“Oh, why do we journey so far to-night, Walado?” said Lilleela wearily. “There is a mountain lying in the light of the northern star, which is filled with yellow gold; its caverns are lined with jewels; I seek them for you, my Lilleela.” As he ceased speaking, again that wailing sound filled with awful menace smote their ears: “o-o-W-ee” a sound that rose from fretful discontent into fiercest anger, then died away like a long sigh of satisfied hate. “I am afraid, Walado! Oh do return!” cried Lilleela in terror. “’Tis but the wind, beloved one,” answered Walado stoutly, though he too shivered. “Nay! nay! It is the Ice King passing by in his chariot of storm, and drawn by his slaves—the winds of the hurricane,” she cried frantically, fear making her pallid lips tremble. Walado’s wrinkled visage grew stern—all the pleasant lines drawn out of it; he understood more than her words told him. “Has he dared to look upon you, with a desire to possess you? Knows he not that you are mine? I am not worthy of you—except as love for you makes me worthy—” his voice dropping into tender cadence, “but he—the monarch of all cruelty—is not of our kind. His very kiss is death; let him find a bride in his own frozen empire—the North Pole!” He shook his clinched hand in the direction of the swift rushing shadow, which so depressed them all: “Haste! haste, men and maidens! Let us flee to our own mountain home, where we can defy the monster! Our Lilleela has just cause for fear, for none upon whom he has looked with the desire for possession ever escaped him; and it is only by speedily reaching our caverns that we may hope for safety.” They turned about, and like a flock of frightened birds they flitted away, with no more noise than would be made by the rustle of a bat’s wing, and were lost in the gloom. The moon shone out cold and pale, as though grieving over the dread desolation and lighted up the angry face of the Ice King with a pallid luster; he puffed out his gaunt cheeks menacingly; his eyes darted flame like the quick thrusts of a sword blade in deadly battle; as he saw that the Gnomes had fled he shrieked in wrath. He swayed the tall trees, and tossed their dead branches in every direction; he fiercely threw the rocks from the lofty mountain summits, and as they went crashing down, down, with thunderous noise, they splintered and tore up the ice like a silver foam, which glittered and flashed with pale prismatic glow as it caught the moon’s sad, cold ray.