"This is my kingdom," she said, "and if you obey me, I will show you
things of which you have never dreamed--" and then she came towards the
tree and sat upon the high forked branch of the broken bough while she
pointed with shadowy finger to the part which was a bench. "Sit there,
Man of Day," she ordered, "for you cannot see beyond your hand. You
cannot know how the living things are creeping about, unafraid now of
your cruel power. You cannot discern the difference in the colors of the
fresh young bracken and the undergrowth; you cannot perceive the birds
asleep in the tree."

"No, indeed, Lady of Night," he said, "I admit I am but a mole, but you
will let me perceive them with your eyes, will you not?"

She slipped from her perch suddenly, before he could put out a
protesting hand to stop her, and glided out of his view into the dark of
the copse, and from there he heard the intoxicating silver laughter
which maddened his every sense.

"Halcyone! Witch!" he called. "Come back to me--I am afraid, all alone!"

So she came, appearing like a materializing wraith from the shadow, and
with an undulating movement of incredible grace she was again seated
upon her perch, the fallen forked branch of the tree.

John Derringham was experiencing the strongest emotion he had ever felt
in his life.

A maddening desire to seize the elusive joy--to come nearer--to assure
himself that she was real and not a spirit of night sent to torture and
elude him--overcame all other thought. The startling change from her