Her legs were covered by a pair of trousers of some silky fabric, grayish blue in color. Her bare feet were incased in sandals, the golden cords of which crossed her insteps and wound about her ankles, fastening down the lower hems of the trousers. A silken, gray-blue scarf was wound about her waist; crossing in front, it passed up over her breast and shoulders, crossing again between the wings behind and descending to the waist. Her hair was a smooth, glossy black. It was parted in the middle, covered her ears, and came forward over each shoulder. The plaits were bound tightly around with silken cords; each was fastened to her body in two places, at the waist and, where the plait ended, the outside of the trouser leg just above the knee. Her skin was cream colored, smooth in texture, and with a delicate flush of red beneath the surface. Her eyes were black, her face small and oval, with a delicately pointed chin. There was nothing remarkable about her features except that they were extraordinarily beautiful. But--and this point Alan noticed at once--there was in her expression, in the delicacy of her face, a spiritual look that he had never seen in a woman before. It made him trust her; and--even then, I think--love her, too. Such was the strange girl as Alan saw her that morning standing beside the tree on the bank of the little Florida bayou. "I can't talk your language," said Alan. He realized it was a silly thing to say. But his smile answered hers, and he went forward until he was standing close beside her. She did not appear so tall now, for he towered over her, the strength and bigness of his frame making hers seem all the frailer by contrast. He held out his hand. The girl looked at it, puzzled. "Won't you shake hands?" he said; and then he realized that, too, was a silly remark. She wrinkled up her forehead in thought; then, with a sudden comprehension, she laughed--a soft little ripple of laughter--and placed her hand awkwardly in his. As he released her hand she reached hers forward and brushed it lightly against his cheek. Alan understood that was her form of greeting. Then she spread her wings and curtsied low--making as charming a picture, he thought, as he had ever seen in his life. As she straightened up her eyes laughed into his, and again she spoke a few soft words--wholly unintelligible. Then she pointed toward the sun, which was still low over the horizon, and then to the silver object lying back near the center of the island. "I know," said Alan. "Mercury." The girl repeated his last word immediately, enunciating it almost perfectly. Then she laid her hand upon her breast, saying: "Miela." "Alan," he answered, indicating himself. The girl laughed delightedly, repeating the word several times. Then she took him by the hand and made him understand that she wished to lead him back into the island.