The Flame-Flower 87

over her eyes, making a resolve that she
would never speak to Griffith again. ‘She
is not so fair as I,” she said; “yet this is
why he comes so often into the forest, pre-
tending to cut bows.” No—she would never
look at Griffith again; and, thinking this,
she turned and went slowly back to the place
where she had left him sleeping.

As she caught sight of him he was wak-
ing. The unknown maiden had wreathed
around him as he slept long trails of creeping
plants twined with forest flowers, and she
still sat by him. Griffith woke, and looked
at the maiden; and she stretched forth her
hand and stroked his curling hair. But
Griffith arose in wonder, as if he knew
her not; and when the maiden touched his
hand, he drew it away

“He quarrels with her,” said Flamma
to herself.

The maiden stretched forth her hand again
to touch his cheek, but he put her hand away
and turned from her.

“Fle knows her not!” said Flamma to
herself.