EVELYN WITH THE FAIRIES.
There was once a little girl who was exceedingly fond of fairy tales.She had read almost all the books that had ever been written aboutfairies and elves, and never lost an opportunity of hearing a storyupon the same subject. The result of so much attention to thisparticular branch of study was that which might have been expected. Shebecame the most devout believer in the existence of the dear littlecreatures about whom she read, and had no greater desire than that shemight some day or other become personally acquainted with one or moreof them.
Her chief regret was caused by the fact (which was, unhappily, tootrue) that no fairy godmother had presided over her birth, and thatnone of those pleasant adventures had befallen her which usually followsuch an event. Not only was this the case, but, so far as she couldascertain, neither her father, mother, or any of her relations had evercome in contact with a fairy, and she had been, little by little,driven to the conclusion that she belonged to a commonplace, unromanticfamily, with whom the dwellers in fairyland had no concern and noconnection whatever.
This was a sad thought to the child, who was possessed of an extremelylively imagination, and would have liked nothing better than to havelived in those good old days when either a fairy or a witch, an ogre ora dwarf, were to be found at every corner. She looked back to thosedays with fond delight, and often wished that they might come again.She loved to muse over the tales she had read and heard, and to imaginecurious scenes and strange creatures on every side of her, as sherambled through the shrubberies around her father's house, or strolledaway into the great woods on one side of the park.
One day she had taken a longer stroll than usual, and suddenly cameupon a part of the wood which she never remembered to have seen before.Somehow or other, she had strayed out of the path, and all around herwere tangled masses of fern, old pollard-trees bowed down to the groundby age and the weight of their branches, and thickets of thorns andbrambles, and here and there patches of smooth grass and moss, withouteither trees, fern or brambles upon them.
The birds were singing sweetly in the wood, the sun was shiningbrightly in the heavens above (although his rays could not penetratethe dense foliage of the trees), the dewdrops were glistening on theleaves, and everything seemed as beautiful as human eye could behold orhuman heart desire. The child looked around her for a moment, entrancedwith the loveliness of the scene; then she heaved a deep sigh (toodeep, you would have thought, for so young a creature, who could hardlyas yet have sorrows heavy enough to cause such a sigh), and said toherself with a sorrowful air:
"What a place this would be for my fairy godmother to meet me, if onlyI _had_ a fairy godmother! Heigho! Why are there not any fairies here?"
Scarcely had she spoken when she started back astonished, for thespeech was hardly out of her mouth than the concluding word, "fairieshere," seemed repeated by a myriad of tiny voices all round her, intones so soft, so plaintive, and dying away with such a melancholycadence that it needed no great amount of cleverness to assure thechild that they came from no ordinary or mortal throats.
For an instant she trembled, but it was more with expectation thanfear, and she looked around her with eager eyes, to the right and left,longing to see the beings who had uttered those soft and touchingsounds. She saw nothing, however, and began to fear that, after all,she would hear and see no more, and that nobody at home would believeher when she told of the mysterious voices. But, being a child ofcourage, and remembering, moreover, that in most of the fairy tales ofwhich she knew, the mortal to whom the kind fairies condescended tospeak or appear, was never frightened, but always did exactly the rightthing, unless he or she happened to be wicked, when they invariably didthe _wrong_ thing and suffered accordingly. So she looked round onceagain, and then said, in her most polite tones:
"Are there _really_ any fairies here?"
Scarcely were the words out of her mouth, when the same sounds aroseonce more, even more distinctly than before, on every side of her. Thistime, however, there was something more than sound. The fern and thetrees, the brambles and the leaves, all seemed to be suddenly agitatedas if by the wind swaying gently through them, though there was not abreath of wind in the air.
There was one universal rustling all round, and the next moment Evelyn(for that was the little girl's name) saw that she was standing in themiddle of a crowd of living, moving, active beings, who looked out uponher from every corner of the place. Every leaf seemed tenanted by oneof them; each stem of fern appeared to afford cover, every thicket togive protection to a small creature: they were perched on the treesabove her head, and peeped out from the tufts of moss almost beneathher feet. Bright restless eyes seemed to peer eagerly out upon her onall sides, and in an instant she knew that her long-cherished hopes anddreams were at last realized, and that she was in the presence ofundeniable fairies.
Although Evelyn had read so many fairy tales, and had so often fanciedherself in the position she now was, and settled what she ought to doand say in such case, it must be confessed that when the reality camethus suddenly upon her, she was as much at a loss as if she had neverread or thought anything at all about the subject.
She stood still and stared with eyes wide open with astonishment, justas any child would naturally do under similar circumstances. The littlebeings about her had nothing in their appearance or demeanour at alllikely to frighten her. They were neither ugly in feature, deformed infigure, or evil in the expression of their faces. On the contrary theywere graceful, beautiful, and looked remarkably good-natured. Verylittle they certainly were, for none of them could have been above afoot high, and very numerous also, for, turn her head which way shewould, the whole place seemed alive with them.
Evelyn stood, as I have said, perfectly silent, and looked about her asif struck dumb with surprise at the unlooked-for appearance of thelittle creatures. She had not long to wait before one of them hoppedlightly from the stem of a venerable hornbeam hard by, and stoodimmediately in front of her.
It was a charming little figure that did this: barely a foot high, butof a form perfectly symmetrical, a face bright with exceeding beauty,and with an air of nobility conspicuous in its features, and, indeed,in its whole bearing. It was dressed in some light drapery, whichfloated around it in such a manner as to add to instead of concealing,the beauty of its faultless form, and, as it stood erect before Evelyn,she thought she had never seen anything so exquisitely beautiful in thewhole course of her existence.
EVELYN AND THE FAIRIES.--P. 122]
The little being regarded her for one moment in silence, and then itspoke. Spoke! it was hardly like speaking: the voice that came from itsthroat was a mixture of all the most delightful sounds that everrejoiced the human ear. Think of the soothing, contented hum of thebees in the early summer, when they are sipping the sweetest honey fromtheir favourite flowers; think of the softest murmuring of thesea-waves when they gently break upon the shore, and lovingly kiss therocks against which, in their hours of anger, they dash so madly; thinkagain, of the blessed sound of distant church bells heard across thewater as you stand listening upon a silent summer's eve; think of thewarbling of the tender nightingale in the old shrubbery, full of homememories; and think, more than all, of the loving words whispered forthe first time in the happy ears of the gentle maiden; think, I say, ofall these sounds, and of the music they possess, and you will be ableto form some idea of the melody which sounded in the fairy's voice.
She spoke in poetry, of course, by which Evelyn was more than everconvinced that she was a regular, proper fairy, because poetry is thenatural language of such people, and no fairy, who is at all equal tothe position she aspires to hold, ever begins a conversation with amortal in prose. Of course they get to it, after a bit, because toomuch rhyme bores people, and fairies never do _that_, because thereare so many people in the world who can and do perform that feat toperfection, and fairies only care to do that which human beings cannotaccomplish so easily of themselves. And thus ran the speech of thefairy,
since such she was beyond all reasonable doubt.
"Welcome, gentle maiden child, To the forest grand and wild: Welcome to the lofty trees Gently waving in the breeze: Welcome to the leafy shade, By their spreading branches made: Welcome to the mossy bed, 'Neath their shadows overhead: Welcome to each grassy mound In the open spaces found, And to every flower that springs Near the mighty forest kings. Thou hast wandered here full oft, Never at the fairies scoft, But hast aye essayed to learn From the lovely maiden-fern, From the honeysuckle sweet, From the dew-drops 'neath thy feet, Lessons of the fairy race Not for mortal ken to trace. But to maid of gentle mind Fairy elves are ever kind; If she love them, they can prove (Giving fondly love for love) How their might can work to aid Manly youth or gentle maid. Say, then, maiden, would'st thou seek Knowledge which an elf may speak? Would'st thou (such I scarce suppose) Fairy succour 'gainst thy foes? Would'st thou have another's heart Made thine own by magic art? Would'st thou wealth--or, better still, Freedom from some mortal ill? Speak thy wish, then, maiden dear: Speak it low and speak it clear."
Evelyn listened with amazement not unmixed with pleasure. Pleasure itcertainly was to find herself at last in the presence of a real livefairy, and amazement she undoubtedly felt both at the sight before her,and at the speech to which she had just listened. She was perfectlyaware that her reply ought to be given in verse, and the difficulty wasthat she was particularly stupid at making rhymes. She was one of thosechildren who always tried to beg off if any of those amusing games wasproposed in the evenings at home, in which either everybody has to makefour rhymes or more on a certain given subject, generally answering aquestion and introducing some noun which has nothing to do with it, orelse four rhymes are given out, and everybody has to write the previouspart of the four lines in any metre they please.
Evelyn, I say, always either begged to be excused playing, or elsenestled up close to her father (who was rather handy at that kind ofthing), and asked him to write her lines quietly for her, which heunfortunately was in the habit of doing--unfortunately, because theconsequence was that at the present momentous crisis, the poor childcould not by any means think what to say. One reason, perhaps, was thatshe had nothing particular for which she wished to ask the fairies,but, whatever the reason, no rhyme _would_ come to her mind.
All she could think of was an occasional line of some of Dr. Watts'shymns, which did not seem to have anything at all to do with fairies,and one or two old pieces of poetry which she had heard long ago in theschool-room and which kept coming into her head now, and probablykeeping out something which might have answered her purpose muchbetter.
