ful maiden in the looking-glass," she added; "her
face and motion are always the same as my own. But though she seems to
speak, her voice never reaches me; and she smiles, but only when I
smile; and mourns only when I mourn. We can never reach each other;
but there is more in her than in my birds and flowers."

"She is the shadow of yourself; no reality, Gnulemah."

"Are we shadows of each other, then? is she weary of her world, as I
of mine? shall we both escape to some other,--or only pass each into
the other's, and be separated as before?"

Balder, like wise men before him, was at some loss how to bring his
wisdom to bear here. He could not in one sentence explain the
complicated phenomena in question. Fortunately, however, Gnulemah (who
had apparently not yet learned to appeal from her own to another's
judgment) seemed hardly to expect a solution to problems upon which
she had expended much private thought.

"I have come to look on her as though she were myself, and she tells
me secrets which no one else can know. Some things she tells me that I
do not care to hear, but they are always true. I can see changes in;
her face that I feel in my own heart."

"Does she teach you that you grow every day more beautiful?" He was
willing to prove whether Gnulemah could thus be disconcerted. Many a
woman had he known, surprisingly innocent until a chance word or
glance betrayed profoundest depths.

"Our beauty is like the garden, which is beautiful every day, though
no day is just like another. But the changes I mean are in the spirit
that looks back at me from her eyes, when I enter deeply into them."

What connection could, after all, subsist between beauty and vanity in
one who neither had rivals nor aught to rival for? Doubtless she
enjoyed her beauty,--the more, as her taste was pure of conventional
falsities. How much of worldly experience would it take to vitiate
that integrity in her? Would it not be better to leave her to end her
life, restricted to the same innocent and lovely companionship which
had been hers thus far? Here the hoopoe, startled at some movement
that Balder made, abandoned his perch on his mistress's shoulder, and
flew to the top of the palm-tree. Had the day when such friends would
suffice her needs gone by?

Yes, it was now too late. No one who has beheld the sun can
thenceforth dispense with it. Balder had shone across the beautiful
recluse's path, and linked her to outside realities by a