THE ELF OF LIGHT.
135
is also an excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead. He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave and genereus and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could not be tempted to steal!"
Thule's mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now she came forward, and said,—
"I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on the battlefield!"
The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration, remained Thule's
