Far up the mountain sounded the faint tinkling of goat-bells, and the clear, sweet yodelling of a peasant, on his homeward way.

At intervals, the deep tolling of the bell of St.Oswald floated out across the water.
"When the snow falls," he said, after a long pause, "I shall be far away from here.

They tell me that at the hospital where I am going, I shall find a cure.

But I know." He pointed to an hour-glass on the table beside him.

"See! the sand has nearly run its course.