within streamed forth a blue light that gleamed far out over the smooth snow. "Come," said the snow-maiden, and she put her finger to her lips.

Still holding Eric by the hand, she led him through the wide-open doors into a vast hall, made of ice and snow. Great columns supported the domed roof, and the windows that were of transparent ice gave a strange blue light that filled the whole place.

The hall was quite empty; the floor was put together out of small pieces of ice forming wonderful patterns that shimmered in different shades of white. In the middle a small descending staircase interrupted the smooth surface—a sort of dark well, the first steps of which shone bluish and ghost-like. A great light came up from somewhere far down in the heart of the earth.

The snow-maiden, still tightly clasping Eric's hand, now began to descend the narrow stairs, and the deeper they went the stronger became the light, till they reached a low vaulted chamber of great size and quite round, in the middle of which burnt a blinding circle of light. At first Eric was too bewildered to grasp the meaning of that ring of flame; then he recognized the little tongues of fire that had mocked him out yonder in the wilderness. The snow-maiden had sunk on her knees, and beckoning Eric to come nearer, she raised one of the little fluttering blazes that remained balanced on her hand like a luminous butterfly.

Eric stared, his head close to his beautiful companion's, and saw a small hole made in the snow, where lay a tiny red heart which was split right across.

"This," whispered the snow-maiden, "is the heart of a poor little child, whose mother abandoned it, and who died of grief. I found it several years ago.

"Every day I come here to all my hearts, so that they shall not feel lonely; and these little flames are their guardians. Each little will-o'-the-wisp protects one of the hearts and keeps it warm, so that it shall not perish.

"And see! This one is my favourite, but it is very difficult to keep alive because it spent its life too rapidly, too passionately. It is the heart of a poet and a lover; a lover whose passion was so violent that he died quite suddenly, one flower-scented night, when his hope had been torn from him, and his heart broke right in two. Behold I had to bind it together with the silver threads of my hair—and often, very often, must I lay my warm lips against it because it cannot bear its longing."

The white woman held the bound pieces in both hands, and gazed upon them with yearning tenderness, whilst two of the little blue lights hovered near, throwing a beautiful radiance over her face.

"Beside this one I always keep two little flames, because it needs more care than all the others; a poet's heart is so frail a thing; and how much more so a poet that was a lover!"

With the utmost gentleness she laid the heart down and bent towards another.

"This is the heart of a mother who lost all her blessed treasures; see how cruelly wounded it is; but it is the strongest of all, because the strength of a mother's heart is unequalled by any other—and God has a special place awaiting it when the great Day comes."

From heart to heart the snow-maiden moved, with bent head and gentle hands.

The circle of glow-worms round her brow flickered and sparkled like a magic flower.

"This heart," said the snow-maiden, raising a very dark object in her hand, "is black, because it is that of a great sinner; and sometimes the glow that guards it becomes quite small and dim, almost goes out; because the heart suffers greatly of its own wickedness; it was saved because it broke.

"I found it very far off, in a place amongst rocks; and when I tried to raise it, it began to roll away from me, always farther, so that I had to run, to run after it with an anxious feeling that I would not be able to save it. It left traces of blood wherever it passed, so at last I discovered it in a dark hole beside a skull that grimaced at me with a hollow grin: when finally I held it in my warm hand I knew that it was at rest, and I carried it home very slowly.

"Whilst I retraced my steps along the weary way I had come, I sang to it, soft simple songs that children love. As I sang I felt the warm blood trickle through my fingers, and upon the snow I saw that all the drops of blood had run together into the form of a small red cross, which marked upon the whiteness a sign of forgiveness.

"I looked at my hand and noticed that the drops of blood had turned into tears which left no more stain where they fell, but had washed from my fingers all traces of soil. This heart also needs me, but in another way; I always sing to it those simple songs, for it must forget all else except the days when it was at its mother's knee." Stretching her hands across the circle of light the tall vision in the dazzling robe seemed to bless the many waiting throbbing hearts.

"I call this place my garden of expectation! And one day a great joy will arise from it; ... songs of praise sung by myriads of heavenly voices; ... and this light is but feeble compared to the light which will shine that day."

Eric was still on his knees; he looked up at that glorious form beside him, and as entranced he watched, her long white hair turned into a soft misty veil that flowed down upon the ice like the mantle of a saint, and the circle of glow-worms had become a halo round the face, that was the face of one of God's own angels.

V

And though blind and deaf for a hundred years I would see her more fair than any poet has sung.

Fiona Macleod.

Eric had now left the snow-maiden far behind, had left her there amongst the broken hearts she tended with such gentle hand and deep understanding.

He had gazed his last upon her as she stood in the circle of light all shining and bright; and then, knowing that he must go, he had torn himself away, feeling that otherwise he would not have the strength to continue his road, and part from a being so full of radiance and wonderful beauty.

And now he was wandering in a great forest of fir-trees, his feet skimming quickly over the crackling snow. It was still night around him, but all the trees were lit with millions of candles. Each tree was an enormous Christmas tree. The whole wood was one blaze of light ... this he knew was the snow-maiden's garden!

It was an astonishing sight; but he fled along; he dared not stay.

As he ran he heard the sound of many wings following him. He lifted his head; in and out through the great branches of the candle-lit pines he saw huge white birds appear and disappear, but so rapidly that he could never distinguish what kind they were.

Now he came out of the forest, and saw a vast frozen sea before him. As he stepped from the shelter of the trees the whole air was filled with white wings. He looked up and saw endless flocks of wild swans; and circling far above them were eagles as white as they, which flew always higher, higher, farther, farther, settling at last upon the blocks of ice that formed forbidding barriers between sea and land.

All these feathered creatures were the companions of the beautiful woman he had left.

He turned, and there, rising above the illuminated forest, far above the clouds, seemingly suspended in the air, was the castle of ice, revealed a last time to his enraptured sight.

He threw out his arms full of longing, as if he too had left his heart within those translucent walls ... then the heavy snow-laden clouds descended and wiped out the dream like a vision of the night.

VI

Joy rises in me like a summer's morn.

Coleridge.

It was evening; the sea was calm—so calm that it looked like an enormous mirror into which the sky was reflecting its manifold hues, resembling a crowned woman