n, Prince?' said she.

'Yes, Winnie,' I replied; 'I've been waiting for you.'

'Been waiting for poor Winnie?' she said, her eyes sparkling anew
with pleasure; and she sat down close by my side, gazing hungrily at
the food--her hands resting on her lap.

I laid my hand upon one of hers; it was so damp and cold that it made
me shudder.

'Why, Winifred,' I said, 'how cold you are!' 'The hills are _so_
cold!' said she, '_so_ cold when the stars go out, and the red
streaks begin to come.'

'May I warm your hands in mine, Winnie?' I said, longing to clasp the
dear fingers, but trembling lest anything I might say or do should
bring about a repetition of last night's catastrophe.

'_Will_ you, Prince?' said she. 'How very, very kind!' and in a
moment the hand was between mine.

Remembering that it was through looking into my eyes that she
recognised me in the cottage, I now avoided looking straight into
hers. All this time she kept gazing wistfully at the food spread out
on the ground.

'Are you hungry, Winifred?' I said.

'Oh yes; _so_ hungry!' said she, shaking her head in a sad meditative
way. 'Poor Winifred is so hungry and cold and lonely!'

'Will you breakfast with the Prince of the Mist, Winifred?'

'Oh, may I, Prince?' she asked, her face beaming with delight.

'To be sure you may, Winnie. You may always breakfast with the Prince
of the Mist if you like.'

'Always? Always?' she repeated.

'Yes, Winnie,' I said, as I handed her some bread and meat, which she
devoured ravenously.

'Yes, dear Winnie,' I continued, handing her a foaming horn of
Sinfi's ale, to which she did as full justice as she was doing to the
bread and meat. 'Yes, I want you to breakfast with me and dine with
me always.'

'Do you mean _live_ with you, Prince?' she asked, looking me dreamily
in the face--'live with you behind the white mist? Is this our
wedding breakfast, Prince?'

'Yes, Winnie.'

Then her eyes wandered down over her dress, and she said, 'Ah! how
strange I did not notice my green fairy kirtle before. And I declare
I never felt till this moment the wreath of gold leaves round my
forehead. Do they shine much in the sun?'

'They quite dazzle me, Winnie,' I said, arching my hand above my
eyes, as if to protect them from the glare.

'Do you have a nice fire there when it's very cold?' she said.

'Yes, Winifred,' I said.

She then sank into silence, while I kept plying her with food.

After she had appeased her