who could cross me if you would, will not believe. Oh, will you not
make the trial?"

"Alas! Peregrine, supposing I could do it in good faith, would you
become a mere tricksy sprite, a thing of the elements, and yield up
your hopes as a Christian soul, a child of God and heir of Heaven?"

"My father says I am an heir of hell."

"No, no, never," she cried, shuddering at his quiet way of saying
it. "You are flesh and blood, christened, and with the hope set
before you."

"The christening came too late," he said. "O lady, you who are so
good and pitiful, let my mother get back her true Peregrine--a
straight-limbed, comely dullard, such as would be welcome to her.
She would bless and thank you, and for me, to be a Will-of-the-wisp,
or what not, would be far better than the life I lead. Never did I
know what my mother calls peace till I lay here."

"Ah, Peregrine, poor lad, your value for peace and for my poor
kindness proves that you have a human heart and are no elf."

"Indeed, I meant to flit about and give you good dreams, and keep
off all that could hurt or frighten you," he said earnestly.

"Only the human soul could feel so, dear boy," she answered
tenderly.

"And you _really_ disbelieve--the other," he said wistfully.