arling, often, often, and none shall see me
either here or there. I will pass invisible through the air, or fly
over to thee like a bird. Oh, we will be much, much together, while
thou art so little! What can I do to please thee?"

"Thou must like me very dearly," said Elfrida, "as I like thee in my
heart; but come, let us make another rose." Zerina took a well-known
box from her bosom, threw two grains from it on the ground, and
instantly a green bush stood before them, with two deep-red roses,
bending their heads as if to kiss each other. The children plucked
them smiling, and the bush disappeared. "O that it would not die so
soon!" said Elfrida; "this red child, this wonder of the Earth!"

"Give it me here," said the little Elf; then breathed thrice upon the
budding rose, and kissed it thrice. "Now," said she, giving back the
rose, "it will continue fresh and blooming till winter."

"I will keep it," said Elfrida, "as an image of thee; I will guard it
in my little room, and kiss it night and morning as if it were
thyself."

"The sun is setting," said the other; "I must home." They embraced
again, and Zerina vanished.

In the evening, Mary clasped her child to her breast, with a feeling
of alarm and veneration. She henceforth allowed the good little girl
more liberty than formerly; and often calmed her husband, when he came
to search for the child; which for some time he was wont to do, as her
retiredness did not please him, and he feared that, in the end, it
might make her silly, or even pervert her understanding. The mother
often glided to the chink; and almost always found the bright Elf
beside her child, employed in sport, or in earnest conversation.

"Wouldst thou like to fly?" inquired Zerina once.

"Oh, well! How well!" replied Elfrida; and the fairy clasped her
mortal playmate in her arms, and mounted with her from the ground,
till they hovered above the arbor. The mother, in alarm, forgot
herself, and pushed out her head in terror to look after them; when
Zerina from the air, held up her finger, and threatened, yet smiled;
then descended with the child, embraced her, and disappeared. After
this, it happened more than once that Mary was observed by her; and
every time, the shining little creature shook her head, or threatened,
yet with friendly looks.

Often, in disputing with her husband, Mary had said in her zeal: "Thou
dost injustice to the poor people in the hut!" But when Andrew pressed
her to e