In their rambles they went to the Nine-hills, where little Elizabeth fell asleep, and was forgotten by the rest.  At night when she awoke, she found herself under the ground among the little people.  It was not merely because she was from his own village that John was so fond of Elizabeth, but she was very beautiful, with clear blue eyes and ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile.  Time flew away unperceived.  John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth sixteen.  Their childish fondness was now become love, and the little people were pleased to see it, thinking that by means of her they might get John to renounce his power, and become their servant, for they were fond of him, and would willingly have had him to wait upon them, for the love of dominion is their vice.  They were, however, mistaken.  John had learned too much from his servant to be caught in that way.

John’s chief delight was walking about with Elizabeth, for he now knew every place so well that he could dispense with the attendance of his servant.  In these rambles he was always gay and lively, but his companion was frequently sad and melancholy, thinking on the land above, where men live, and where the sun, moon, and stars shine.  Now it happened in one of their walks, as they talked of their love, and it was after midnight, they passed under the place where the tops of the glass hills used to open and let the underground people in and out.  As they went along, they heard of a sudden the crowing of several cocks above.  At this sound, which she had not heard for several years, Elizabeth felt her heart so affected that she could contain herself no longer, but throwing her arms about John’s neck, she bathed his cheek with her tears.  At length she said—­

“Dearest John, everything down here is very beautiful, and the little people are kind and do nothing to injure me, but still I have been always uneasy, nor ever felt any pleasure till I began to love you; and yet that is not pure pleasure, for this is not a right way of living, such as is fit for human beings.  Every night I dream of my father and mother, and of our churchyard where the people stand so pious at the church door waiting for my father, and I could weep tears of blood that I cannot go into the church with them and worship God as a human being should, for this is no Christian life we lead down here, but a delusive half-heathen one.  And only think, dear John, that we can never marry, as there is no priest to join us.  Do, then, plan some way for us to leave this place, for I cannot tell you how I long to get once more to my father, and among pious Christians.”

John, too, had not been unaffected by the crowing of the cocks, and he felt what he had never felt there before, a longing after the land where the sun shines.

“Dear Elizabeth,” said he, “all you say is true, and I now feel it is a sin for Christians to stay here, and it seems to me as if our Lord said to us in that cry of the cocks, ’Come up, ye Christian children, out of those abodes of illusion and magic.  Come to the light of the stars, and act as children of the light.’  I now feel that it was a great sin for me to come down here, but I trust I shall be forgiven on account of my youth, for I was only a boy, and knew not what I did.  But now I will not stay a day longer.  They cannot keep me here.”