in at the door. It was enough, however, to allow Diamond to see that

North Wind stood beside him. He looked up to find her face, and saw that

she was no longer a beautiful giantess, but the tall gracious lady he

liked best to see. She took his hand, and, giving him the broad part

of the spiral stair to walk on, led him down a good way;

 then, opening

another little door, led him out upon a narrow gallery that ran all

round the central part of the church, on the ledges of the windows

of the clerestory, and through openings in the parts of the wall that

divided the windows from each other. It was very narrow, and except when

they were passing through the wall, Diamond saw nothing to keep him

from falling into the church. It lay below him like a great silent gulf

hollowed in stone, and he held his breath for fear as he looked down.

“What are you trembling for, little Diamond?” said the lady, as she

walked gently along, with her hand held out behind her leading him, for

there was not breadth enough for them to walk side by side.

“I am afraid of falling down there,” answered Diamond. “It is so deep

down.”

“Yes, rather,” answered North Wind; “but you were a hundred times higher

a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, yes, but somebody's arm was about me then,” said Diamond, putting

his little mouth to the beautiful cold hand that had a hold of his.

“What a dear little warm mouth you've got!” said North Wind. “It is a

pity you should talk nonsense with it. Don't you know I have a hold of

you?”

“Yes; but I'm walking on my own legs, and they might slip. I can't trust

myself so well as your arms.”

“But I have a hold of you, I tell you, foolish child.”

“Yes, but somehow I can't feel comfortable.”

“If you were to fall, and my hold of you were to give way, I should be

down after you in a less moment than a lady's watch can tick, and catch

you long before you had reached the ground.”

“I don't like it though,” said Diamond.

“Oh! oh! oh!” he screamed the next moment, bent double with terror, for

North Wind had let go her hold of his hand, and had vanished, leaving

him standing as if rooted to the gallery.

She left the words, “Come after me,” sounding in his ears.

But move he dared not. In a moment more he would from very terror have

fallen into the church, but suddenly there came a gentle breath of cool

wind upon his face, and it kept blowing upon him in little puffs, and at

every puff Diamond felt his faintness going away, and his fear with it.

Courage was reviving in his little heart, and still the cool wafts of

the soft wind breathed upon him, and the soft wind was so mighty and

strong within its gentleness, that in a minute more Diamond was marching

along the narrow ledge as fearless for the time as North Wind herself.

He walked on and on, with the windows all in a row on one side of him,

and the great empty nave of the church echoing to every one of his brave

strides on the other, until at last he came to a little open door, from

which a broader stair led him down and down and down, till at last all

at once he found himself in the arms of North Wind, who held him close

to her, and kissed him on the forehead. Diamond nestled to her, and

murmured into her bosom,--“Why did you leave me, dear North Wind?”

“Because I wanted you to walk alone,” she answered.

“But it is so much nicer here!” said Diamond.

“I daresay; but I couldn't hold a little coward to my heart. It would

make me so cold!”

“But I wasn't brave of myself,” said Diamond, whom my older readers will

have already discovered to be a true child in this, that he was given to

metaphysics. “It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave.

Wasn't it now, North Wind?”

“Yes: I know that. You had to be taught what courage was. And you

couldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore it was given

you. But don't you feel as if you would try to be brave yourself next

time?”

“Yes, I do. But trying is not much.”

“Yes, it is--a very great deal, for it is a beginning. And a beginning

is the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave. The

coward who tries to be brave is before the man who is brave because he

is made so, and never had to try.”

“How kind you are, North Wind!”

“I am only just. All kindness is but justice. We owe it.”

“I don't quite understand that.”

“Never mind; you will some day. There is no hurry about understanding it

now.”

“Who blew the wind on me that made me brave?”

“I did.”

“I didn't see you.”

“Therefore you can believe me.”

“Yes, yes; of course. But how was it that such a little breath could be

so strong?”

“That I don't know.”

“But you made it strong?”

“No: I only blew it. I knew it would make you strong, just as it did the

man in the boat, you remember. But how my breath has that power I cannot

tell. It was put into it when I was made. That is all I know. But really

I must be going about my work.”

“Ah! the poor ship! I wish you would stop here, and let the poor ship

go.”

“That I dare not do. Will you stop here till I come back?”

“Yes. You won't be long?”

“Not longer than I can help. Trust me, you shall get home before the

morning.”

In a moment North Wind was gone, and the next Diamond heard a moaning

about the church, which grew and grew to a roaring. The storm was up

again, and he knew that North Wind's hair was flying.

The church was dark. Only a little light came through the windows, which

were almost all of that precious old stained glass which is so much

lovelier than the new. But Diamond could not see how beautiful they

were, for there was not enough of light in the stars to show the colours

of them. He could only just distinguish them from the walls, He looked

up, but could not see the gallery along which he had passed. He could

only tell where it was far up by the faint glimmer of the windows of

the clerestory, whose sills made part of it. The church grew very lonely

about him, and he began to feel like a child whose mother has forsaken

it. Only he knew that to be left alone is not always to be forsaken.

He began to feel his way about the place, and for a while went wandering

up and down. His little footsteps waked little answering echoes in the

great house. It wasn't too big to mind him. It was as if the church knew

he was there, and meant to make itself his house. So it went on giving

back an answer to every step, until at length Diamond thought he should

like to say something out loud, and see what the church would answer.

But he found he was afraid to speak. He could not utter a word for fear

of the loneliness. Perhaps it was as well that he did not, for the sound

of a spoken word would have made him feel the place yet more deserted

and empty. But he thought he could sing. He was fond of singing, and

at home he used to sing, to tunes of his own, all the nursery rhymes he

knew. So he began to try `Hey diddle diddle', but it wouldn't do. Then

he tried `Little Boy Blue', but it was no better. Neither would `Sing a

Song of Sixpence' sing itself at all. Then he tried `Poor old Cockytoo',

but he wouldn't do. They all sounded so silly! and he had never thought

them silly before. So he was quiet, and listened to the echoes that came

out of the dark corners in answer to his footsteps.