water; and no doubt thinking under water is
the same as talking out of it.' Besides, though this wonderful little
water-maiden was but six inches tall, her thoughts were evidently
quite as big as those of an ordinary grown-up person, so that they
must be so much the more easily visible. And, finally, why should
Oscar trouble himself about how anything happened, as long as it did
happen, and was agreeable? Probably it was because he already loved
this exquisite fairy so much, that he was able to understand what was
passing in her mind.

He named her Theeda--he did not know why, except that that sounded as
if it must be her name, and she seemed to be perfectly satisfied with
it. And so these two fell in love with each other at first sight,
though she lived in water and he in air, and there could therefore be
no meeting between them, except the meeting of their hearts and eyes.
They must even kiss each other through the crystal. Nevertheless they
were as happy as the day was long, and indeed much happier, for time
is a thing with which happiness has very little to do. Oscar's only
regret was that Theeda could not be with him when he took his walks
upon the shore. He enjoyed his walks, however, more than he had ever
before done, because now the earth and the sea and the sky not only
said to him, 'We are like you, Oscar,' but also, 'Theeda loves you!'

CHAPTER IV.

THE CRAB.

Oscar could never see enough of his little water-maiden; and he talked
to her perhaps all the more because she answered him only by
sympathetic thoughts. He told her all that he knew of his life before
she came to him--about his dreams by night and his reveries by day;
about all the beauties of the world that she could not see from the
crystal imprisonment of her vase; about his mother, too, and how the
sails of the ship in which she went away had been lit up by the light
beyond just before reaching the horizon verge. He spoke likewise of
his father, how good and great he was, and how, although he lived and
ruled in a distant country, he never forgot to send his little son all
things that were necessary for his comfort and happiness.

'And I believe, Theeda,' added Oscar, 'that he put you in the
pearl-shell for me. Perhaps you have seen him?'

Theeda threw back her floating mist of hair, and smiled.

'Ah, of course, everybody who is good and lovely must have come from
him,' Oscar murmured, as if answering something she had said. And the