rather above the human size, and largely proportioned. I turned
my head, but without moving otherwise, for I feared lest the arms
should untwine themselves; and clear, somewhat mournful eyes met
mine. At least that is how they impressed me; but I could see
very little of colour or outline as we sat in the dark and rainy
shadow of the tree. The face seemed very lovely, and solemn from
its stillness; with the aspect of one who is quite content, but
waiting for something. I saw my conjecture from her arms was
correct: she was above the human scale throughout, but not
greatly.

"Why do you call yourself a beech-tree?" I said.

"Because I am one," she replied, in the same low, musical,
murmuring voice.

"You are a woman," I returned.

"Do you think so? Am I very like a woman then?"

"You are a very beautiful woman. Is it possible you should not
know it?"

"I am very glad you think so. I fancy I feel like a woman
sometimes. I do so to-night--and always when the rain drips from
my hair. For there is an old prophecy in our woods that one day
we shall all be men and women like you. Do you know anything
about it in your region? Shall I be very happy when I am a
woman? I fear not, for it is always in nights like these that I
feel like one. But I long to be a woman for all that."