it one night when he couldn't sleep. But I want to ask you whether you

remember the song the boy-angels sang in that dream of yours.”

“No. I couldn't keep it, do what I would, and I did try.”

“That was my fault.”

“How could that be, North Wind?”

“Because I didn't know it properly myself, and so I couldn't teach it to

you. I could only make a rough guess at something like what it would be,

and so I wasn't able to make you dream it hard enough to remember it.

Nor would I have done so if I could, for it was not correct. I made you

dream pictures of it, though. But you will hear the very song itself

when you do get to the back of----”

“My own dear North Wind,” said Diamond, finishing the sentence for her,

and kissing the arm that held him leaning against her.

“And now we've settled all this--for the time, at least,” said North

Wind.

“But I can't feel quite sure yet,” said Diamond.

“You must wait a while for that. Meantime you may be hopeful, and

content not to be quite sure. Come now, I will take you home again, for

it won't do to tire you too much.”

“Oh, no, no. I'm not the least tired,” pleaded Diamond.

“It is better, though.”

“Very well; if you wish it,” yielded Diamond with a sigh.

“You are a dear good, boy” said North Wind. “I will come for you again

to-morrow night and take you out for a longer time. We shall make a

little journey together, in fact, we shall start earlier, and as the

moon will be later, we shall have a little moonlight all the way.”

She rose, and swept over the meadow and the trees. In a few moments

the Mound appeared below them. She sank a little, and floated in at the

window of Diamond's room. There she laid him on his bed, covered him

over, and in a moment he was lapt in a dreamless sleep.

THE next night Diamond was seated by his open window, with his head on

his hand, rather tired, but so eagerly waiting for the promised visit

that he was afraid he could not sleep. But he started suddenly, and

found that he had been already asleep. He rose, and looking out of the

window saw something white against his beech-tree. It was North Wind.

She was holding by one hand to a top branch. Her hair and her garments

went floating away behind her over the tree, whose top was swaying about

while the others were still.

“Are you ready, Diamond?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Diamond, “quite ready.”

In a moment she was at the window, and her arms came in and took him.

She sailed away so swiftly that he could at first mark nothing but the

speed with which the clouds above and the dim earth below went rushing

past. But soon he began to see that the sky was very lovely, with

mottled clouds all about the moon, on which she threw faint colours like

those of mother-of-pearl, or an opal. The night was warm, and in the

lady's arms he did not feel the wind which down below was making waves

in the ripe corn, and ripples on the rivers and lakes. At length they

descended on the side of an open earthy hill, just where, from beneath a

stone, a spring came bubbling out.

“I am going to take you along this little brook,” said North Wind. “I am

not wanted for anything else to-night, so I can give you a treat.”

She stooped over the stream and holding Diamond down close to the

surface of it, glided along level with its flow as it ran down the hill.

And the song of the brook came up into Diamond's ears, and grew and

grew and changed with every turn. It seemed to Diamond to be singing the

story of its life to him. And so it was. It began with a musical tinkle

which changed to a babble and then to a gentle rushing. Sometimes its

song would almost cease, and then break out again, tinkle, babble, and

rush, all at once. At the bottom of the hill they came to a small river,

into which the brook flowed with a muffled but merry sound. Along the

surface of the river, darkly clear below them in the moonlight, they

floated; now, where it widened out into a little lake, they would hover

for a moment over a bed of water-lilies, and watch them swing about,

folded in sleep, as the water on which they leaned swayed in the

presence of North Wind; and now they would watch the fishes asleep among

their roots below. Sometimes she would hold Diamond over a deep hollow

curving into the bank, that he might look far into the cool stillness.

Sometimes she would leave the river and sweep across a clover-field. The

bees were all at home, and the clover was asleep. Then she would return

and follow the river. It grew wider and wider as it went. Now the armies

of wheat and of oats would hang over its rush from the opposite banks;

now the willows would dip low branches in its still waters; and now it

would lead them through stately trees and grassy banks into a lovely

garden, where the roses and lilies were asleep, the tender flowers

quite folded up, and only a few wide-awake and sending out their life in

sweet, strong odours. Wider and wider grew the stream, until they came

upon boats lying along its banks, which rocked a little in the flutter

of North Wind's garments. Then came houses on the banks, each standing

in a lovely lawn, with grand trees; and in parts the river was so high

that some of the grass and the roots of some of the trees were under

water, and Diamond, as they glided through between the stems, could see

the grass at the bottom of the water. Then they would leave the river

and float about and over the houses, one after another--beautiful rich

houses, which, like fine trees, had taken centuries to grow. There was

scarcely a light to be seen, and not a movement to be heard: all the

people in them lay fast asleep.

“What a lot of dreams they must be dreaming!” said Diamond.

“Yes,” returned North Wind. “They can't surely be all lies--can they?”

“I should think it depends a little on who dreams them,” suggested

Diamond.

“Yes,” said North Wind. “The people who think lies, and do lies, are

very likely to dream lies. But the people who love what is true will

surely now and then dream true things. But then something depends on

whether the dreams are home-grown, or whether the seed of them is blown

over somebody else's garden-wall. Ah! there's some one awake in this

house!”

They were floating past a window in which a light was burning. Diamond

heard a moan, and looked up anxiously in North Wind's face.

“It's a lady,” said North Wind. “She can't sleep for pain.”

“Couldn't you do something for her?” said Diamond.

“No, I can't. But you could.”

“What could I do?”

“Sing a little song to her.”

“She wouldn't hear me.”

“I will take you in, and then she will hear you.”

“But that would be rude, wouldn't it? You can go where you please, of

course, but I should have no business in her room.”

“You may trust me, Diamond. I shall take as good care of the lady as of

you. The window is open. Come.”

By a shaded lamp, a lady was seated in a white wrapper, trying to read,

but moaning every minute. North Wind floated behind her chair,

set Diamond down, and told him to sing something. He was a little

frightened, but he thought a while, and then sang:--

           The sun is gone down,

           And the moon's in the sky;

           But the sun will come up,