The Flame-Flower 89

and the branches of the oak sighed in the
breeze above.

Flamma, hating Griffith and the hama-
dryad, went toward home. She saw a little
flicker among the bracken, and she knew it
was the flame-flower, which she had not seen
for so long.

As she took it up and put it in her breast,
a voice seemed to say, “Place me between
Griffith and thyself, and he will turn to thee.”

But as the flower flickered in her breast,
she stopped; then turned and hurried back
to the hamadryad, finding her still sitting
with drooping head upon the oak roots ; and
Flamma went and sat by her side, putting her
arms round her; and the hamadryad gazed
upon the flower with eyes like a child's.

It was nearly dark when Flamma left her
and hurried toward the camp; and now she
thought no more of herself, but only of
the hamadryad’s grief. The voice in the
flower seemed to keep repeating, ‘‘ Place me
between Griffith and thyself.”

By the edge of the wood she met Griffith
coming to seek her and bring her to the