snake from head to knee. Manella stepped back in amazement.

"Oh!" she cried--"How beautiful! I have quite as much in quantity,
but it is black and heavy--ugly!--no good. And he,--that man who
lives in the hut on the hill--says there is nothing he hates so much
as a woman with golden hair! How can he hate such a lovely thing!"

Morgana shrugged her shoulders.

"Each one to his taste!" she said, airily--"Some like black hair--
some red--some gold--some nut-brown. But does it matter at all what
men think or care for? To me it is perfectly indifferent! And you
are quite right to prefer hanging to marriage--I do, myself!"

Fascinated by her wonderful elfin look as she stood like a white
iris in its silken sheath, her small body's outline showing dimly
through the folds of her garment, Manella drew nearer, somewhat
timidly.

"Ah, but I do not mean that I prefer hanging to real, true
marriage!" she said--"When one loves, it is different! In love I
would rather hang than not give myself to the man I love--give
myself in all I am, and all I have! And YOU--you who look so pretty
and wonderful--almost like a fairy!--do YOU not feel like that too?"

Morgana laughed--a little laugh sweet and cold as rain tinkling on
glass.

"No, indeed!" she answered--"I have never felt like THAT! I hope I
shall never feel like THAT! To feel like THAT is to feel like the