there.
Far up, high as the tops of the tallest trees, a great

blue-winged butterfly was passing across the open space with
loitering flight. In a few moments it was gone over the trees;

then she turned once more to me with a little rippling sound of
laughter--the first I had heard from her, and called: "Come,

come!"
I was glad enough to go with her then; and for the next two hours

we rambled together in the wood; that is, together in her way,
for though always near she contrived to keep out of my sight most

of the time. She was evidently now in a gay, frolicsome temper;
again and again, when I looked closely into some wide-spreading

bush, or peered behind a tree, when her calling voice had
sounded, her rippling laughter would come to me from some other

spot. At length, somewhere about the centre of the wood, she led
me to an immense mora tree, growing almost isolated, covering

with its shade a large space of ground entirely free from
undergrowth. At this spot she all at once vanished from my side;

and after listening and watching some time in vain, I sat down
beside the giant trunk to wait for her. Very soon I heard a low,

warbling sound which seemed quite near.
"Rime! Rima!" I called, and instantly" target="_blank" title="ad.立即，立刻">instantly my call was repeated like

an echo. Again and again I called, and still the words flew back
to me, and I could not decide whether it was an echo or not.

Then I gave up calling; and presently the low, warbling sound was
repeated, and I knew that Rima was somewhere near me.

"Rime, where are you?" I called.
"Rime, where are you?" came the answer.

"You are behind the tree."
"You are behind the tree."

"I shall catch you, Rima." And this time, instead of repeating
my words, she answered: "Oh no."

I jumped up and ran round the tree, feeling sure that I should
find her. It was about thirty-five or forty feet in

circumference; and after going round two or three times, I turned
and ran the other way, but failing to catch a glimpse of her I at

last sat down again.
"Rime, Rima!" sounded the mocking voice as soon as I had sat

down. "Where are you, Rima? I shall catch you, Rima! Have you
caught Rima?"

"No, I have not caught her. There is no Rima now. She has faded
away like a rainbow--like a drop of dew in the sun. I have lost

her; I shall go to sleep." And stretching myself out at full
length under the tree, I remained quiet for two or three minutes.

Then a slight rustling sound was heard, and I looked eagerly
round for her. But the sound was overhead and caused by a great

avalanche of leaves which began to descend on me from that vast
leafy canopy above.

"Ah, little spider-monkey--little green tree-snake--you are
there!" But there was no seeing her in that immense aerial

palace hung with dim drapery of green and copper-coloured leaves.
But how had she got there? Up the stupendous trunk even a monkey

could not have climbed, and there were no lianas dropping to
earth from the wide horizontal branches that I could see; but by

and by, looking further away, I perceived that on one side the
longest lower branches reached and mingled with the shorter

boughs of the neighbouring trees. While gazing up I heard her
low, rippling laugh, and then caught sight of her as she ran

along an exposed horizontal branch, erect on her feet; and my
heart stood still with terror, for she was fifty to sixty feet

above the ground. In another moment she vanished from sight in a
cloud of foliage, and I saw no more of her for about ten minutes,

when all at once she appeared at my side once more, having come
round the trunk of the more. Her face had a bright, pleased

expression, and showed no trace of fatigue or agitation.
I caught her hand in mine. It was a delicate, shapely little

hand, soft as velvet, and warm--a real human hand; only now when
I held it did she seem altogether like a human being and not a

mocking spirit of the wood, a daughter of the Didi.
"Do you like me to hold your hand, Rima?"

"Yes," she replied, with indifference.
"Is it I?"

"Yes." This time as if it was small satisfaction to make
acquaintance with this purelyphysical part of me.

Having her so close gave me an opportunity of examining that
light sheeny garment she wore always in the woods. It felt soft

and satiny to the touch, and there was no seam nor hem in it that
I could see, but it was all in one piece, like the cocoon of the

caterpillar. While I was feeling it on her shoulder and looking
narrowly at it, she glanced at me with a mocking laugh in her

eyes.
"Is it silk?" I asked. Then, as she remained silent, I

continued: "Where did you get this dress, Rima? Did you make it
yourself? Tell me."

She answered not in words, but in response to my question a new
look came into her face; no longer restless and full of change in

her expression, she was now as immovable as an alabaster statue;
not a silken hair on her head trembled; her eyes were wide open,

gazing fixedly before her; and when I looked into them they
seemed to see and yet not to see me. They were like the clear,

brilliant eyes of a bird, which reflect as in a miraculous mirror
all the visible world but do not return our look and seem to see

us merely as one of the thousand small details that make up the
whole picture. Suddenly she darted out her hand like a flash,

making me start at the unexpectedmotion, and quickly withdrawing
it, held up a finger before me. From its tip a minute gossamer

spider, about twice the bigness of a pin's head, appeared
suspended from a fine, scarcely visible line three or four inches

long.
"Look!" she exclaimed, with a bright glance at my face.

The small spider she had captured, anxious to be free, was
falling, falling earthward, but could not reach the surface.

Leaning her shoulder a little forward, she placed the finger-tip
against it, but lightly, scarcely touching, and moving

continuously, with a motion rapid as that of a fluttering moth's
wing; while the spider, still paying out his line, remained

suspended, rising and falling slightly at nearly the same
distance from the ground. After a few moments she cried: "Drop

down, little spider." Her finger's motion ceased, and the minute
captive fell, to lose itself on the shaded ground.

"Do you not see?" she said to me, pointing to her shoulder.
Just where the finger-tip had touched the garment a round shining

spot appeared, looking like a silver coin on the cloth; but on
touching it with my finger it seemed part of the original fabric,

only whiter and more shiny on the grey ground, on account of the
freshness of the web of which it had just been made.

And so all this curious and pretty performance, which seemed
instinctive in its spontaneous quickness and dexterity, was

merely intended to show me how she made her garments out of the
fine floating lines of small gossamer spiders!

Before I could express my surprise and admiration she cried
again, with startling suddenness: "Look!"

A minute shadowy form darted by, appearing like a dim line traced
across the deep glossy more foliage, then on the lighter green