"The sea-people are heirs of the sea," replied the maiden; "to them come all the stores and riches that are lost in it. I know not the ways by which they come; but the lord of these halls keeps the keys of seven gates, where they go out and in. But one of the gates, which has not been open for thrice seven years, leads to a path under the sea, by which, I heard the merman say in his cups, one might reach the land.
"Good fisherman," she went on, "if by chance you gain his favour, and ever open that gate, let me bear you company; for I was born where the sun shines and the grass grows, though my country and my parents are unknown to me. All I remember is sailing in a great ship, when a storm arose, and it was wrecked, and not one soul escaped drowning but me. I was then a little child, and a brave sailor had bound me to a floating plank before he was washed away. Here the sea-people came round me like great fishes, and I went down with them to this rich and weary country. Sometimes, as a great favour, they take me up with them to see the sun; but that is seldom, for they never like to part with one who has seen their country; and, fisherman, if you ever leave them, remember to take nothing with you that belongs to them, for if it were but a shell or a pebble, that will give them power over you and yours."
"Thanks for your news, fair lady," said Civil. "A lord's daughter, doubtless, you must have been, while I am but a poor fisherman. Yet, as we have fallen into the same misfortune, let us be friends, and it may be we shall find means to get back to the sunshine together."
"You are a man of good manners," said the lady, "therefore I shall gladly be your friend; but my fear is that we shall never see the sunshine again."
"Fair speeches brought me here," said Civil, "and fair speeches may help me back, but be sure I will not go without you."
This promise cheered the lady's heart, and she and Civil spent that Christmas time seeing the wonders of the sea country. They wandered through caves like that of the great merman. The feast that had been left was spread in every hall; the tables were covered with the most costly vessels; and heaps of jewels lay on the floors of unlocked rooms. But for the lady's warning, Civil would have liked to put away some of them for his mother.
The poor woman was sad of heart by this time, believing her son to be drowned. On the first night when he did not come home, she had gone to the sea and watched till morning. Then the fishermen steered out again, and Sour having found the skiff floating about, brought it home, saying the foolish young man was no doubt lost; but what better could be expected when he had no discreet person to take care of him?
This vexed Dame Civil sore. She never expected to see her son again; but, feeling lonely in her cottage at the evening hour when he used to come home, the good woman got into the habit of going down at sunset and sitting beside the sea. That winter happened to be mild on the coast of the west country, and one evening when the Christmas time was near, and the rest of the village preparing to make merry, Dame Civil sat, as usual, on the sands.
The tide was ebbing and the sun going down, when from the eastward came a lady clad in black, mounted on a black horse, and followed by a squire in the same sad clothing.
As the lady came near, she said: "Woe is me for my daughter, and for all that I have lost by the sea!"