espair. She listened and
listened, and the repeated cry came nearer; then she heard
footsteps--halting, stumbling and slipping. At last, by the dim light of
the stars, she saw a haggard, despairing face with fearful eyes; and
then she knew it was a poor man who had lost his way and was floundering
on to his death. Now he caught sight of a gleam of light from the
captive Moon, and made his uncertain way towards it, thinking it meant
help. As he came nearer and nearer the pool, the Moon saw that her light
was luring him to his death, and she felt so very sorry for him, and so
angry with herself that she struggled fiercely at the cords that held
her. It was all in vain, but, in her frantic struggles, the hood of her
cloak fell back from her dazzling golden hair, and immediately the whole
place was flooded with light, which fell on muddy pools and quicks and
quags, glinting on the twisted roots and making the whole place as clear
as day.

How glad the wayfarer was to see the light! How pleased he was to see
all the Evil Things of the dark scurrying back into their holes! He
could now find his way, and he made for the edge of the treacherous
marsh with such haste that he had not time to wonder at the strange
thing that had happened. He did not know that the blessed light that
showed him his path to safety shone from the radiant hair of the Moon,
bound fast to a snag and half buried in the bog. And the Moon herself
was so glad he was safe, that she forgot her own danger and need. But,
as she watched him making good his escape from the terrible dangers of
the marshes, she was overcome by a great longing to follow him. This
made her tug and strain again like a demented creature, until she sank
exhausted, but not free, in the mud at the foot of the snag. As she did
so, her head fell forward on her breast, and the hood of her cloak again
covered her shining hair.

At that moment, just as suddenly as the light had shone out before, the
darkness came down with a swish, and all the vile things that loved it
came out of their hiding-places with a kind of whispering screech which
grew louder and louder as they swarmed abroad on the marshes. Now they
gathered round the poor Moon, snarling and scratching at her and
screaming hateful mockeries at her. At last they had her in their
power--their old foe whose light they could not endure; the Bright One
whose smile of light sent them scurrying away into their crevices and
defeated their f