dream, which yet had some heart-break in it, and at last he came to the
tree where he and Halcyone had sat those seven years ago, when she had
told him of what consisted the true point of honor in a man. He
remembered it all vividly, her very words and the cloud of her soft hair
which had blown a little over his face. He sat down upon the fallen log
that had been made into a rude bench; and there he gazed in front of
him, unconscious now of any coherent thought.

Suddenly he was startled by a laugh so near him and so soft that he
believed himself to be dreaming, but he looked round and quickly rose to
his feet, and there at the other side of the tree he saw standing the
ethereal figure of a girl, while her filmy gray garments seemed to melt
into the night.

"Halcyone!" he gasped. "And from where?"

"Ah!" she said as she came towards him. "You have invaded my kingdom.
Mortal, what right have you to the things of the night? They belong to
me--who know them and love them."

"Then have compassion upon me, sweet dryad!" he pleaded, "who am but a
pilgrim who cannot see his way. Let me shelter under your protection and
be guided aright."

She laughed again--a ripple of silver that he had not guessed her voice
possessed. Her whole bearing was changed from the reserved, demure and
rather timid creature whom he knew. She was a sprite now, or a nymph, or
even a goddess, for her brow was imperious and her mien one of assured
command.