Upon the church tower rising out of its birches and its firs her eyes were resting, but her heart was with the little mound at the tower's foot, and as she gazed, the tears gathered and fell.
"Oh, Mother!" she whispered.

"Mother, Mother! You know Allan would not lie!" A sudden storm was gathering.

In a brief moment the world and the Glen had changed.

But half an hour ago and the Cuagh Oir was lying glorious with its flowing gold.

Now, from the Cuagh as from her world, the flowing gold was gone..