back had vanished from
Diamond's view.

North Wind was as still as Diamond had left her. Her pale face was white
as the snow, and her motionless eyes were as blue as the caverns in the
ice. But the instant Diamond touched her, her face began to change like
that of one waking from sleep. Light began to glimmer from the blue of
her eyes.

A moment more, and she laid her hand on Diamond's head, and began
playing with his hair. Diamond took hold of her hand, and laid his face
to it. She gave a little start.

"How very alive you are, child!" she murmured. "Come nearer to me."

By the help of the stones all around he clambered up beside her, and
laid himself against her bosom. She gave a great sigh, slowly lifted her
arms, and slowly folded them about him, until she clasped him close. Yet
a moment, and she roused herself, and came quite awake; and the cold of
her bosom, which had pierced Diamond's bones, vanished.

"Have you been sitting here ever since I went through you, dear North
Wind?" asked Diamond, stroking her hand.

"Yes," she answered, looking at him with her old kindness.

"Ain't you very tired?"

"No; I've often had to sit longer. Do you know how long you have been?"

"Oh! years and years," answered Diamond.

"You have just been seven days," returned North Wind.

"I thought I had been a hundred years!" exclaimed Diamond.

"Yes, I daresay," replied North Wind. "You've been away from here seven
days; but how long you may have been in there is quite another thing.
Behind my back and before my face things are so different! They don't go
at all by the same rule."

"I'm very glad," said Diamond, after thinking a while.

"Why?" asked North Wind.

"Because I've been such a long time there, and such a little while away
from mother. Why, she won't be expecting me home from Sandwich yet!"

"No. But we mustn't talk any longer. I've got my orders now, and we must
be off in a few minutes."

Next moment Diamond found himself sitting alone on the rock. North Wind
had vanished. A creature like a great humble-bee or cockchafer flew past
his face; but it could be neither, for there were no insects amongst the
ice. It passed him again and again, flying in circles around him, and he
concluded that it must be North Wind herself, no bigger than Tom Thumb
when his mother put him in the nutshell lined with flannel. But she was
no longer vapoury and thin. She was solid, although tiny. A moment more,
and she perched on