When she went to the door she saw a weary gray-haired man, dusty and tired. By his side was an ass with drooping head, and on the ass was a woman, young, and of a beauty that was as the cool shadow of green leaves and the cold ripple of running waters. But beautiful as she was, it was not this that made Bride start: no, nor the heavy womb that showed the woman was with child. For she remembered her of a dream--it was a dream, sure--when she had looked into a pool on a mountain-side, and seen, beyond her own image, just this fair and beautiful face, the most beautiful that ever man saw since Nais, of the Sons of Usna, beheld Deirdrê in the forest,--ay, and lovelier far even than she, the peerless among women. "Gu'm beannaicheadh Dia an tigh," said the gray-haired man in a weary voice, "the blessing of God on this house." "Soraidh leat," replied Bride gently, "and upon you likewise." "Can you give us food and drink, and, after that, good rest at this inn? Sure it is grateful we will be. This is my wife Mary, upon whom is a mystery: and I am Joseph, a carpenter in Arimathea." "Welcome, and to you, too, Mary: and peace. But there is neither food nor drink here, and my father has bidden me give shelter to none who comes here against his return." The carpenter sighed, but the fair woman on the ass turned her shadowy eyes upon Bride, so that the maiden trembled with joy and fear. "And is it forgetting me you will be, Brighid-Alona," she murmured, in the good sweet Gaelic of the Isles, and the voice of her was like the rustle of leaves when a soft rain is falling in a wood. "Sure, I remember," Bride whispered, filled with deep awe. Then without a word she turned, and beckoned them to follow: which, having left the ass by the doorway, they did. "Here is all the ale that I have," she said, as she gave the flagon to Joseph: "and here, Mary, is all the water that there is. Little there is, but it is you that are welcome to it." Then, when they had quenched their thirst she brought out oatcakes and scones and brown bread, and would fain have added milk, but there was none. "Go to the byre, Brighid," said Mary, "and the first of the kye shall give milk." So Bride went, but returned saying that the creature would not give milk without a sian or song, and that her throat was too dry to sing. "Say this _sian_," said Mary:-- Give up thy milk to her who calls Across the low green hills of Heaven And stream-cool meads of Paradise! And sure enough, when Bride did this, the milk came: and she soothed her thirst, and went back to her guests rejoicing. It was sorrow to her not to let them stay where they were, but she could not, because of her oath.