But Carl was so absorbed in his foolish project of scaling the wall, and the music was so very soft, he did not heed it. Twice in his ascent he paused to listen to what he imagined to be lovely strains of music. This was when the Nix, on peeping around the curve made by the hill, saw that the boy had already started on his perilous journey, and played louder to call him back. But Carl concluded he was mistaken, and that the melodious sound was the wind rustling among the vines. When the Nix heard the plunge into the water she supposed that all was over; and, standing her harp against a rock, she leaned her head upon her hand, and thought sorrowfully of the bright boy who had come to such a sudden end through his own folly. But Carl was not dead. The force with which he struck the water sent him far down into its depths, and rendered him unconscious. So that when he rose to the surface again he lay on the water without motion, and, apparently, without life. In this condition he floated to the spot where the Nix was standing. For a moment she gazed at him sorrowfully, and then her face suddenly brightened. For she saw that the boy was still living, though he was insensible to everything around him. Quickly she seized her harp, and played the liveliest, merriest music that the fairies know. The notes seemed to be dancing, and jumping, and rolling and tumbling over each other in great glee, and yet it was true music, and perfect harmony. So penetrating and so stirring was it that it reached Carl’s benumbed senses. He opened his eyes, and seeing a beautiful lady in white robes, holding a golden harp, and playing this lovely music, no wonder he thought he was in heaven. [Illustration: THE NIX GRIEVING FOR CARL.] This delusion lasted but a moment, however, for he soon felt himself sinking again into the cold water. But he was able now to make an effort to save himself, and he grasped tightly the long reed stems that lay near him. This prevented his sinking far into the water, and the Nix left her harp, and gliding swiftly into the river, supported Carl so that his head and arms were out of the water, and he could make some attempt to swim. And, in this way, the Nix helped him to the bank. He was so weak from fright, and the long time he had been in the water, that he could not even speak to the Nix to thank her for saving his life. He could only look his gratitude as he lay panting on the grass. But as soon as he revived a little and had uttered the first word to the lady she faded from his sight, and he only saw a wreath of white mist gliding over the reeds. Carl sprang up in astonishment. The waves parted as if some one had gently sunk into them, and he thought that he saw, for a moment a gleam of bright hair. Not till then did he know that the beautiful lady, who had preserved him, was a Nix.