Selma—Fairies. (She comes to the log.)
Oswald— The children rose wide-eyed and let
Fall the wild-flowers they had gathered and stood
Listening. Again the cry: "Ho, children!"
(Selma sits down.)
Then
They, hand in hand, slowly, and half afraid,
Moved forward, and the voices, as they moved,
Moved onward, sometimes above them in the air
Singing, and sometimes in the fernshaws: "Ho,
Here we are!" And then a wisp of sun-bright hair
Flashed in the deeper shadows of the wood.
The children, shouting, "Catch her! There she goes!"
Darted in glee from trunk to trunk. At last
The voices died away. The children saw
The great trees glooming round them—
Selma— Oh, I know!
They cried themselves to sleep, for they were lost,
And then the birds brought leaves and—Didn't they?
No.
Oswald—As night came on, the elder of them, a boy,
Remembering to have heard a holy man
Speak of a house—a holy house—where men
Live as the angels live—
Selma— Went there?
Oswald— To pray.
To pray for help.
Selma— For the other child?
Oswald— For her.