ful eyes met mine. At least that is how they impressed me; but I
could see very little of colour or outline as we sat in the dark and
rainy shadow of the tree. The face seemed very lovely, and solemn from
its stillness; with the aspect of one who is quite content, but waiting
for something. I saw my conjecture from her arms was correct: she was
above the human scale throughout, but not greatly.

"Why do you call yourself a beech-tree?" I said.

"Because I am one," she replied, in the same low, musical, murmuring
voice.

"You are a woman," I returned.

"Do you think so? Am I very like a woman then?"

"You are a very beautiful woman. Is it possible you should not know it?"

"I am very glad you think so. I fancy I feel like a woman sometimes. I
do so to-night--and always when the rain drips from my hair. For there
is an old prophecy in our woods that one day we shall all be men and
women like you. Do you know anything about it in your region? Shall I
be very happy when I am a woman? I fear not, for it is always in nights
like these that I feel like one. But I long to be a woman for all that."

I had let her talk on, for her voice was like a solution of all musical
sounds. I now told her that I could hardly say whether women were happy
or not. I knew one who had not been happy; and for my part, I had often
longed for Fairy Land, as she now longed for the world of men. But then
neither of us had lived long, and perhaps people grew happier as they
grew older. Only I doubted it.

I could not help sighing. She felt the sigh, for her arms were still
round me. She asked me how old I was.

"Twenty-one," said I.

"Why, you baby!" said she, and kissed me with the sweetest kiss of winds
and odours. There was a cool faithfulness in the kiss that revived my
heart wonderfully. I felt that I feared the dreadful Ash no more.

"What did the horrible Ash want with me?" I said.

"I am not quite sure, but I think he wants to bury you at the foot of
his tree. But he shall not touch you, my child."

"Are all the ash-trees as dreadful as he?"

"Oh, no. They are all disagreeable selfish creatures--(what horrid men
they will make, if it be true!)--but this one has a hole in his heart
that nobody knows of but one or two; and he is always trying to fill it
up, but he cannot. That must be what he wanted you for. I wonder if he
will ever be a man. If he is, I hope they will kill him."

"How kind of you to save me from him!"

"I will