"And what then?" asked Gerald soberly. "You must go away. Bellaria would be very angry if she knew that my fairy prince had come." "Am I the fairy prince?" asked Haskins softly. Mavis raised her brows with a trill of heavenly laughter. "Of course you are, since you came over the wall. I have been watching here for months to see you arrive. You would not have come had you not got my message." "No," acknowledged Haskins sensibly; "that is very certain. No one would look for a fairy princess in this tangle of woods. But," he hesitated and smiled, "you are not sleeping." "Yes, I am! Not with my eyes closed, of course; but I am sleeping through life. All my days I have lived in this dull old place, and my guardian will not let me go out and see the world." "Who is your guardian?" asked Gerald, and received a shock. "Major Rebb!" "Good Lord! Major Rebb! Huh!" So this was the elderly relative whom the man had come to see. Haskins congratulated himself that he had not questioned the Major. Had he done so there would have been a speedy end to romance. The word "elderly" had apparently been used by Rebb to conceal the existence of this lovely girl from too inquiring youth. No young man would search for anything elderly. Haskins felt like Saul--as though he had gone to seek his father's asses and had found a kingdom. "Do you know my guardian?" asked Mavis, quickly noting his surprise. "Well, yes! I have met him in London." "Oh, London! London!" The girl clapped her hands in a childish way. "How I wish to see London. My guardian says that he will take me there some day, and then--oh, and then, and then, and then----" "What then?" "I shall live. Just fancy," she continued, swinging on the bough. "I am twenty years of age, and I have lived shut up here with Bellaria ever since I can remember. My guardian comes and sees me sometimes, and give me all kinds of presents. He is always very kind, but he will not let me leave the Pixy's House. I'm not shut up, of course," she added, contradicting herself, "the grounds are very large. There's a big garden of fruit and flowers beyond that archway, and a park of trees with undergrowth just like a fairy wood. I have heaps and heaps to do, looking after my flowers, and embroidering, and cooking, and playing games, and listening to Bellaria's stories. I am quite happy--and now," she leaned forward until her face nearly touched that of Gerald, "I am happier than ever, because you are here." "Are you?" inquired Haskins, stupidly and thickly. He did not dare to move, or to follow his impulse, lest he should alarm her. She was as trusting as a tame bird, but a chance word or a too eloquent look might teach her that fear existed. "Yes, of course I am. How silly you are. In Bellaria's stories the prince always comes to the princess, in the end. Mine would not come, so I sent that message. And now----" She stretched a hand to caress his face: "Oh my prince! my prince!"