There were so many trees upon the common that he could not tell which was the one on which his harp had hung, but, unable to go any farther, he staggered and sank down beneath a large oak-tree, in whose branches a blackbird was singing most sweetly. The sun was setting just as of yore when he had found his harp, and most of the birds' songs were over, but this one bird still sang sweet and clear, and Arasmon, tired and weak though he was, raised his head and listened. "I never heard bird sing like that," he said. "What is the tune it sings? I will play it on my harp before I die." And with what strength remained to him he reached forth his trembling hand, and grasping his harp struck upon it the notes of the bird's song, then he fell back exhausted, and his eyes closed. At once the harp slid from his hand, and Chrysea stood beside him--Chrysea dressed as of old, in shining white and gold, with bright hair and eyes. "Arasmon!" she cried, "see, it is I, Chrysea!" but Arasmon did not move. Then she raised her voice and sang more sweetly than the bird overhead, and Arasmon opened his eyes and looked at her. "Chrysea!" cried he; "I have found my wife Chrysea!" and he laid his head on her bosom and died. And when Chrysea saw it her heart broke, and she lay beside him and died without a word. In the morning when some of the villagers crossed the common they saw Arasmon and Chrysea lying beneath the oak-tree in each other's arms, and drew near them, thinking they were asleep, but when they saw their faces they knew they were dead. Then an old man stooped and looked at Chrysea, and said, "Surely it is the woman who came to us and sang long ago, when we were in our troubles; and, though he is sadly changed and worn, it is like her husband who played for her singing." Then came the girl who had driven the cows and told them how she had met Arasmon, and all he had said to her. "He searched everywhere for his wife, he said," said she. "I am glad he has found her. Where could she be?" "Would that we had known it was he," said they all, "how we would have greeted him! but see, he looks quite content and as if he wished nothing more, since he has found his wife Chrysea." [Illustration] THE HEART OF PRINCESS JOAN [Illustration] Long ago, in the days of fairies, there lived a King and Queen, who were rich and happy. But the Queen was a proud, haughty woman, and disliked every one more powerful than herself. And most of all, she hated the fairy folk, and could not bear them to come to the castle where she and the King dwelt. Time passed, and the Queen had a little baby,--a daughter whom they called Joan--and the bells were rung, and there were great rejoicings all over the country, and the King and Queen were happy as the day is long.