“Please, dear North Wind,” he said, “I am so happy that I'm afraid it's

a dream. How am I to know that it's not a dream?”

“What does it matter?” returned North Wind.

“I should, cry” said Diamond.

“But why should you cry? The dream, if it is a dream, is a pleasant

one--is it not?”

“That's just why I want it to be true.”

“Have you forgotten what you said to Nanny about her dream?”

“It's not for the dream itself--I mean, it's not for the pleasure of

it,” answered Diamond, “for I have that, whether it be a dream or not;

it's for you, North Wind; I can't bear to find it a dream, because then

I should lose you. You would be nobody then, and I could not bear that.

You ain't a dream, are you, dear North Wind? Do say No, else I shall

cry, and come awake, and you'll be gone for ever. I daren't dream about

you once again if you ain't anybody.”

“I'm either not a dream, or there's something better that's not a dream,

Diamond,” said North Wind, in a rather sorrowful tone, he thought.

“But it's not something better--it's you I want, North Wind,” he

persisted, already beginning to cry a little.

She made no answer, but rose with him in her arms and sailed away over

the tree-tops till they came to a meadow, where a flock of sheep was

feeding.

“Do you remember what the song you were singing a week ago says about

Bo-Peep--how she lost her sheep, but got twice as many lambs?” asked

North Wind, sitting down on the grass, and placing him in her lap as

before.

“Oh yes, I do, well enough,” answered Diamond; “but I never just quite

liked that rhyme.”

“Why not, child?”

“Because it seems to say one's as good as another, or two new ones are

better than one that's lost. I've been thinking about it a great deal,

and it seems to me that although any one sixpence is as good as any

other sixpence, not twenty lambs would do instead of one sheep whose

face you knew. Somehow, when once you've looked into anybody's eyes,

right deep down into them, I mean, nobody will do for that one any more.

Nobody, ever so beautiful or so good, will make up for that one going

out of sight. So you see, North Wind, I can't help being frightened to

think that perhaps I am only dreaming, and you are nowhere at all. Do

tell me that you are my own, real, beautiful North Wind.”

Again she rose, and shot herself into the air, as if uneasy because she

could not answer him; and Diamond lay quiet in her arms, waiting

for what she would say. He tried to see up into her face, for he was

dreadfully afraid she was not answering him because she could not say

that she was not a dream; but she had let her hair fall all over her

face so that he could not see it. This frightened him still more.

“Do speak, North Wind,” he said at last.

“I never speak when I have nothing to say,” she replied.

“Then I do think you must be a real North Wind, and no dream,” said

Diamond.

“But I'm looking for something to say all the time.”

“But I don't want you to say what's hard to find. If you were to say one

word to comfort me that wasn't true, then I should know you must be a

dream, for a great beautiful lady like you could never tell a lie.”

“But she mightn't know how to say what she had to say, so that a little

boy like you would understand it,” said North Wind. “Here, let us get

down again, and I will try to tell you what I think. You musn't suppose

I am able to answer all your questions, though. There are a great many

things I don't understand more than you do.”

She descended on a grassy hillock, in the midst of a wild furzy common.

There was a rabbit-warren underneath, and some of the rabbits came out

of their holes, in the moonlight, looking very sober and wise, just like

patriarchs standing in their tent-doors, and looking about them before

going to bed. When they saw North Wind, instead of turning round and

vanishing again with a thump of their heels, they cantered slowly up to

her and snuffled all about her with their long upper lips, which moved

every way at once. That was their way of kissing her; and, as she talked

to Diamond, she would every now and then stroke down their furry backs,

or lift and play with their long ears. They would, Diamond thought, have

leaped upon her lap, but that he was there already.

“I think,” said she, after they had been sitting silent for a while,

“that if I were only a dream, you would not have been able to love me

so. You love me when you are not with me, don't you?”

“Indeed I do,” answered Diamond, stroking her hand. “I see! I see! How

could I be able to love you as I do if you weren't there at all, you

know? Besides, I couldn't be able to dream anything half so beautiful

all out of my own head; or if I did, I couldn't love a fancy of my own

like that, could I?”

“I think not. You might have loved me in a dream, dreamily, and

forgotten me when you woke, I daresay, but not loved me like a real

being as you love me. Even then, I don't think you could dream anything

that hadn't something real like it somewhere. But you've seen me in many

shapes, Diamond: you remember I was a wolf once--don't you?”

“Oh yes--a good wolf that frightened a naughty drunken nurse.”

“Well, suppose I were to turn ugly, would you rather I weren't a dream

then?”

“Yes; for I should know that you were beautiful inside all the same. You

would love me, and I should love you all the same. I shouldn't like you

to look ugly, you know. But I shouldn't believe it a bit.”

“Not if you saw it?”

“No, not if I saw it ever so plain.”

“There's my Diamond! I will tell you all I know about it then. I don't

think I am just what you fancy me to be. I have to shape myself various

ways to various people. But the heart of me is true. People call me

by dreadful names, and think they know all about me. But they don't.

Sometimes they call me Bad Fortune, sometimes Evil Chance, sometimes

Ruin; and they have another name for me which they think the most

dreadful of all.”

“What is that?” asked Diamond, smiling up in her face.

“I won't tell you that name. Do you remember having to go through me to

get into the country at my back?”

“Oh yes, I do. How cold you were, North Wind! and so white, all but your

lovely eyes! My heart grew like a lump of ice, and then I forgot for a

while.”

“You were very near knowing what they call me then. Would you be afraid

of me if you had to go through me again?”

“No. Why should I? Indeed I should be glad enough, if it was only to get

another peep of the country at your back.”

“You've never seen it yet.”

“Haven't I, North Wind? Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought I had. What did I

see then?”

“Only a picture of it. The real country at my real back is ever so much

more beautiful than that. You shall see it one day--perhaps before very

long.”

“Do they sing songs there?”

“Don't you remember the dream you had about the little boys that dug for

the stars?”

“Yes, that I do. I thought you must have had something to do with that

dream, it was so beautiful.”

“Yes; I gave you that dream.”

“Oh! thank you. Did you give Nanny her dream too--about the moon and the

bees?”

“Yes. I was the lady that sat at the window of the moon.”

“Oh, thank you. I was almost sure you had something to do with that too.

And did you tell Mr. Raymond the story about the Princess Daylight?”

“I believe I had something to do with it. At all events he thought about