"Since she was a child Brynhild has had that odd idea. That
flower is dead and withered. Throw it away, child. It looks
hideous."

Was it glamour? What was it? I saw the flower dewy fresh in her
bosom She smiled and turned away.

It was that very evening she left the veranda where we were
sitting in the subdued light of a little lamp and passed beyond
where the ray cut the darkness. She went down the perspective of
trees to the edge of he clearing and I rose to follow for it
seemed absolutely unsafe that she should be on the verge of the
panther-haunted woods alone. Mrs. Ingmar turned a page of her
book serenely;

"She will not like it if you go. I cannot imagine that she should
come to harm. She always goes her own way - light or dark."

I returned to my seat and watched steadfastly. At first I could
see nothing but as my sight adjusted itself I saw her a long way
down the clearing that opened the snows, and quite certainly also
I saw something like a huge dog detach itself from the woods and
bound to her feet. It mingled with her dark dress and I lost it.
Mrs. Ingmar said, seeing my anxiety but nothing else; "Her father
was just the same; - he had no fear of anything that lives. No
doubt some people have that power. I have never seen her attract
birds and beasts as he certainly did, but she is quite as fond of
them."