The fairy waited for a few seconds without impatience, but as no answerappeared to be forthcoming, she stamped her foot upon the ground, andappeared visibly annoyed. Conscious that she was hardly acting either awise or dignified part in remaining silent, Evelyn now made a greateffort to remember or to invent something that might be suitable to theoccasion, and as the fairy stamped her foot a second time, somewhatimpatiently, she hastily blurted out:--
"Let dogs delight to bark and bite-- I don't know how to answer right;"
and then stood blushing and trembling just as if she had certainlyanswered _wrong_. Upon this the fairy gave vent to a low, musicallaugh, like the last notes of a _very_ good musical box, and then oncemore accosted the child as follows:
"When fairies speak in kindly mood, To answer nothing back were rude; Yet need you never rack your brain To answer me in rhyme again. Though verse be sweet to us, forsooth, Prose, if it comes of simple truth, From child-like lips and guileless tongue, May pass with elves as well as song. But say, fair child, for what intent, With spirit young and innocent, Untainted with the world's cold touch; (Ah! would that we might keep thee such!) Unfettered yet by Fashion's chain, Untouched by pride or high disdain, As yet unvisited by cares Which fate for mortal life prepares, Why hast thou left the haunts of men To seek the lonely fairy glen?"
Whilst the fairy was speaking, Evelyn gathered together her ideas, andresolved to show that she not only had something to say, but knew howto say it. So as soon as the speaker had concluded, she replied,keeping still to rhyme, as if determined not to appear more stupid thanshe really was,
"How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour-- For years and years I've longed to see A fairy's woodland bower.
How skilfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads the wax-- Since, now, dear elves, I've seen you well, My spirit nothing lacks."
As soon as Evelyn had got through these verses, which she did with somelittle pride, she was rather surprised and even annoyed to find thattheir only effect was to cause all the little beings around her toindulge in a hearty fit of laughter. Their musical sounds rang throughthe forest, and the echo faintly returned them, whilst the child stoodlistening and wondering at the result of her attempt. Then the fairyqueen, for such Evelyn thought she must be, spoke once again:--
"If nothing lack'st thou, mortal child, Why wander through the forest wild And seek, with meditative air, The beings who inhabit there? Since hither thou hast found thy way, Be satisfied awhile to stay: For those who have not been afraid To trespass on the fairy glade, And long, with curious mortal eye, Our elfin mysteries to spy, When once they know where fairies hide, Most there be ready to abide."
As Evelyn heard these words, a cold chill ran through her veins, forthey betokened to her that something was going to happen upon which shehad never calculated. In an instant her thoughts flew back to the manyinstances of which she had read in fairy tales, of children beingchanged into dogs, cats, birds, toads, or something which no sensiblechild has the least wish to become; and the terrible fear arose thatshe was about to become the victim of some such unpleasanttransformation. On second thoughts, however, she remembered that inmost of these cases the child concerned had either been naughty anddisagreeable at home, or disbelieving in or impertinent to the fairies,and had therefore deserved punishment. In her own case, she had donenothing recently at home more naughty than accidentally dropping somemarmalade on her clean frock at breakfast, and had entertained suchfull and constant belief and respect in and for the fairies, that shewas quite sure she deserved no punishment at their hands. Besides, thevoice of the queen (if such she was), and the looks and gestures of hercompanions, had displayed neither anger nor offence at her intrusioninto their glen, and she could not believe that any harm was intendedto her. All these thoughts passed through the child's mind much fasterthan I can write them, and although she stood there in uncertainty anddoubt, her momentary fear was gone directly. She was not prepared,however, for what followed.
The fairy queen waved a sprig of fern three times over her head,advancing nearer and nearer to Evelyn as she did so. At each wave ofthe hand, the child felt herself growing downwards and becoming smallerand smaller. Yes! there really was no doubt about it; down and down shegrew, until the horrible thought crossed her mind that she might growright down into the earth, and disappear altogether.
At the same time a strange drowsiness stole over her, everythingappeared to grow less and less distinct, and gradually to fade quiteaway from sight; sounds grew fainter and fainter, and she seemed to beabout to sink into a deep, fast, heavy sleep. Then, all of a sudden,she was as wide awake as ever again, and looked up, bright and lively,trying to remember where she was, and what had happened to her. Therewas very little doubt about _that_. She was a regular fairy like therest of them. She was of the same height; she had the same kind oflight dress (though what it was made of, she could never describe,although she was very often questioned on the subject,) and she feltsuch an extraordinary sensation of lightness and elasticity as quitesurprised her. She knew in a moment that she could move about in amanner which had been quite impossible to her as a mortal child: thatshe could stand upon
branches and plants and tufts of fern withoutcausing them to bend or break, that she could tread upon the leaves andsoft moss without leaving the impression of her tiny feet, and that shepossessed new powers, new knowledge, and a new being altogether.
But more wonderful still, was the transformation which everythingaround her seemed to have undergone. The trees, the leaves, the fern,the moss--all appeared ten times as beautiful as they were before. Thedewdrops that glistened upon the grass and fern sparkled withtwenty-fold brilliancy; the green of the leaves was by far more tenderand exquisite than before her change; the mighty trunks of the oldtrees were more majestic than ever, the whole glen was enriched withgreater beauties, and the notes of the woodland birds possessed moremelody than she had ever fancied in her old, childish wanderingsthrough the forest.
It was as if all these beauties had been but imperfectly seen, and onlyfeebly appreciated by the child of mortals, whose natural perceptionshad been blunted by the sin and sorrow of her kind; but, that themoment the earthly nature and form had been shaken off, a purer andmore intellectual state of being had brought with it the power to see,to know, and to appreciate in a higher degree the beauties of natureand of nature's God. Never had Evelyn experienced such a delicioussensation of entire pleasure as at that moment.
Curiously enough, no recollections of home, of parents, of relations,came across her; all seemed blotted out for the moment as if they hadnever existed. She only felt the intense pleasure of her presentexistence--a pleasure so pure and at the same time so utterly absorbingand engrossing that it seemed to leave room for no other thought orsensation, and the child stood as one in a trance--but a tranceexquisitely delightful!
Presently the fairy queen turned aside, apparently about to occupyherself with other matters, and having no more to say to Evelyn. Thelatter, however, was not neglected. Two of the other fairies took her,each by one hand, and led her under the great spreading trees, beneathwhose branches was a wide open space, where there was room enough forhundreds of such small creatures to sport and play. There they began todance, lightly and gracefully, first joining hand in hand, thenseparating and dancing the most curious figures you can imagine, in andout of the hollow of the tree under which they were, round its trunkand its roots, and now and then catching hold of the lower branches andswinging themselves up. Such a dance it was! And the most extraordinarything was that it all seemed to come quite as natural to Evelyn as ifshe had been at it all her life. She danced and skipped and swung inthe branches with the best of them, and had not the slightest feelingof fatigue after the exertion. She felt, moreover, a lightness andbuoyancy of spirit such as she had never felt before, and as to beingshy or bashful in the presence of strangers, she experienced no suchsensation for a single moment. On the contrary, she laughed and talkedwith the little elves as happily and merrily as if she had known themfrom her cradle, and there was no difficulty about learning theirlanguage, for they all spoke English as well as any English child couldhave done. Perhaps they _were_ English children, which would in somemeasure account for it. However that may be, Evelyn never had acheerier or more enjoyable dance than this one, and she thoroughlyentered into it.
Presently they took to climbing. Up the trees they swarmed, ran out onthe branches, and balanced themselves on the ends (roaring withlaughter when one or other of them lost his balance and had a fall,which he always broke by cleverly catching hold of the next branchbelow), pelted each other with leaves, and chased one another wildlythrough the tops of the trees. Then they played at hide-and-seek in andaround the trees. One hid in a rabbit-hole under the roots, another ina crevice on the top of one of the hornbeam pollards, and great was thelaughter when one little scamp crept into an old magpie's nest, and layhidden there for several minutes before he was found. But perhaps thebest fun of all was when they chased a squirrel, who was thoroughlypuzzled by the proceeding, and caused them immense merriment by hischattering, as well as by his various dodges to elude his pursuers.Sometimes he would climb to the very tops of the highest trees, andappear astonished beyond measure when the little elves followed him sohigh; then, again, he would throw himself off, and catch a branch infalling, as quickly and as cleverly as if he had been himself a fairy.Once more he would lie pressed up so close against the thick branch ofa tree, that he would appear to be a part of the tree himself; and thenhe would betake himself to his nest, and occasionally peer out withhis sparkling little eyes, as if to ascertain whether anyone would bedaring enough to follow him _there_. But the fairies never attempted tohurt him, and Evelyn soon found that these woodland fairies were not ofa sort which at all enjoyed making other people unhappy. _She_ wascertainly anything but unhappy, and enjoyed her afternoon amazingly.Nevertheless, as all things come to an end, so at last did these fairygambols.
Suddenly there sounded through the forest a low, sweet, but thrillingwhistle, like an unusually melodious railway whistle heard at a longdistance off in a still evening. Every elf knew it at once to be thequeen's signal, and accordingly they all hurried back to the spot whereEvelyn had first seen them, from which they had been wandering rightand left through the merry green wood in their sports. The queengraciously smiled as her obedient children flocked around her, andproceeded to give them her directions for the employment of theirevening.
"Sprightly," said she, addressing one little fellow, whom Evelyn hadobserved to be particularly lively in the dancing and other games, "goyou, with a couple more of your friends, to old Farmer Grubbins. He wasvery cross this morning to two poor boys who picked a couple of applesfrom one of his trees which overhung the footpath, and is going to takethem before the magistrates to-morrow morning. He goes to bed early andwill be asleep before nine. But you need not wait for _that_, for he issure to doze heavily in his arm-chair after supper. Go and plague himwell. Pinch his toe till he thinks it is gout; whisper to him that therats are in his barn, and that a man with a lucifer matchbox has beenseen in his rick-yard. And if _that_ neither keeps him from sleep norgives him uncomfortable dreams, tell him that wheat is down in themarket ten shillings a quarter, American beef is coming into thiscountry in such quantities, that homefed beef will never sell wellagain, and all his rates and taxes are going to be doubled directly.Give him a real bad night of it, and when he is lying awake, thoroughlyuncomfortable, whisper to him a few words in favour of the poor lads inany way you think most likely to be useful.
