Sleep revived the brother and sister. And by the evening, Hope's ardent heart had found another point to rest on.
"Mother," he said, "if we could only find out whence the Black Ship comes, we might be comforted. Perhaps it comes from a happy place. Can no one even guess?"
"There are some who profess to know something of it," she replied; "but your father never believed them."
"Who are they?" asked Hope.
"The amulet-makers. There are a band of men in the White Town, and one of them in many of the villages, who profess to know something of the country from which the Black Ship comes, and who sends it. But they talk very mysteriously, in learned words; and I do not understand them. Your father said it was all a deception; because some of them profess to make amulets or charms which keep the Veiled Form away; and your little sister had one round her neck when she was taken from us. You have each one, but I cannot trust it; and I never could find out that the amulet-makers had anything but guesses as to where the ship came from; and your father said we could guess as well as they.
"There is one thing," she added, with a faint smile, "which gives me more comfort than anything they ever said. When our baby was taken from my arms—when she felt that terrible touch—she did not seem to be at all afraid. She looked up in my face, and then at the Veiled Form, and stretched out her baby arms from me to it, and smiled. At first, I hated to think of that. It seemed as if some cruel charm was on her to win even her heart from me; but often in the night, in my dreams, that smile has come back to me, like a promise; and I have awaked, comforted—I hardly know why."
"Perhaps they are in a happy place, mother," said little May.
And Hope said—"Mother, I am going to question the amulet-makers in the White Town."
And his mother suffered him to go.
In two days, Hope came back. But his step was spiritless and slow, and his face very sad.