So it came to pass that O-Toyo found herself one night in a lonely little temple at the verge of the city—kneeling before the ihai of her boy, and hearing the rite of incantation. And presently, out of the lips of the officiant there came a voice she thought she knew,—a voice loved above all others,—but faint and very thin, like a sobbing of wind.
And the thin voice cried to her:
"Ask quickly, quickly, mother! Dark is the way and long; and I may not linger."
Then tremblingly she questioned:
"Why must I sorrow for my child? What is the justice of the gods?"
And there was answer given:
"O mother, do not mourn me thus! That I died was only that you might not die. For the year was a year of sickness and of sorrow—and it was given me to know that you were to die; and I obtained by prayer that I should take your place.[ [7]
"O mother, never weep for me! It is not kindness to mourn for the dead. Over the River of Tears[ [8] their silent road is; and when mothers weep, the flood of that river rises, and the soul cannot pass, but must wander to and fro.
"Therefore, I pray you, do not grieve, O mother mine! Only give me a little water sometimes."
III