She lifted her hand with a commanding gesture as though
unconsciously,--then let it drop at her side. Lydia Herbert looked
at her perplexedly.

"You talk so very strangely!" she said.

Morgana smiled.

"Yes, I know I do!" she admitted--"I am what old Scotswomen call
'fey'! You know I was born away in the Hebrides,--my father was a
poor herder of sheep at one time before he came over to the States.
I was only a baby when I was carried away from the islands of mist
and rain--but I was 'fey' from my birth--"

"What is fey?" interrupted Miss Herbert.

"It's just everything that everybody else is NOT"--Morgana replied--
"'Fey' people are magic people; they see what no one else sees,--
they hear voices that no one else hears--voices that whisper secrets
and tell of wonders as yet undiscovered--" She broke off suddenly.
"We must not stay talking here"--she resumed-"All the folks will say
we are planning the bridesmaids' dresses and that the very day of
the ceremony is fixed! But you can be sure that I am not going to
marry anybody--least of all Roger Seaton!"

"You like him though! I can see you like him!"

"Of course I like him! He's a human magnet,--he 'draws'! You fly
towards him as if he were a bit of rubbed sealing-wax and you a