Said Dymer. And his host: “Why this must be
Aethereal, not aereal! Oh my soul,
Be still ... but wait. Tell on, Sir, tell the whole.”
18
Then Dymer told him of the beldam too,
The old, old, matriarchal dreadfulness.
Over the Master’s face a shadow drew,
He shifted in his chair and “Yes” and “Yes,”
He murmured twice. “I never looked for less!
Always the same ... that frightful woman shape