"Mirthful, do you go off to poor old Mrs. Marshall at NettlebushCottage. She is down with the rheumatism, very bad, and in a good dealof pain. Cheer the old dame up a bit, whisper all kinds of pleasantthings in her ear, gently rub her poor aching limbs, and keep the dustquiet so that her room may be kept cheerful and clean. Sweeten thetaste of what food she has, and do what you can to lighten the time toher.
"Flittermouse, Childerkin, Gadaway, go to Doctor Backbrusher's school,and comfort the hearts of the youngsters there. The old fellow hasflogged a lot of them as usual to-day. Go and cheer them up; and if you_could_ put a few crumbs--good, hard, sleep-stopping crumbs--into thedoctor's bed, so much the better. Do it just when he has put his candleout, and is going to step into bed, and one of you take away the box ofmatches he always has by his bedside, and hide it in his brown pitcher.He'll never find it there, and if he is once well in bed with thosecrumbs, he'll have a rough time of it.
"You, Pitiful and Hoverer, go to little Miss Wilson's room at ThePriory, and teach her to remember her French verbs. Poor child! theyare sadly too much for her, and it would be a real kindness to get ridof the grammar for her, only they would be sure to get another; so thebetter way will be to help her to remember.
"The rest of you go where you like; sleep or play, visit mortals, orremain unseen by them, only do nothing unkind to anyone, and be sure tobe back here precisely at midnight for the ring dance."
As soon as the fairy queen had finished speaking, the little elves towhom she had given special directions set off without any delay to obeyher orders, while the rest scattered themselves in every directionthro
ugh the forest, each following the pursuit which seemed best tohim.
As Evelyn felt herself not only at liberty to go where she pleased, butable to keep up with any of her companions and to go where they wentand do as they did, she thought she should very much like to see howSprightly performed the commission entrusted to him, and as the elfmade no objection, off they tripped together, accompanied by anotherlittle being whose name I forget, but who was as lively and merry asthe rest of them. They went at a pace at which our young friend Evelynhad never gone before, but which somehow or other seemed quite naturalto her, and which very speedily brought them to the house of FarmerGrubbins.
Arrived there, they walked quietly up to the door, which opened to themwithout any of the people inside knowing that it had done so, althoughthe fact of its having opened was proved to Evelyn not only by herpassing through with the others, but by the remark which she heard theold farmer make as she and her companions entered, namely, that therewas a terrible draught from that door.
The farmer was an old bachelor, and there was no one in the house withhim but his niece and the servants. He and his niece were justfinishing supper when the fairies entered, and on seeing this Sprightlywinked knowingly at his companions, and they all stood quietly asideuntil the old man should be asleep and their duties would begin.
They had not long to wait. Farmer Grubbins pushed back his chair with aremark to his niece upon the supper, to the effect that the beefsteakpie had been uncommon good, to which she readily assented. The old manthen settled himself in his own particular arm-chair by the fireside,drew a long breath, and quietly composed himself to sleep. In a veryfew moments, after a contented snort or two, much after the fashion ofa grampus which found itself more than commonly comfortable, he quietlydozed off and was immediately in the land of dreams.
Then Evelyn's companions crept stealthily up to him and began theirgames. One climbed up on to the old man's shoulder, whilst the otherseated himself upon the footstool upon which his feet rested, wellencased in large and easy slippers. The first began to whisper in hisear, while the second tickled his feet with a lightness of touch whichno one but a fairy could have done. Presently the sleeper suddenlytwitched his foot, whereupon the elf waited until it was still again;and then resumed his tickling. Then the farmer moaned in his sleep, anduneasily turned his head upon one side, at which movement the other elfbegan to whisper more vigorously than ever. A snort, a start, and thesleeper awoke.
"Eh, Jane? Did you speak?" he asked his niece, who replied in a lowvoice that she had said nothing, and almost before she had answered,his head fell back again and once more he dozed. Still the tickling andthe whispering continued, and the sleep of the old farmer appeared tobe most uncomfortable.
Evelyn watched in great amusement, until at last she saw Sprightly, whohad taken his place at the footstool, take out what appeared to be apair of pincers, and, applying them to the great toe of the farmer'sright foot, give it a nip with all his force. The old man instantlywoke up with a roar.
"Oh, my toe!" he called out in evident pain. "Drat that gout, I've gotit again!" and he began to groan sadly.
His niece got up, put her knitting down upon the table and came acrossthe room to him, but after another groan or two, the pain seemed tosubside, and he dozed off again. Presently he started once more andturned in his chair.
"Rats in the barn, did you say, Jane?" he muttered rather than said;"can't be--don't bother--keep quiet, there's a good girl," and all wassilent again for a few moments, until Sprightly, again producing thepincers and applying them to the same toe, pressed them with both handsas hard as ever he could. The roar which now burst from the farmer'slips really frightened Evelyn, who fancied for the moment that he_must_ discover that some hand, mortal or elfin, had inflicted theinjury upon him.
Not a bit of it: the elves were certainly invisible, and the old manattributed everything to the gout, and vowed it was the worst pain hehad ever had in the whole course of his life.
Meanwhile the two elves were laughing ready to split their sides, and,somehow or other, Evelyn felt very much inclined to do the same. It wasno laughing matter, however, for Farmer Grubbins. He rose from hischair, not in the best of tempers, nor using the choicest language, anddeclared that he should go to bed and try if a good night would putmatters right with him.
As he spoke, the two elves roared again with laughter, and made themost extraordinary grimaces at the old man, which seemed to Evelyn allthe more ridiculous from the knowledge that he could not see and wasperfectly unconscious of them.
Then he slowly ascended the stairs, upon which Sprightly and hiscompanion beckoned to Evelyn, and they all followed the farmer,treading very lightly, and still laughing as he muttered expressions byno means complimentary to the gout.
When he reached his bedroom he speedily undressed and turned into bed,having first carefully placed upon his head an old red night-cap, inwhich he presented an appearance so ludicrous as greatly to increasethe amusement of his unseen guests. His niece just looked in, and askedif he wanted anything, and being told that she need not trouble herselfabout him, quickly took the hint, and retired for the night.
Then began the real fun of the little fairies. As soon as the old manhad made himself comfortable, and a drowsy comfortable feeling began tosteal over him, they were at him again. First one of them tickled hisnostrils with a feather until he was obliged to rub his nose violently,which woke him up at the critical moment when he was just about to gooff into a quiet sleep. Then the same thing happened to his right ear;then it was his left, and then his nostrils again. Then they left himalone for a few moments until he was really just asleep, when Sprightlysaid in his ear, quite close, and in a voice that was almost above awhisper,
"That man has lighted the match--close to the stacks in the rick-yard.Fire!"
The old man started up as if he had been shot.
"Fire!" he cried out; "what the dickens was that? Who said fire?"
He sat up in his bed and listened, and then he grumbled to himselfabout the folly of eating dumplings for supper after beefsteak-pudding,and how it always made one dream such nonsense, and then back he sankupon his pillow, grumbling still until he gradually dropped off again.Then, softly uncovering his feet, the cruel Sprightly, before thissleep had lasted more than a minute, gave him a sharp and severe nip onthe same toe as before, and again the unhappy man woke with a yell, orrather bellow, of pain, and said bitter words against that gout towhich he firmly believed himself to be the victim. The pain kept himawake some minutes, but at last he dozed off again, and then came moretickling and whispering, so that he could by no possibility get anyreal or prolonged repose.
At last there was a long and careful whisper on the part of Sprightly'scompanion, during which the farmer did not indeed awake but turned overagain and again, first on one side and then on the other, muttering tohimself meanwhile:
"Wheat down again! Ruin--ruin--ruin! Markets awful bad;" and presentlyagain he groaned out in his sleep, "Drat them Yankees and their beef!"all of which remarks, distinctly heard by Evelyn as she stood on achair by the bedside, told her plainly enough that the little elveswere fulfilling the commands of their queen with great and preciseexactness. Still the old man dozed and woke, and woke and dozed, andever and anon turned uneasily in his bed, as if passing a decidedlyuncomfortable time of it, until at last, after another tremendous nipfrom Sprightly's pincers, he quite woke up and groaned audibly.
At that moment, to her great surprise (for there seemed no possibilityof his thinking it a dream _then_) Sprightly and his companion seatedthemselves one on each side of the old man's head, and began to wavetheir hands gently over his eyes. He appeared to see nothing, and to bequite ignorant of what they were doing, or indeed that there was anyone there, and presently he closed his eyes, though he did not breatheheavily, or snore, or give any palpable sign of being asleep.
Both the little elves now began to whisper eagerly in his ears, andEvelyn quite plainly heard the words, "poor b
oys!" "only a couple ofapples," "honest parents," "no such great offence after all," andvarious other expressions calculated to appease the wrath of the oldfarmer against the culprits of whom the fairy queen had spoken. The oldman soon began to mutter again, and from what he said it was evident toEvelyn that the words of the whisperers were not without their effect.Presently he seemed to be quite awake.
"Curious that I should dream about them lads," he said. "I hope thepoor chaps haven't had such a bad night as I seem in for. Maybe theydidn't know they was doing so wrong. I've took apples myself, beforenow, when I hadn't ought to have done so. I don't know as I'll goagainst them after all! Dash me if I will, either!"
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the faces of both theelves lighted up with the brightness of conscious triumph; they knewthat their queen's commands had been obeyed, and her desireaccomplished, and they lost no time in their next proceeding.Abandoning at once their previous endeavours at whispering, tickling,and tormenting, they made sundry passes over the old man's face, whichhad the effect of immediately plunging him into a profound sleep. Twicehe snored heavily, but this time it was not the snore of restlessnessor disgust, but the contented sound of a peaceful and happy sleeper.
At this moment the three-quarters past eleven sounded on the chimes ofthe neighbouring church clock. The little elves instantly started up,whispered to Evelyn that the queen would be shortly expecting them, andbeckoning the little girl to follow them, crept quietly and stealthilyfrom the farmer's bedroom, descended the stairs, and passing throughthe front door in the same manner by which they had entered it, hastilysped back to the forest.
