"Wake me up when it's full," said Bolster.
He slept and slept, dreaming of Agnes, and the vital stream flowed and ran down the crevice into the sea. And Agnes looked over the cliff and saw the sea blush, and blush deeper still.
"Is it nearly full?" asked Bolster, in a tone of lazy happiness.
"Not yet—not yet, my love," said Agnes, stroking his bald head where the curls were to grow.
So he slept and woke again, and asked, "Is it nearly full?"
"Yet a little more; it runs so slowly now," said Agnes.
And Bolster slept again.
Agnes looked over the cliff and the sea was deeply dyed, so great a stream had flowed from the mighty form, smiling in sleep, but pale in death.
He woke and tried to rise, but Agnes soothed him, saying—