Cup of Gold
Henry strained his attention toward the figure. Why, it was Elizabeth coming toward him—little Elizabeth, with golden hair and a wise young look on her face. She was girdled with cornflowers, and her eyes were strangely puzzled and bright. With a little start of surprise she noticed Henry.
“I am Elizabeth,” she said. “You did not come to see me before you went away.”
“I know. I think I was afraid to talk with you. But I stood in the darkness before your window, and I whistled.”
“Did you?” She smiled at him gladly. “That was nice of you. I cannot see, though, why you should have been afraid of me—of such a little girl. It was silly of you.”
“I do not know why,” he said. “I ran away. I was motivated by a power that is slipping out of all the worlds. My memories are leaving me one by one like a colony of aged swans flying off to some lonely island in the sea to die. But you became a princess, did you not?” he questioned anxiously.
“Yes, perhaps I did. I hope I did. I, too, forget. Tell me, did you really stand there in the dark?”
Henry had noticed a peculiar thing. If he looked steadily at one of the crouched, faceless beings, it disappeared. He amused himself by staring first at one and then at another until all of them were gone.
“Did you really stand there in the dark?”
“I do not know. Perhaps I only thought I did.” He looked for Elizabeth, but she, too, had dis-
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