curing of
her. On and on she carried her without a word. She knew that if she set
her down she would never run after her like the princess, at least not
before the evil thing was already upon her. On and on she went, never
halting, never letting the light look in, or Agnes look out. She walked
very fast, and got home to her cottage very soon after the princess had
gone from it.

But she did not set Agnes down either in the cottage or in the great
hall. She had other places, none of them alike. The place she had
chosen for Agnes was a strange one--such a one as is to be found
nowhere else in the wide world.

It was a great hollow sphere, made of a substance similar to that of
the mirror which Rosamond had broken, but differently compounded. That
substance no one could see by itself. It had neither door, nor window,
nor any opening to break its perfect roundness.

The wise woman carried Agnes into a dark room, there undressed her,
took from her hand her knitting-needles, and put her, naked as she was
born, into the hollow sphere.

What sort of a place it was she could not tell. She could see nothing
but a faint cold bluish light all about her. She could not feel that
any thing supported her, and yet she did not sink. She stood for a
while, perfectly calm, then sat down. Nothing bad could happen to
HER--she was so important! And, indeed, it was but this: she had cared
only for Somebody, and now she was going to have only Somebody. Her own
choice was going to be carried a good deal farther for her than she
would have knowingly carried it for herself.

After sitting a while, she wished she had something to do, but nothing
came. A little longer, and it grew wearisome. She would see whether she
could not walk out of the strange luminous dusk that surrounded her.

Walk she found she could, well enough, but walk out she could not. On
and on she went, keeping as much in a straight line as she might, but
after walking until she was thoroughly tired, she found herself no
nearer out of her prison than before. She had not, indeed, advanced a
single step; for, in whatever direction she tried to go, the sphere
turned round and round, answering her feet accordingly. Like a squirrel
in his cage she but kept placing another spot of the cunningly
suspended sphere under her feet, and she would have been still only at
its lowest point after walking for ages.

At length she cried aloud; but there was no answer. It grew dreary and
dre