Dear Children: I have something new to tell you. One morning, when the
lady arose from the breakfast table, she went down the broad
staircase, and I joyfully followed her. She spoke the magic word at
the door. It opened! We passed down the steps, between the two winged
lions, and stepped into the glittering carriage. Away it sped. I
could not see the driver, but only that there were four white horses.
On we flew, faster and faster. I gazed out of the window at the green
meadows, the woods, the streams; but we passed them so rapidly that
they were all mingled. I could just see that there was something
moving about near the houses, and at work in the fields--men and
women, I suppose; but they were as transparent as air, and I could see
every thing through them. Mere ghosts they seemed to be. Now I could
understand why the lady took so little notice of me. I, and all these
people, were like wreaths of mist to her. I turned towards her. She
was looking out with the same calm eyes. It was all unreal to her, but
she was very real to me, very beautiful. I wished she were not. I
wished she were not in the carriage; that it would stop; that I could
get out, and run, dancing and shouting, through the fields. I broke
the silence. I implored the lady to stop the carriage; to let me go
and find my home; to let me gather one buttercup, one blade of
grass. She drew her glimmering veil more closely around her; I believe
she thought the wind blew a little. On, on, we went! At length we
stopped, and I thought it was my mother's house. I looked out for the
little brown walls, the grass plot, the baby. I saw only the great
castle, frowning down upon me, and the lions with women's faces
looking at me with large, tranquil eyes. When we alighted from the
carriage I tried to escape, but the lady's power was upon me, and I
had to follow her up those stone steps. The door opened and closed. I
threw myself down by it; I pressed myself against it. I wept as if my