So saying, she took from her girdle some turquoise ornaments, and placed them in Dorel’s hand with a kiss which had her whole heart in it.
“Now I love you,” said Dorel; “but more for the kiss than any thing else; and I am going before you to cut down the thorns that shoot out by the wayside. I am a little mountain-girl, and know how to use the pruning-knife.”
Little One danced for joy. She found she could now walk with wonderful ease; for not only were there no more sharp thorns to prick her, but her heart was also full of a new love, which made the whole world look beautiful.
“You see the way is growing easier,” said the Whisper.
“Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,
Wasting its waters forever and ever.”
“So I will,” said Little One. “Is there any one else to love?”
By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with trembling hands.
“Poor woman!” said Little One: “I am going to love you.”
“Dear me!” said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up with surprise in every wrinkle: “you don’t mean me? Why, my heart is all dried up.”
“Then you need to be loved all the more,” cried Little One heartily.