In the glade they found the queen, standing among a group of elves whowere positively convulsed with merriment. They were listening to theaccount which Flittermouse, Childerkin, and Gadaway were giving of thevisit to Dr. Backbrusher, which they had lately paid, and from whichthey had but just returned, and they seemed to have given the worthydoctor rather a rough time of it, having bothered him with hard crumbsin his bed until he had lost all patience, and bounced out of bed for alight, in searching for which he had tumbled into his bath, and beenmade thoroughly uncomfortable for the night.
Whether this proceeding on the part of the elves was calculated to makethe doctor more tender of his pupils' feelings was a question whichEvelyn found herself unable to solve, but she hoped for the best whenshe heard the fairy queen, after expressing her entire approval of whathad been done, publicly declare her intention of persevering, andgiving orders that Dr. Backbrusher should be persistently andthoroughly plagued every night until he had been brought to a kinderand more satisfactory frame of mind.
When the fairies had laughed enough at the account of theschoolmaster's disasters, the queen asked the others to relate how theyhad fulfilled their several missions, and expressed herself very wellsatisfied with the manner in which her wishes with regard to FarmerGrubbins had been carried out. Nor was she less pleased with theconduct of the elves who had been sent upon errands of a moreemphatically benevolent nature.
Tears stood in Evelyn's eyes as she heard little Mirthful relate thegratitude of the poor old woman whom she had been sent to comfort. Tobe sure, she had not exactly known whom to thank, having seen no one,but for all that she had shown a thankful disposition, and such acheerful determination to look at the bright side of a life that seemeddark enough, poor thing! and to make the best of everything, come whatmight, that Evelyn felt quite touched at the narrative. She feltsincere sympathy, too, for and with little Miss Wilson, whom Pitifuland Hoverer had vastly assisted with her French verbs. They told of allher trouble in learning, and how, by their secret help, she hadsuddenly found herself able to remember, and had been quite astonishedat finding that she could learn with such unusual and unexpected ease.She had not the least idea, they said, that she was being helped byfairies, and of course it was the best thing in the world for her to bethus deceived, because having once overcome her difficulties, as shethought, by her own patience and determination, she would always infuture employ the same weapons, and that with an additional confidencewhich would go far to insure success.
From all these accounts Evelyn learned that which she had always hopedand believed to be true, namely, that it is the pleasure of goodfairies--such as those who principally inhabit forest glades andmountain wilds--to help and comfort mortals who require it, andespecially such mortals as love to help and comfort others, and havetender feeling hearts within their breasts. She could not but feel,moreover, that those mortals whom the elves delighted to plague andtorment were generally, if not always, people who richly deserved it,and who were not over-scrupulous about hurting the feelings of theirfellow-mortals.
Thus it appeared to Evelyn that the elfin race performed most usefulfunctions, and were deserving to the utmost of the affection andrespect which she had ever bestowed upon them.
While these thoughts passed through the child's mind, the messengerelves had all finished their accounts of their doings, and the queennow waved her hand solemnly, upon which they parted right and left, andshe remained standing alone. Then she spoke thus:
"Midnight hour has struck again, One more day is with the slain: One more morn will soon be here, Heralded by chanticleer. While as yet 'tis sacred night, Practise we the mystic rite:-- Hand-in-hand join, light and free, All beneath the woodland tree; Softly o'er the leafy bed In fantastic measure tread, Soon to mortal eyes to bring Traces of the fairy ring."
When she had thus spoken, the queen stepped forward, and taking thehand of another elf in each of her own, paused one moment until all theothers had followed her example, and then began the dance. Theycompletely encircled one of the large oaks, and for some time dancedround and round it with great solemnity, singing sweetly as they didso. Evelyn found herself irresistibly compelled to join both in thedance and song, but it was ever after a matter of regret to her thatshe could not recollect the words of the latter, which she rememberedto have been full of beauty and most melodious.
After a time they separated, and, gaily dancing upon one side, came outinto an open space where was luxuriant grass, a perfect carpet ofdaisies and buttercups being beneath their feet. Here the class formedthemselves once more into a circle, and danced round and round as ifthey were never going to stop. Again they sang, words as pleasant andmusic as sweet as before, but again Evelyn found herself entirelyunable to recollect the air or the words afterwards.
At last, whilst they were still dancing, a faint, very faint streak oflight began to glimmer in the sky, and to lessen the darkness of thenight. Soon after, even as they danced, the note of a robin broke upontheir ears: the earliest songster of the wood, waking up at the firstdawn of light, and carolling forth his morning hymn before setting outto search for his breakfast.
Scarcely had the sound been heard when the fairy queen let fall thehand of her companion elf, and waved her own in the air. Every one ofher attendants immediately and exactly followed her example, and Evelynnaturally did the same as the rest. Then they turned without anotherword or sound, and scampered away as fast as they could go into thethickest part of their favourite glade. Evelyn unhesitatingly went withthem, having in fact nothing else to do, and she followed the exampleof her companions by crouching underneath the fern at the foot of oneof the trees which grew around the glade, and hiding herself as well asshe could from the gaze of any possible passer-by.
All this time, in everything that she did, there seemed to be nothingat all strange, or out of the common way. She felt just as if she hadbeen a fairy all her life, and took everything just as it came with themost perfect unconcern. She thought not of her parents, her home or thepursuits which had daily occupied her whilst she was an ordinary mortalchild. All these had passed away from her mind altogether. There wasonly an intense feeling of present happiness and light-heartedness, andnot only no wish to return to her former state, but an entireforgetfulness that she had ever been anything else than that which shenow felt herself to be--a
subject of the Fairy Queen, and a woodlandfairy herself to all intents and purposes.
It has often been disputed, by those learned in the history of elvesand Elf-land, whether the little creatures ever sleep, or whether, likespirits, they seek and require no rest, but wander over the world atwill without sense of fatigue.
Evelyn's experience may furnish an answer to the curious inquirer uponthis point. She slept; and slept soundly, and always explained thematter in a perfectly intelligible manner. It is not, she said, thatfairies are ever really tired: there are different degrees and variouskinds of fairies, possessing greater or less power in relation to theearth and to mortal affairs, in accordance with their own rank andposition in the great fairy family. But there is no fairy, except someof the very inferior description, who cannot perform almost any givenfeat of strength if required to do so; and no fairy, properly socalled, was ever actually tired in the sense that mortal beings feelfatigue.
But that fairies sleep is absolutely certain, and there are two reasonsfor their doing so. In the first place, their power is much greater bynight than by day, and many of them have the greatest objection to thesunlight, though to some few it is little less pleasant than to humanbeings. This being the case, they find it on all accounts desirable toseek shelter from the rays of the sun during the day, and do not seethe use, when doing this, of keeping their eyes open when it is morecomfortable to close them. And their other reason is also extremelysensible, namely, that they have an opinion that it is monotonous andtedious to be always running about, sporting, playing, or interferingwith the business of mankind, and that by taking some few hours' restin every twenty-four hours, they come again with greater zest to theirordinary pursuits, and enjoy themselves a great deal more than theywould do if they never left off.
This was always Evelyn's theory, and having been, as we know, a fairyherself, I have no reason to doubt that it is the correct one. Be thisas it may, it is quite certain that, upon the occasion in question,both Evelyn and her companions slept sweetly and quietly, couched underthe grass and plants beneath the fern, and sheltered from the rays andwarmth of the sun by the overhanging branches of the great foresttrees.
But yet the sleep of fairies is not such but that they awake, readilyand easily enough, if it is necessary that they should be stirring. Tobelieve Evelyn, the voice of a man, or even the passing footstep of ananimal pushing its way through the brushwood, was always quite enoughto arouse the whole elfin world into activity; and, at the first soundof the kind, a score or two of little elfin heads might be seen peeringout from their secret hiding-places, eagerly gazing on every side todiscover who or what might be the intruder.
No one appeared to disturb this first fairy sleep of our littleheroine, and she slumbered calmly on with her new companions. Slowlythe sun rose over the forest, tinging the leaves with his golden rays,and warming all creation into life as he lighted up the world with hisglorious lamp. Then the sounds in the forest became more and morefrequent. From every thicket birds carolled forth their joyous songs;the wood-pigeon softly cooed to her mate in the fir-trees; the jackdawcackled in the old pollard as he looked out from the hole in which hisnest was built; the jay screamed in his harsh, discordant notes, tryingto put the blackbirds and thrushes out of tune, and failing signally;the woodpecker began to tap merrily, trying the trees all round till hefound one that suited his beak; the squirrels climbed to the top of thehighest trees to see what sort of a morning it was, and the stillsilence of the forest was gradually changed into moving life andbustling sound.
Men went out to their daily toil in field and street, in country andcity, busy brains schemed and plotted, and the work of the world wenton as it had done the day before, and would do the next day again. Andthere, beneath the green fern of the forest, the little fairies sleptpeaceably on, and the mortal child that had donned the fairy form slepton with them, little recking of the busy world, with all its cares andwoes, its sin and sorrow, its toilings and strife, which lay beyond andoutside the forest, and could not disturb or break that sweet sleep.
But it has probably struck some of my readers that Evelyn's absencemust, before this time, have caused some disturbance at her home. Soindeed it was. She had gone out very soon after luncheon, and whentea-time came, Mrs. Trimmer, her governess, began to wonder where shewas, and why she had not come back. Perhaps you will think that Mrs.Trimmer ought to have begun to wonder rather before, but really I donot think she was much to blame. She had very kindly started offdirectly after luncheon to carry some sago-pudding to a sick woman inthe village; and as Evelyn's mamma had asked her to do this, and knewshe had gone, she naturally supposed that Evelyn would be with hermamma, or would at least be somewhere with the latter's knowledge andpermission. Moreover, since the young lady was now twelve years old,and both a sensible and trustworthy child, Mrs. Trimmer would in nocase have had any fears for her safety, especially in that peaceful andquiet part of the country in which they lived. But when the good ladybustled in just before tea-time, ran up and took off her things, andthen hurried down to make the tea, lo and behold there was no Evelyn.So she rang the bell for Betsy, the school-room maid, and asked whetherMiss Evelyn was with her mamma; and on the girl coming back to say shewas not, Mrs. Trimmer began to get rather uneasy, and presently went tothe boudoir and asked for herself. Evelyn's mamma knew nothing morethan that the child had gone out to stroll in the shrubberies afterluncheon, since which time she had seen nothing of her, and had fanciedshe was in the school-room.
