stretching away, away into the blue immensity of space on either side.
"Oh," said Eepersip, " a dream! Oh, what a beautiful dream! But—I feel so wide awake."
She gazed and gazed, silent.
"Oh," she said again, after a while, "it cannot be a dream, it mustn't be a dream!"
She gazed and gazed again.
"Oh," she repeated, "I must go there at once! The snowy mountains!"
She plunged into the beautiful, icy lake and swam across it with never a thought of the beauty in the green depths around her. Her eyes were fixed upon that one thing only. Soon she reached the opposite shore, consisting only of thick woods. Her heart—that heart beautiful, yet with a certain sense of childlikeness in it which had never left her—was mad for a glimpse of those mountains. It was then that she felt as if there were a great bird in her, pulling her, hauling her forward, regardless of the thorns and nettles which tore her delicate dress of ferns and blossoms. At last she got through the forest and found herself in an open meadow, with the wondrous mountain before her and warm rain falling gently. She saw a farmhouse, and as she went along the simple peasant farmer saw her and muttered to his wife: "Look
