her? So different--so full of life, like a bird, when you are
alone in the woods? Rima, speak to me! Am I no more to you than your old
grandfather? Do you not like me to talk to you?"

She appeared strangely disturbed at my words. "Oh, you are not like
him," she suddenly replied. "Sitting all day on a log by the fire--all
day, all day; Goloso and Susio lying beside him--sleep, sleep. Oh, when
I saw you in the wood I followed you, and talked and talked; still no
answer. Why will you not come when I call? To me!" Then, mocking my
voice: "Rima, Rima! Come here! Do this! Say that! Rima! Rima! It is
nothing, nothing--it is not you," pointing to my mouth, and then, as if
fearing that her meaning had not been made clear, suddenly touching my
lips with her finger. "Why do you not answer me?--speak to me--speak to
me, like this!" And turning a little more towards me, and glancing at me
with eyes that had all at once changed, losing their clouded expression
for one of exquisite tenderness, from her lips came a succession of
those mysterious sounds which had first attracted me to her, swift
and low and bird-like, yet with something so much higher and more
soul-penetrating than any bird-music. Ah, what feeling and fancies, what
quaint turns of expression, unfamiliar to my mind, were contained in
those sweet, wasted symbols! I could never know--never come to her
when she called, or respond to her spirit. To me they would always
be inarticulate sounds, affecting me like a tender spiritual music--a
language without words, suggesting more than words to the soul.

The mysterious speech died down to a lisping sound, like the faint note
of some small bird falling from a cloud of foliage on the topmost bough
of a tree; and at the same time that new light passed from her eyes, and
she half averted her face in a disappointed way.

"Rima," I said at length, a new thought coming to my aid, "it is true
that I am not here," touching my lips as she had done, "and that
my words are nothing. But look into my eyes, and you will see me
there--all, all that is in my heart."

"Oh, I know what I should see there!" she returned quickly.

"What would you see--tell me?"

"There is a little black ball in the middle of your eye; I should see
myself in it no bigger than that," and she marked off about an eighth of
her little fingernail. "There is a pool in the wood, and I look down and
see myself there. That is better. Just as large as I am--not small
a