Beginning to get alarmed, she went to the study in which Evelyn'sfather was writing his letters for the late post. When he heard whatwas the matter, he went into the shrubberies and called his daughter'sname loudly, but of course with no result. Then he sent a footman downto enquire at the keeper's house by the forest, and another to thestables to order horses to be saddled for himself, the coachman, andthe two grooms, and off they set to scour the country in everydirection, and make every possible inquiry concerning the lost child.
The poor mother remained at home in terrible anxiety, fearing she knewnot what, but dreading the worst, according to the usual custom ofmothers under such circumstances.
It was quite ten o'clock before the horsemen returned, but of coursethey brought no tidings whatever of the missing young lady, who was,about that time, as we know, amusing herself with Sprightly at thehouse of Farmer Grubbins, and thinking nothing at all of what was goingon at home.
The poor father was much distressed, for he was devoted to his littledaughter, and the uncertainty about her fate made the affliction stillmore hard to bear. He could not imagine what had become of her, andtherefore knew not what steps to take for her recovery. He would haveall the ponds dragged next day, but there were very few in theneighbourhood, and none into which a girl of twelve was likely to havefallen.
At one time there used to be a number of gipsies who frequented thatneighbourhood, and the half frantic mother suggested that some of thesewild people might have stolen her daughter. Her husband, however,discouraged the idea, since no gipsies had been seen or heard of forsome time past; nor would they have been at all likely to steal a girlof Evelyn's age. Had any accident befallen her, or even if the unlikelysupposition that she had been stolen, hurt, or killed, had beencorrect, it seemed almost impossible but that some trace must have beenleft--some portion of clothing, some signs of a struggle, somesuspicious strangers seen about the place. But no: there was absolutelynothing of the kind, and no clue whatever to account for her mysteriousdeparture.
It never once entered her parents' heads that their daughter could havewillingly left her home: she was always so bright, happy, andaffectionate; so devoted to the place and to the dear ones who made itso pleasant for her. The thought that her absence was voluntary wasbanished, if it occurred at all to any of the family, before expressionwas given to it; although its rejection of course made the sorrow stillheavier, since if she had been taken away by violence, or lost her lifeby some accident, the calamity would really be greater than
if she hadwilfully played the truant.
The only two things left to be done, were attended to next day; namely,the county police were informed of the matter, and advertisements wereinserted in the local papers. In both cases the usual results followed.The police arrested two persons who had clearly nothing to do with thematter, and who consequently had to be compensated; and many weeksafter the occurrence the same authorities declared that they had knownall along that no crime had been committed, and that the child would berestored to her parents in due time. Still less followed from thenewspaper advertisements; the papers being but little read in thecountry districts where Evelyn lived, and having no circulation amongthe fairies.
So the next day passed over in darkness and sorrow for the sufferingparents, who feared that they had lost for ever the child who had beenso lately the light and comfort of their home.
There were two beings, however, who felt the loss of Evelyn little lessthan the father and mother; and these were her brother Philip and hisblack terrier Pincher.
Philip was only two years older than Evelyn--in fact, not quite somuch, and they were great companions whenever he was at home for hisholidays. Whenever he had work to do, to settle down to which he felt(as boys sometimes will) disinclined, it was Evelyn who encouraged himto face it boldly, and who helped him in any way she could; and if shewas in any trouble about French verbs or German exercises, as willsometimes happen even to the best disposed young ladies, it was toPhilip she always flew for sympathy and consolation. And as there wasgood fellowship between them in their work, so they loved to playtogether whenever they could, and many a time had Evelyn joined herbrother in a game of cricket, or rambled with him in his birds-nestingexpeditions through the woods.
Sometimes these rambles had extended far into the forest where theadventures which I have been relating had befallen Evelyn; and duringthese wanderings she had often talked to her brother upon her favouritesubject, and told him strange legends of fairies and goblins, at whichhe had always laughed heartily.
He had no great belief in such things himself, he used to say. Perhapshis head was too full of Latin or Greek, or perhaps he had not turnedhis attention sufficiently to fairy-land stories; but anyhow, helistened to his sister without being convinced by what she said, andshe had more than once been rather vexed at his want of faith.
Now it so happened that Philip came home for his summer holidays thevery day after his sister's disappearance. Great was his consternation,as you may suppose, at finding what had happened, and no less was hissorrow at the loss of his favourite companion.
He arrived in the morning, and was so overcome by the news that he wasonly able to gulp down two plates full of cold beef, some apple tartand custard, a little bread and cheese, and a couple of glasses ofbeer, at the family luncheon.
After this he went out on the lawn, and thought deeply over thebusiness; but without being able to arrive at any satisfactoryconclusion.
Whilst he stood and thought, Pincher came running up to him, and beganto jump upon him with great manifestations of delight. Philip caressedhim, and as he did so, remarked to himself half aloud:
"Pincher, old boy, why should not you and I have a ramble in the wood?"
As he spoke, the thought came into his heart that there was someoneelse besides Pincher with whom he used to ramble, and a sigh brokeinvoluntarily from him as he remembered that he had no other companionnow than his faithful dog.
He took a stick in his hand, sauntered over the lawn, through thelittle gate at the end of the meadow, and into the big wood away amongthe trees, where he and Evelyn had so often roamed together.
He strolled lazily along, and happened, strangely enough, to take thevery same line which his sister had taken the day before.
Presently Pincher started a rabbit, and, according to the invariablepractice of terriers, rushed after it as fast as he could; whilst therabbit, also following the custom of its race, fled before him at thetop of its speed, taking the direction straight as a line towards thefairy glade.
Philip gave a shout, and dashed after his dog without hesitation,although he had no expectation either that he would come up withPincher, or Pincher with the rabbit. But before he had gone many yards,he knew, by unfailing evidence, that the chase had come to an end.Pincher had stopped, probably at the hole into which the rabbit hadmade its escape, and was no longer yelping as he had continually doneduring the pursuit, but, as the boy thought most likely, scratchingfuriously at the hole. Philip pushed his way forward as well as hecould, and called to his dog, who presently responded by a bark, thesound of which enabled his master to discover where he was. It was nearthe roots of a large tree, surrounded by fern and brushwood; andPincher was running round and round this tree, and then darting offinto the fern, and as quickly coming back again, as if something hadpuzzled him completely and he was anxious to have it set right as soonas possible.
The boy stood still for a moment, looked first one way and thenanother, but could see nothing. Of course the truth was that thefairies were there, and Pincher knew it, but had no means of lettinghis master know, for he did not happen to understand English or French,and even in Dog Latin would have made but a poor hand in conversingwith human beings. But animals, as is well known, can often see fairiesand such creatures when they are invisible to human eye; and I supposethat Pincher very likely had not only discovered the elves, but hadbeen surprised and utterly disconcerted by perceiving that his master'ssister, his own little friend and kind mistress, was amongst them.
I do not say for certain that he discovered this; but dogs of theterrier kind, especially when well-bred as Pincher was, are very keenscented, and could probably smell out their master or mistress even ifdisguised ten times over as a goblin or fairy. So as the dog chanced tohave stumbled upon the very spot where the fairies were all sleeping,it is only natural to suppose from his behaviour that he not only sawthe little creatures, but recognised Evelyn.
The fairies, for their part, were nearly as much disconcerted as thedog, for they had expected no visitor, and had not intended to wake upand move for two or three hours more at least. They knew that neitherdog nor boy could hurt them, of course; but still they were hastilyroused from their sleep, and I dare say that their movements, runningto and fro to hide themselves wherever they could, considerably addedto the confusion of the dog.
Philip of course saw nothing at all, for it is a very unusualcircumstance for fairies to allow themselves to be seen by any one whohas not implicit faith in their existence and power. So he calledPincher to come away, and would presently have quitted the gladealtogether without ever knowing how close he had been to his lostsister. But, for the first and only time in his life, Pincher seemedinclined to disobey his master. He ran round the tree again, whined,sat up on his hind quarters, chattering his teeth and half howling, asif he saw a polecat or stoat or squirrel in the top branches of the oldpollard, and waited to be put up the tree so as to have a chance ofgetting at it.
Philip thought that this must certainly be the case, and, changing hismind about leaving the place, turned round and again approached thetree. As he did so, to his intense astonishment he heard a voice behindhim, which certainly, and beyond all doubt, called him by his name. Heturned sharply round, and to his great surprise could see no one atall. At the same time a voice again called him from the other side, andwith precisely the same result. This went on for several moments. Hisname seemed to be called at intervals from every side, and wherever heturned, the voice or voices were always behind him. Profoundly puzzled,and rather vexed by this extraordinary incident, the boy was at a lossto know what to do, and at last exclaimed:
"By Jingo, this is a queer thing!"
Hardly had he uttered these words, when a chorus of laughter burst uponhis astonished ears; and to his unutterable astonishment he heard anumber of voices singing, to a tune he well knew, the following words:
"We don't want to hide; but by Jingo, if we do, We've got the fern--we've got the trees--
We've got the brambles too."
And again loud laughter ran through the forest, whilst Pincher dancedround the old pollard more frantically than ever.
