youth in Sandy.' 'I suppose from those barbarous pictures that she was originally in the flesh,' mused Ermine; 'at present she is but a bony outline.' 'Such as she is, however, she has had her romance,' I answered. 'She is quite sure that there was one to love her; then let come what may, she has had her day.' 'Misquoting Tennyson on such a subject!' said Ermine, with disdain. 'A man's a man for all that and a woman's a woman too,' I retorted. 'You are blind, cousin, blinded with pride. That woman has had her tragedy, as real and bitter as any that can come to us.' 'What have you to say for the poor man, then!' exclaimed Ermine, rousing to the contest. 'If there is a tragedy at the sulphur-house, it belongs to the sulphur-man, not to the sulphur-woman.' 'He is not a sulphur-man, he is a coal-man; keep to your bearings, Ermine.' 'I tell you,' pursued my cousin, earnestly, 'that I pitied that unknown man with inward tears all the while I sat by that trap door. Depend upon it, he had his dream, his ideal; and this country girl with her great eyes and wealth of hair represented the beautiful to his hungry soul. He gave his whole life and hope into her hands, and woke to find his goddess a common wooden image.' 'Waste sympathy upon a coal-miner!' I said, imitating my cousin's former tone.