BRETON TROUT STREAMS 59 



every year am I robbed of its fruit while 1 

 am gone a-begging. Grant me, therefore, 

 that whosoever shall climb my apple-tree 

 shall have no power to descend from 

 its branches without my leave." With 

 bowed head he knelt upon the earthen 

 floor and waited till the answer came. 

 *' Thy wish is granted ;" but when he 

 looked up and gazed around him, behold, 

 he was alone, the place was empty. 



Only the storm stayed on with Misei'y, 

 who crouched by the cold hearth gazing 

 at its white ashes and listening to the 

 ceaseless drip, drip of the rain from the 

 cracked and broken roof Ever and again 

 did he totter painfully to the cupboard in 

 the wall, only to find it empty ; not a 

 crumb of his sour bread remained. Three 

 days and nights did the tempest rage, but 

 the fourth dawn broke with an aisle of 

 tender light across the landes. It glistened 

 on the wet leaves of the apple-tree, and 

 even faintly tinged an old lined face that 

 nodded above the gloomy hearthstone. 



Then was the light shadowed for a 

 moment. The old man slowly opened 

 his eyes, craning to recognise a dark, still 