Philip stood rooted to the ground with surprise, when a sound, somewhatdifferent from the rest, attracted his attention; and looking round heperceived a large white owl attentively regarding him with her eyeswide open. As soon as she saw that he was aware of her presence, theowl gravely bowed her head three times, and then began to speak in avoice so exactly like that of a human being, that you would not haveknown the difference, unless you had actually seen her in her feathers,and been assured by the evidence of your own eyesight that she was averitable bird. And these were the words that fell upon the ears of herastonished listener:--
"In every glade of forest lone, Some mystic word of might is known, Which, once pronounced, to mortals' eyes Gives sight they have not otherwise; Gives mortal ears a hearing new Of things much disbelieved--yet true; And suffers mortal hand to trace The circle of the magic space. Boy! list--thou hast obtained this aid. "By Jingo"--motto of our glade-- Converts all here to friends from foes, And bids all secrets to disclose. Break branch from tree where thou dost stand, 'Twill serve thee for a magic wand; Around thee then a circle trace Within this same enchanted place; Then wish a wish, and speak the word-- 'Tis granted ere thy voice be heard; And thou shall rule like any king Within the sacred Fairy Ring."
Philip listened with great attention to the observations of the owl,which appeared to him to be exceedingly clear and distinct, althoughthe circumstances under which they were made were singular, and thequarter from which they came unexpected. He felt, however, that he was"in for the thing," as he afterwards expressed it, and that he hadbetter comply with the directions of the worthy bird. He thereforestretched out his hand and broke off a branch from the nearest tree,which happened to be hazel. He then sharpened the end of the branch,and drew with it a circle, in the midst of which he remained standing.
Now, of course, the correct and proper thing for the boy to have donewould have been to have immediately pronounced the magic words; wishedfor his sister back at the same moment; for her then to have appearedand thrown herself into his arms, and for the story to have thus endedin a comfortable, good, old-fashioned way, which would have beeneminently satisfactory to all parties concerned. Why should not I makethis happen? Well, I really would if I could, but you must rememberthat all these stories are as true as the histories of "Don Quixote,""Baron Munchausen," "Gulliver's Travels," and all those otherhistories, upon the veracious nature of which no sensible person hasever entertained a doubt. So you will see at once that I cannot, as afair and true historian, invent anything, even for the purpose ofpleasing my beloved readers, but must go on perforce and relate thefacts as they really occurred.
Philip was doubtless very fond of his sister, and if it had been put tohim by anyone at the moment that the above course was that which heought to pursue, I am sure that he would have done so without theslightest hesitation. But as nobody _did_ tell him, and the owl(probably because it was not her business to do so) made no suchsuggestion, I regret to say that, for the instant, Philip followedanother line of thought, and when he again pronounced the mystic words,"By Jingo," he wished--not that his sister might instantly appear,but--that he might understand what was the nature of the strange placein which he seemed to be, and the meaning of all that had occurred. Youwill see at once that this was rather a different thing from wishingfor his sister; and the reason of his not doing so probably was that,in the hurry and surprise of the whole affair, he did not connect itwith her disappearance. So, as I say, he wished that he might be ableto understand the mysteries of the place.
As soon as ever he had formed this wish, the fairies of course becamevisible to the boy. They came out on all sides, just as they had comewhen they had disclosed themselves to Evelyn. They peered from strangecorners and holes, they darted quickly from spot to spot, and abandonedaltogether the rest and sleep from which the coming of the boy haddisturbed them.
Soon, however, their proceedings acquired greater regularity. I supposeit was in consequence of his standing in the magic ring, or perhaps itmight have been by the mere virtue of the mystic words which he hadpronounced; but for some reason or other the fairies had no power overhim as they had had over his sister. More than this, they seemed tohave been constrained by some one of those mysterious rules whichobtain in Fairy-land to pay him some kind of respect and homage.
They linked hand in hand, and whilst Philip looked on in the greatestastonishment, they formed in a circle round the space in which hestood, and danced merrily round him for at least a couple of minutes.Then they stopped, and whilst all the rest fell back into the fern andbrushwood behind, the queen remained, and after a short pause,addressed the boy as follows:--
"Possessor of the magic words Which here control both fays and birds: What would'st thou in this glade to-day, That we can give thee--if we may?"
Now Philip was not much of a hand at rhyming: to tell the truth, hedisliked all poetry particularly, from Dr. Watts' hymns up to the Latinverses he had to do at school. For an instant he doubted whether, inspite of this, he was not bound to make some reply in rhyme, as well ashe could manage it, having been addressed in this manner by the ladybefore him. However, on second thoughts, it appeared to him thatprobably this was needless, as he had accidentally acquired a positionwhich was evidently one of authority. Therefore he replied in the wayordinarily employed among mortals, that is, in prose; and, having nowremembered the main object of his expedition into the wood, he thusreplied:--
"Madam, I want my sister Evelyn. I cannot tell whether or no you canhelp me in the matter, but my sister has disappeared and I am lookingfor her everywhere."
The fairy bowed with grave courtesy when Philip had spoken thus, andthen answered him at once,--
"Those who invade our magic bower, And hold--and speak--the words of power, Have their first wish--and thou hast prayed To know the nature of the glade. If thou had'st wished thy sister free, It had not been denied to thee; And she no longer might have been The subject of the Fairy Queen. But we small children of the moon Are bound to grant no second boon; And if thou would'st regain the lost, Thou now wilt have to count the cost! Reseek thine home--for one whole day No single word to mortal say: And by no sign or look or sigh Permit them to discover _why_! For that same time be only fed With crystal water and with bread, Then, at the rising of the moon, Come here and ask the second boon!"
She spoke; and, even as she ended, her little form appeared to growfainter and less perceptible to Philip's eyes, and at last faded awayaltogether. He stood at first amazed, and then wrapped in deep thought.It was evident, from what the fairy had said, that she not only knewwhat had become of Evelyn, but had the power to restore her.
It seemed a very wonderful thing, but he could not disbelieve theevidence of his own senses, which had assured him of the presence offairies; and if they could be present, as he had seen and heard them,they might certainly possess power of which he had previously had noidea. There was no doubt in his mind that, if he could only carry outthe directions which the Fairy Queen had given, he would stand a verygood chance of recovering his sister. It was true that there might besome difficulty in not speaking to anybody for a whole day, especiallyas no one would understand or guess the reason, and there would also berequired a certain amount of self-denial--especially in the case of aschoolboy just come home for the holidays--in restricting himself tothe homely diet of bread and water. However, then and there he made uphis mind to try his best, and all the more so as he could not but feelthat he had been somewhat thoughtless and negligent of Evelyn'sinterests in not having made her the subject of his first wish.
Pincher now showed as much eagerness to leave the spot as he hadpreviously evinced to keep to the tree. I forgot to mention that he hadcrept to his master's side wi
thin the magic circle just as the fairiesappeared. Probably, being a sagacious dog, he knew that if he remainedoutside it, he might be changed into a rat or a hedgehog, or somethingunpleasant, and so made sure of his safety from such a fate. Now,however, he seemed actuated by one sole desire, namely, that of leavingthe place; and, as his young master was entirely of the same opinion,they made no longer stay.
Philip walked back through the wood the same way that he had come,regained the shrubberies, walked up the lawn and re-entered the house.There he was at once encountered by his mother, who accosted him withaffectionate words, and eagerly asked him if he had heard any news ofhis sister. When the boy for reply merely placed one finger upon hismouth and said nothing, the good lady seemed, and doubtless was, ratherastonished.
"My darling boy," she said, "what is the matter? Why don't you speak?Are you hurt? Have you any pain anywhere?" And withal she poured uponhim such a torrent of questions that Philip did not know what to do.Still, however, he persevered in his silence, although it was very hardto do so when his mother kissed him and spoke so kindly to him all thewhile. He could hardly bear it, so broke hastily from her, and ran upto his own room, pushing almost rudely past Mrs. Trimmer, who met himon the stairs and was quite ready for a chat.
When he got to his room he threw himself into a chair, and ponderedover all the strange events of that afternoon, which seemed to himbeyond belief, only that, as they had actually taken place under hisown eyes, he could not help believing them. Whilst thus engaged, thedressing-bell rang, and the servant brought up some warm water and putout his evening clothes.
"What time shall I call you to-morrow morning, master Philip?" askedthe man, and was exceedingly surprised to find that the young gentlemanmade no reply whatever. He repeated the question with the same result,and then, supposing that Philip must have some unknown reason for hisconduct, left the room without further remark.
The boy proceeded to dress and, at the proper time, descended to thedrawing-room, where his father and mother already were. They were bothin a melancholy frame of mind, as may well be supposed, for no tidingshad been heard of their daughter, and they could not but fear that shewas lost to them for ever. Philip walked stealthily into the room, inthe direst perplexity how he should be able to avoid speaking.
"Well, my dear boy," began his mother directly, "have you found yourtongue yet?"
The boy made no reply, upon which his father joined in.
"Philip, my boy, why do not you answer your mother?"
Still no word came from Philip, and his father, who was accustomed tobe treated with respect and obedience, grew angry at his continuedsilence.
"Why don't you speak, boy?" he asked again. "Your mother and I are introuble enough to-day without your adding to it by any childish follyof this kind. I should have thought you would have felt the same as wedo."
Still the poor boy spoke not a word, which made his father still moreangry.
"Have you got no tongue in your head, sir?" he cried, and laid his handupon Philip's shoulder somewhat roughly.
But the mother here interposed.
"Don't scold him, James," she said. "Don't be cross with theboy--remember he is the only child we have left now," and she burstinto tears.
In soothing her the husband forgot the boy, or perhaps found it moreconvenient to say nothing further at the moment. They went into dinner,and were astonished to see Philip shake his head when the servantsoffered him soup, fish, and roast veal (of which he was particularlyfond) and content himself with eating his bread and drinking a glass ofwater. They began to think that their son must be ill; but it was invain that they questioned him. He only put his finger over his mouthand resolutely declined to speak. Then his father expressed his fearthat something or other must have frightened or hurt him in such amanner as to have affected his brain, and, at length, he determined tosend for the doctor, who lived about three miles off, in the nearesttown. Still Philip remained silent, and the strangeness of theoccurrence was so far useful to his parents as that it, in somemeasure, turned the current of their thoughts from the great sorrow inwhich they had previously been absorbed.
