d
like a cataract, here falling in dull gathered heaps, there rushing
away in smooth shining falls. And ever as she looked, the hair seemed
pouring down from her head and vanishing in a golden mist ere it
reached the floor. It flowed from under the edge of a circle of
shining silver, set with alternated pearls and opals. On her dress was
no ornament whatever, neither was there a ring on her hand, or a
necklace or carcanet about her neck. But her slippers glimmered with
the light of the Milky Way, for they were covered with seed-pearls and
opals in one mass. Her face was that of a woman of three-and-twenty.

The princess was so bewildered with astonishment and admiration that
she could hardly thank her, and drew nigh with timidity, feeling dirty
and uncomfortable. The lady was seated on a low chair by the side of
the fire, with hands outstretched to take her, but the princess hung
back with a troubled smile.

'Why, what's the matter?' asked her grandmother. 'You haven't been
doing anything wrong--I know that by your face, though it is rather
miserable. What's the matter, my dear?'

And she still held out her arms.

'Dear grandmother,' said Irene, 'I'm not so sure that I haven't done
something wrong. I ought to have run up to you at once when the
long-legged cat came in at the window, instead of running out on the
mountain and making myself such a fright.'

'You were taken by surprise, my child, and you are not so likely to do
it again. It is when people do wrong things wilfully that they are the
more likely to do them again. Come.'

And still she held out her arms.

'But, grandmother, you're so beautiful and grand with your crown on;
and I am so dirty with mud and rain! I should quite spoil your
beautiful blue dress.'

With a merry little laugh the lady sprung from her chair, more lightly
far than Irene herself could, caught the child to her bosom, and,
kissing the tear-stained face over and over, sat down with her in her
lap.

'Oh, grandmother! You'll make yourself such a mess!' cried Irene,
clinging to her.

'You darling! do you think I care more for my dress than for my little
girl? Besides--look here.'

As she spoke she set her down, and Irene saw to her dismay that the
lovely dress was covered with the mud of her fall on the mountain road.
But the lady stooped to the fire, and taking from it, by the stalk in
her fingers, one of the burning roses, passed it once and again and a
third tim