live hour after hour with the pale-hearted disgrace you call your daughter. What she is, the worm at her heart has begun to teach her. When life is no longer endurable, come to me.
“Madam,” said the shepherd, “may I not go with you now?”
“You shall,” said the wise woman.
“Husband! husband!” cried the shepherdess, “how are we two to get home without you?”
“I will see to that,” said the wise woman. “But little of home you will find it until you have come to me. The king carried you hither, and he shall carry you back. But your husband shall not go with you. He cannot now if he would.”
The shepherdess looked and saw that the shepherd stood in a deep sleep. She went to him and sought to rouse him, but neither tongue nor hands were of the slightest avail.
The wise woman turned to Rosamond.
“My child,” she said, “I shall never be far from you. Come to me when you will. Bring them to me.”
Rosamond smiled and kissed her hand, but kept her place by her parents. They also were now in a deep sleep like the shepherd.
The wise woman took the shepherd by the hand, and led him away.
And that is all my double story. How double it is, if you care to know, you must find out. If you think it is not finished—I never knew a story that was. I could tell you a great deal more concerning them all, but I have already told more than is good for those who read but with their foreheads, and enough for those whom it has made look a little solemn, and sigh as they close the book.