As soon as the doctor came he performed the usual mysteries of hisprofession. He looked at Philip's tongue and said it was not unhealthy.He felt his pulse and declared there was no fever, and he finallypronounced that his indisposition--for such he termed it--though Philipwas never better in his life, proceeded from some temporarydisarrangement of the nervous system, which he had no doubt of beingable to treat with success. He prescribed two pills to be taken atnight, and a draught (the colour of which was the only pleasant thingabout it) in the morning, and left the patient with a promise to returnnext day. During the whole of his visit, however, not one syllable didhe get out of Philip, which, as he prided himself upon hisconversational powers, and the successful manner in which he always goton, especially with young people, rather annoyed him.
When Doctor Pillgiver had gone, the parents, somewhat relieved by hisreport, strove again to persuade their son to resume his natural habitsof conversation, for Philip was a boy neither sullen nor shy, but onethat generally talked freely, and had plenty to say for himself. As,however, he entirely declined to say anything, his father at last gotangry, and, telling him that he feared he was giving way to anobstinacy which, unless conquered, would prove his ruin, sent himupstairs to bed.
Poor Philip was really rejoiced at this, for he was not likely to haveany mortal to speak to before morning. But his tender mother, unhappyat the thought that her boy might be ill, and thinking that he mightrepent of his silence after he had left her and his father, came to hisbedside to see him the last thing before she herself retired. This washard to bear, for to refuse the last kiss and "good-night" to one'smother is difficult indeed. Philip felt this, but he also felt thateverything probably depended upon his obeying the conditions of thefairy queen, so the rogue pretended to be asleep, and said nothing,even when the dear mother softly kissed his forehead and invoked ablessing upon her beloved son.
All that night the boy could scarcely sleep for thinking over theextraordinary things that had happened. He tossed uneasily to and fro,then got up and drank some water, then laid down in one particularposition, and determined to remain just so until he _did_ get tosleep--then changed his mind and turned quite round to try anotherposition, and altogether managed to have such a restless anduncomfortable night as seldom falls to the share of a boy of his ageand good health.
At last morning came, and Thomas, the footman, called him as usual,wondering again that his young master never wished him "good morning,"or asked him if it was a fine day, as he almost always did. Philipdressed and came down to prayers and breakfast, according to hisfather's rule, or otherwise he would have slipped out of the house andkept away all day, until the time of his silence should be past. It wasa great trial to him that morning, for his parents were both evidentlyvexed with him, and could not understand the meaning of his silence.
His father spoke so sharply to him that the tears came into his eyes,but his mother again interceded for him, and as soon as breakfast wasover he stole away to take refuge in the garden.
Here again he had difficulties to encounter, for the gardener came toask him some question about the rolling of the cricket-ground, aboutwhich Philip was always very anxious, and it was exceedingly tiresomenot to be able to answer him, especially as this was the head gardener,and anyone who has ever had anything to do with such people, knows thatthey are personages of dignity and position, with whom it is never safeto trifle. So the boy knew that he ran no small chance of having hiscricket-ground altogether neglected if he offended Mr. Collyflower, andwould not have run the risk on any account, had not the recovery of hissister been of paramount importance.
Next he sauntered into the park, where the gamekeeper presentlyappeared to take his wishes as to a hawk's nest which he had found, andthe eggs of which he thought he could get, if so be that Master Philipwould fancy to have them.
It seemed both
uncivil and ungrateful to give no answer, but he feltthe whole weight of his responsibility and said never a word. But hisworst trial was yet to come.
Flora Malcolm, a young lady who lived near, and of whom Philip wasparticularly fond, rode over to luncheon that day, and wanted him toride part of the way back with her. She was astonished at his silenceand at his diet at luncheon, and rallied him considerably upon both.Yet the boy held his tongue.
Most fortunately for him, his father had again gone off to renew hissearch after the lost girl, for had he been at luncheon, I think itmore than probable that he would have resorted to some of thosepaternal remedies for filial disobedience which would have renderedpoor Philip extremely uncomfortable, even if it had not ended in hisdisobeying the injunction of the fairy queen, and so losing Evelyn forever.
Flora's raillery was hard to bear, but after a while she ceased, andbeing a clever girl, took it into her head that there might be a reasonfor his silence which she could not understand. For be it observed thatthere is no more certain sign of cleverness than when a person is ableto feel and realise that there may be some things above and beyond hisor her comprehension. For the generality of people think they canunderstand anything and everything, and that what they cannotcomprehend is sure to be absurd, unreasonable, and foolish, whereas inall probability these are the epithets which should in reality beapplied to themselves.
Flora took a different view, and being goodnatured moreover, left offteasing Philip when she perceived that it was no joke with him, butthat there was something serious as well as singular in his proceeding.She had to ride back alone, poor girl, for Philip shook his head whenshe suggested that he should join her, and of course she could say nomore. She did not stay long after luncheon, finding the distress inwhich the family were plunged, and as soon as she was gone, the boyagain betook himself to the garden, and got through the afternoonwithout a word.
He looked forward with the greatest horror to dinner time--a feelingwhich had hitherto been as strange to him as to any other schoolboy. Soit was now, however, for he knew he should have a terrible ordeal to gothrough. His father, having returned from another unsuccessful ride,would not only feel angry, but hurt, if his son made no inquiries as towhether any news had been heard of his sister. If again, he saw him forthe second night remaining silent and refusing everything to eat anddrink save bread and water, his patience would most likely beexhausted, and he might act in a manner the consequences of which mightbe unpleasant.
Suppose his anger should take the form of sending Philip to his ownroom immediately after dinner, and thus preventing his being in theforest at the time appointed by the fairy queen!
This was a thought which gave the boy so much uneasiness, that he atlast made up his mind that, as the risk was too serious to run, he hadbetter shirk dinner altogether. So when the dressing-bell rang athalf-past seven (for his parents always dined at eight), instead ofgoing in to dress, Philip slipped quietly out of the shrubberies, withPincher by his side, and made the best of his way to the forest. Themoon would not rise that night till past nine, and of course he wouldbe missed before that; but he thought they would very likely not sendfor him, or if they did, no one would be likely to find him.
He marched into the forest full of hope, feeling sure that he hadobeyed the fairy's directions in every particular, and that unless shehad grossly deceived him, he should soon see his dear sister once more.
On he went, as he thought, exactly in the same direction in which hehad gone the day before. The air was mild and pleasant--a gentle breezerustled in the leaves overhead--the birds had hushed their singing, andNature seemed to be about taking her rest preparatory to a new day oflife and action.
The turf was soft and springy under the boy's feet, the trees castaround him their strange and fantastic shadows, the distant bells fellfaintly on his ears, and more faintly still as he went further into theforest, and all seemed so peaceful and rest-bringing that he thought itwas no wonder that hermits and such like worthy people should generallychoose some woodland recess in which to dwell when they have had enoughof the outside world, and want to find rest and peace and happiness inthe oblivion of worldly strife which such a solitude would engender.
But when Philip, thinking these thoughts and a great many others, nodoubt, besides, had walked some distance, it struck him that he mustsomehow or other have missed his way, for he seemed to be in quite adifferent part of the forest from that in which he had met with hisyesterday's adventure. It was getting darker and darker, as far as hecould see, and he began to be afraid that he might after all miss theplace and never find his sister again.
Under these circumstances he did not think it of much use to gowandering on and on, uncertain whether he was going right or wrong, andtherefore sat down upon the gigantic roots of a large oak, and theretook time to consider what he had better do next. It must now have beengetting on for nine o'clock, and presently a soft, tender light beganto steal down through the overhanging branches, and illuminate theforest with a silvery tinge. The moon was evidently beginning to asserther dominion over the night, and to tell the darkness that it could notpossibly be allowed to have it all its own way.
This, then, was the hour of which the Fairy Queen had spoken, when shetold him to come at the rising of the moon and make his second request.
Yes! beyond all doubt this was the hour; but where the Fairy glade was,was quite a different question.
Everything seemed to be quiet and still in the forest, which was goingon in its natural way, as if it had never had a fairy in its shades,and did not want one either.
Philip rose to his feet and listened attentively. Nothing was to beheard but the distant hoot of an owl.
The moon grew brighter and brighter, and very beautiful did the trunksof the old trees appear in her silvery light, seeming to assume quaintand curious shapes, as the boy gazed earnestly around him, in the hopeof seeing or hearing something which might direct his next proceeding.
For some time he gazed in vain, and then, remembering that he was notforbidden to speak save to a mortal, that Pincher was probably notconsidered a mortal in the sense in which the word had been used, andthat if he was, the command to silence had ceased with the rising ofthe moon, he addressed his dog in the following words:--
"Pincher, old boy, I wish you would find the glade for me. After makingme hold my tongue so long, and eat nothing but bread and water, itwould be a thundering shame if the fairy sold me after all!"
Pincher, on being thus accosted, looked up in his master's face, whinedgently, wagged his tail, and seemed inclined to run off, as if for ahunt on his own account.
But at that moment the rustling of wings was heard, accompanied by arumbling sound inside the oak under which Philip had been sitting, andan instant afterwards he was startled by the sudden appearance of awhite owl, very similar to that which he had seen and heard in thefairy glade. She bustled out of the hollow of the tree in just such ahurry as you might fancy her to have been in if she had oversleptherself and found she should very likely be late for the train, and, assoon as she got well out, she perched upon a branch for a moment, shookher head once or twice as if to be quite satisfied that she was awake,and then pronouncing in a low tone the word "Follow," flew slowly off.
Philip did not hesitate for a moment to obey the bird's directions, ashe had found it answer so well to do so before. He followed as fast ashe could, though of course, being but a boy, he could not keep up witha bird, and would soon have lost sight of her if the distance had beenlong. Instead of this, however, it was fortunately short, and beforethe boy had gone above a hundred yards at the most, he found himselfonce more at the entrance of the fairy glade.
