A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another. Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,—
"Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;
The little gnomes sit and weep;
'Make her,—if must be,—a snowy wee lamb,
In the fold with her father's sheep.'"
Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some one talking between the teeth. Then Zora spoke, and the charm was broken. She did not intend to speak; but asked, "What noise was that?" before she thought.
"You have broken the charm," said the fairy. "The soft-hearted gnomes are unwilling to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a sheep, and die by the knife.
