did their work in the dark, holding the cathedral roof aloft. And it
was stiller than the marshes are still when the ice has come and the
wind that brought it has fallen.

Suddenly into this stillness rushed the sound of the organ, roaring,
and presently the people prayed and sang.

No longer could Mary Jane
see their prayers ascending like thin gold chains, for that was but
an elfin fancy, but she imagined clear in her new soul the seraphs
passing in the ways of Paradise, and the angels changing guard to
watch the World by night.

When the Dean had finished service, a young curate, Mr. Millings,
went up into the pulpit.

He spoke of Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus: and Mary Jane was
glad that there were rivers having such names, and heard with wonder
of Nineveh, that great city, and many things strange and new.

And the light of the candles shone on the curate's fair hair, and
his voice went ringing down the aisle, and Mary Jane rejoiced that
he was there.

But when his voice stopped she felt a sudden
loneliness, such as she had not felt since the making of the
marshes; for the Wild Things never are lonely and never unhappy, but
dance all night on the reflection of the stars, and having no
souls, desire nothing more.