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now pointed out some steps in the rock leading up still higher.

      'The eagles want us to go up there,' he said. 'We shall see right over the forest and ever so far.'

      And so they did, for the steps led up a long way till they ended on another rock-shelf right on the face of the cliff. From here the great fir-forests looked but like dark patches far below, while away, away in the distance stretched on one side the great plain across which the children had journeyed on their first coming to the white castle; and on the other the distant forms of mountain ranges, gray-blue, shading fainter and fainter till the clouds themselves looked more real.

      It was cold, very cold, up here on the edge of the great bare rocks. The beauty of the sunrise had sobered down into the chilly freshness of an early summer morning; the world seemed still asleep, and the children shivered a little.

      'I don't think I should like to live always as high up as this,' said Maia. 'It's very lonely and very cold.'

      'You would need to be dressed in feathers like the eagles if you did,' replied Silva; 'and if one had eyes like theirs, I dare say one would never feel lonely. One would see so much.'

      'I wonder,' said Maia—and then she stopped.

      'What were you going to say?' asked Rollo.

      Maia's eyes looked far over the plain as if, like the eagles, they would pierce the distance.

      'It was from there we came,' she said. 'I wonder if it will be from there that father will come to take us away. Do you think that the eagles will know when he is coming? do you think they will see him from very far off?'

      Silva looked over the plain without speaking, and into her dark eyes there crept something that was not in Maia's blue ones.

      'Maia,' exclaimed Rollo reproachfully, 'Silva is crying. She doesn't like you to talk of us going away.'

      In an instant Maia's arms were round Silva's neck.

      'Don't cry, Silva—you mustn't,' she said. 'When we go away you and Waldo shall come too—we will ask our father, won't we, Rollo?'

      'And godmother?' said Silva, smiling again. 'What would she say? We are her children, Maia, and the children of the forest. We should not be fit to live as you do in the great world of men out away there. No; we can always love each other, and perhaps you and Rollo will come away out of the world sometimes to see us—but we must stay in our own country.'

      'Never mind—don't talk about it just now,' said Maia. 'I wish I hadn't said anything about father coming. I dare say he won't come for a very long while, and when we can see you and Waldo we are never dull. It's only at the castle when they give us such lots of lessons and everybody is so prim and so cross if we're the least bit late. Oh, dear!—I was forgetting—shan't we be late for breakfast this morning? Is godmother coming to fetch us?'

      'We are going home now,' said Waldo. 'But first we must say good-bye to the eagles. Here they are,' for as he spoke the two royal birds came circling down from overhead and settled themselves on the very edge of the cliff, whose dizzy height they calmly overlooked—their gaze fixed far beyond.

      'That is where they always stay watching,' said Waldo, in a low voice, and then the children went forward till they were but a few steps behind the pair. Farther it would not have been safe to go.

      'Good-bye, king and queen,' they said all together, and the eagles, slowly turning round, though without moving from their places, answered in their grave voices:

      'Farewell, children. We will watch you, though you may not know it. Farewell.'

      Then Waldo led the others down the rock stair by which they had come up—down past the balcony where they had had their collation of fruit, till they found themselves in the feather-lined hall.

      'There is something rather sad about the eagles,' said Maia. 'Do you think it is watching so much that makes them sad?'

      'Perhaps,' said Silva. 'Come and sit down here in this snug corner. Look, there is a feather arm-chair for each of us—it is a little chilly, don't you think?'

      'Yes, perhaps it is. But tell me if you know why the eagles are sad.'

      'I think they are more grave than sad,' replied Silva. 'I dare say watching so much does make them so.'

      'Why? Do they see so far? Do they see all sorts of things?' asked Maia in a rather awe-struck tone. 'Are they like fairies, Silva?'

      'I don't know exactly,' said Silva. 'But I think they are very wise, and I expect they know a great deal.'

      'But they can't know as much as godmother, and she isn't sad,' said Maia.

      'Sometimes she is,' said Silva. 'Besides, she has more to do than the eagles. They have only to watch—she puts things right. You'll understand better some day,' she added, seeing that Maia looked puzzled. 'But isn't it cold? Oh, see there—that's to wrap ourselves up in,' for just at this moment there flapped down on them, from no one could tell where, the great soft fluffy cloak or rug which had kept them so beautifully warm during their air-journey.

      'Come under the shawl,' cried Maia to the two boys, and all the children drew their seats close together and wrapped the wonderful cloak well round them.

      'But aren't we going home soon?' said Maia. 'I'm so afraid of being late.'

      'Godmother knows all about it,' said Waldo. 'She's sent us this cloak on purpose. There's nothing to do but sit still—till she tells us what we're to do. I don't mind, for somehow I'm rather sleepy.'

      'I think I am too,' said Rollo, and though Silva and Maia were less ready to allow it, I think they must have felt the same, for somehow or other two minutes later all the four were taking a comfortable nap, and knew nothing more till a soft clear voice whispered in their ears:

      'Children, it is time to wake up.'

      'Time to go home! Are the birds coming for us again?' said Maia, rubbing her eyes and staring about her. A voice softly laughing replied to her:

      'Birds—what birds are you talking about? You're not awake yet, Maia, and I've been telling you to wake ever so long.'

      It was Rollo.

      'You, why I thought it was godmother,' said Maia; 'I heard her say, "Children, it is time to wake up," and I thought we were all in the feather-hall still. How did we get back, Rollo?'

      For 'back' they were. Maia in her own little bed in the white castle, and Rollo standing beside her in his ordinary dress. Where were Waldo and Silva—where the feather-hall—where the wonderful dresses in which godmother had clothed them for the air-journey? Maia looked up at Rollo as she spoke, with disappointment in her eyes.

      'We are back,' he said, 'and that's all there is to say about it, as far as I can see. But come, Maia, don't look so unhappy. We've had great fun, and we must be very good after it to please godmother. It's a lovely day, and after we've finished our lessons we can have some nice runs in the fields. Jump up—you're not a bit tired, are you? I'm not.'

      'Nor am I,' said Maia, slowly bestirring herself. 'But I'm rather dull. I'm afraid we shan't see them again for a good while, Rollo.'

      CHAPTER XII.

       A VISION OF CHRISTMAS TREES.

       Table of Contents

      'The angels are abroad to-night.'

       At Christmas-tide.

      It was early summer when we saw them last. It is mid-winter—December—now. And winter comes in good earnest in the country where I have shown you the white castle, and told you of the doings and adventures of its two little guests. Many more could I tell you of—many a joyous summer day had they spent with their forest friends, many a wonderful dance had godmother led them, till they had got to know nearly

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