The two children only stood still and gazed and gazed, with widening eyes and parted lips. They could not have moved about at first; they only stood and lost themselves as in a dream.
Meg was still for so long that Robin, turning slowly to look at her at last, was rather awed.
“Meg!” he said; “Meg!”
“Yes,” she answered, in a voice only half awake.
“Meg! Meg! We are there!”
“I know,” said Meg. “Only it is so like—that other City—that it seems as if——” She gave a queer little laugh, and turned to look at him. “Rob,” she said, “perhaps we are dead, and have just wakened up.”
That brought them back to earth. They laughed together. No, they were not dead. They were breathless and uplifted by an ecstasy, but they had never been so fully alive before. It seemed as if they were in the centre of the world, and the world was such a bright and radiant and beautiful place as they had never dreamed of.
“Where shall we go first?” said Meg. “What shall we do?”
But it was so difficult to decide that. It did not seem possible to make a plan and follow it. It was not possible for them, at least. They were too happy and too young. Surely visitors to fairy-land could not make plans! They gave themselves up to the spell, and went where fancy led them. And it led them far, and through strange beauties, which seemed like dreams come true. They wandered down broad pathways, past green sward, waving palms, glowing masses of flowers, white balustrades bordering lagoons lightly ruffled by a moment’s wind. Wonderful statues stood on silent guard, sometimes in groups, sometimes majestic colossal figures.
“They look as if they were all watching the thousands and thousands go by,” said Robin.