He knew pretty well what to do this time. He advanced to what appearedto be an eligible spot, pronounced the magic words with great emphasis,and then, breaking off a branch from a neighbouring tree as before,drew the mystic circle round himself and the dog, and then stoodquietly waiting to see and hear what would happen next.
/> He had hardly completed the circle when the same thing happened as onthe previous day: the same chorus of voices all broke out in the sametune, only with words slightly different--they sang
"We don't want to drink--but by Jingo if we do, We've got the wine--we've got the rain-- We've got the ev'ning dew,"
and then came peals of laughter from every side.
As these words rang in his ears, the boy wished as hard as he possiblycould that his sister might be suffered to come back with him safe andsound, and no sooner had he formed the wish than there she stood underthe old pollard, looking very much as usual, and rubbing her eyes as ifshe had just been suddenly awakened from a very comfortable sleep, anddidn't half like it.
Philip's first impulse was to rush up to her at once, but hefortunately remembered that he was not in an ordinary place ordischarging ordinary duties. On the contrary, he had a tremendousresponsibility upon his shoulders, and if he should make any mistake itwas impossible to foresee the consequences either to his sister orhimself. He therefore stood perfectly still and said in clear anddistinct tones,--
"Evelyn, I want you."
The child scarcely appeared to see him when bespoke--then she seemed tomake an effort to move forward, but stopped as if something preventedher, and the next moment the whole troop of little beings came dartingout from every corner of the glade and stood between her and herbrother. Then, as they had done on the previous occasion, they joinedhands and danced round and round the circle in which Philip stood,although their dance was slower and less merry than before.
This went on for several minutes, and then they stopped, and fell backon all sides into the fern and brushwood, whilst the little queenremained. She stood perfectly still for a full minute, casting a lookupon Evelyn in which pleasure and sorrow were curiously blended, andseemingly unwilling to break the silence which prevailed. Then sheturned her head round and looked upon Philip, who stood there, full ofanxiety as to what would be the upshot of the whole affair, anddoubtful whether he ought himself to speak or not. Then she said,--
"Once again, alas! we've heard Magic sound of mighty word; Which, tho' we would fain delay, Elfins dare not disobey. Since the maid has joined our ranks, Shared our dance, and played our pranks (Wonder not at what I tell), We have learnt to love her well. Greater grief has none e'er proved Than to love--and lose the loved; And if she would still remain, Gladly we'd the maid detain. Still--when magic word is said, Magic word of mystic dread, 'Tis not as the Fairies please, Save the Maiden's will agrees. Say, dear child, sweet artless maid, Dost thou love the woodland shade? Would'st thou in the forest dwell, Ever haunt the Fairy dell, Ever leave thy former self, And remain a woodland elf? Wish--and thou hast power to be Thing as wild, from earth as free, As the Elf who speaks to thee! Wish it _not_!--then count the cost-- To the Fairies thou art lost, Never more in forest wild Shalt thou act the elfin child; Never, free from mortal care, Flit on elf-wings through the air: Scorning bolt, or bar, or lock, Till the crowing of the cock Summon back thy mates and thee To moss-couches 'neath the tree. Form thy wish, then, maiden dear, None shall dare to interfere!"
As the fairy queen spoke, Philip listened with great attention, withsome concern, and no little indignation. Her voice was very sweet andpleasant; the picture she drew of the forest life of an elf was by nomeans disagreeable, and as he gathered from her words that Evelyn hadalready tasted of its delights, he was apprehensive of the effect whichthis temptation still to share it might possibly have. He felt,moreover, that as he had honestly fulfilled his part of the bargain, itwould be palpably unfair if he got nothing by it, except the knowledgethat his sister was a fairy, which would be but a very smallconsolation to the people at home. So he thought he had better strikein and tell his opinion at once, which he did in the following way:--
"I say!" he cried, "this is not fair. I was to come here to-night andhave my second boon--and I have said what it is. It will be no end of ashame if you don't give me back my sister. In fact, you promised ityesterday; and no fellow can stand being made to hold his tongue andeat nothing but bread and water for the best part of a day and a half,and then be sold after all. Come! I say! this won't do at all, youknow!"
The fairy listened to him with great politeness, and at once replied tohis remarks,--
"I bade thee come by light of moon If thou would'st crave a second boon. I bade thee come: and thou art here, A faithful brother, void of fear; And thou hast kept conditions two, Such as had been observed by few. Yet--ere you blame my words, good youth, Be moderate, and hear the truth. When maids or youths o'er fairy lore Attentively are wont to pore, Their hearts 'twould mightily surprise To see how oft our elfin eyes See, and rejoice to see, them read Of many a magic Fairy deed. And when such youth or maiden list To say that Fairies do exist, We love them passing well, forsooth, Because that they believe the truth. So, when beneath our woodland shade There wanders tender youth or maid, On certain spot--at certain hours-- Our might avails to make them ours. And when, resisting not herself, A Maiden once becomes an elf, Dares from her mortal form t' escape, And roam the world in Elfin shape, Unless it be by her free will, She must remain an Elfin still. 'Tis true: the words of power have might To force us into mortal sight, And, tho' in elfin garment drest, A mortal maid must stand confest To eyes of him who once has known And said these words--to him alone. Thy sister, then, thine eyes have seen, But I, thy sister's Fairy queen, Have right to counsel and persuade Her--who is half a woodland maid-- And should she wish it, she must stay Beneath my loving Fairy sway. If so--kind youth, oh! ne'er repine, Or envy this success of mine; _Her_ fate for ever light and free From mortal grief, will happy be, For mortal sin and human woe, Thenceforward she shall never know!"
As the fairy queen spoke these words, many thoughts passed rapidlythrough the mind of the boy. He saw at once that the victory was notyet so entirely won as he had supposed, and that people could notchange to and fro between mortal and fairy form as quickly as theypleased. Of course he had not known his sister's fate until the fairyqueen uttered these rhymes, and even now he was left somewhat in thedark. Besides, as you will recollect, the excellent elfin had not toldhim the exact truth after all, because she led him distinctly to inferthat Evelyn had become one of the elves by her own consent and freewill, whereas we know perfectly well that she had no intention ofbecoming anything of the kind, and that as to "resisting not herself,"she had no idea that resistance would do any good, and if she hadthought so, would not have known in what way to resist, when the fernleaf was waved over her head, and she began to be sensible of the magiccharm which came over her.
It is quite true that she had taken kindly to the life of an elf, butit was certainly hardly fair to let her brother suppose she had becomeone by choice. This, however, was not a point upon which he was at alltroubled. For one instant he doubted whether, if she were really sohappy, it would be doing her a real kindness to take her away from thefairies. But it was only for an instant. He felt sure that she must beunder some charm which prevented her declaring her own sentiments, andtherefore he did not at once put the question to her.
But he remembered to have read in various books concerning elves andfairies, that though they are a very interesting part of creation, theyare in some respects inferior to mankind, and that they are a kind ofbeing existing entirely and for ever in their present condition, withno soul and with no such future as that for which Christian men andwomen hope. Therefore, according to this view, his sister's conditionwould be materially changed for the worse if she remained an elf, andit was his duty, if possible, to prevent it. Moreover, his father andmother had some claim to be considered; and he could not help thinkingthat if Evelyn was a free agent and could say what she thought, felt,and wished, she would not only promptly recognise
that claim, but wouldlong to rejoin the parents of whom she was so devotedly fond. Hethought, perhaps, also of the mutual affection which had so longexisted between his sister and himself; but I will do him the justiceto say that I do not think he would have wished her back if he had beensatisfied that it would be best for her own happiness that she shouldstay where she was.
All these thoughts flashed through Philip's mind during the fairy'sspeech, and by the time it was ended he had quite made up his mind whatto do. He looked firmly--though not unkindly--at the little lady, andthen, turning to his sister, he said in a loud, clear, steady voice,--
"Evelyn, I wish you to come to me and we will go home together."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a long, low wailing soundarose on all sides of him, as if the little beings of the glade werebemoaning an affliction which they saw preparing for them and had nopower to prevent. It hung in the air for a few seconds, and then diedaway in mournful cadence among the trees.
Meanwhile the effect of Philip's words upon his sister were immediateand wonderful. She threw back her head, rubbed her eyes again, lookedfirst to the right and then to the left, and then stepped straightforward for a couple of yards, and stopped, just as if somebody wastrying to hold her back. I suppose that she was too big to be held backby the little elves, since she had resumed her old mortal form at thefirst summons of her brother; but I also suppose from this circumstancethat they tried to keep her, and she always said afterwards, that softmusical voices were in her ears, telling her of the joys of fairy-landand the happiness of the little elves, and begging her not to leavetheir merry party who had loved her so well.
Philip, observing her apparent hesitation, deemed it quite necessary totake forthwith another and a more decided step. Elevating his voice alittle, and speaking in a very firm tone, he said:
"Come along, Evelyn dear, pray do not dawdle any longer. I wish youwould come directly. By jingo, we shall hardly be in time for tea!"
The words were scarcely spoken, when the same mournful sound arose,even more piteous than before, and rang through the evening stillnesswith a melancholy cadence which might have melted the hardest heart, somuch did it convey of real sorrow. But at the same moment all attemptsto retain Evelyn ceased--her natural look, colour, and manner seemedsuddenly to have returned, and she bounded into the magic circle, andran into her brother's arms.
"Oh, Philip dear!" she cried. "Where _have_ you been? I haven't seenyou for _such_ a time! How nice it is to have you at home again!"
The brother returned her affectionate caresses, and reminding her ofthe lateness of the hour, said that they must return home at once. Hepurposely forebore to say anything of what had recently occurred, notknowing what the consequences might be, either to his sister orhimself, and putting his arm tenderly round her waist, began to leavethe glade, calling Pincher to follow him. They had not moved many yardsforward, however, before low strains of sweet music were heard behindthem, and turning round, they saw the form of the fairy queen, who wasgazing after them with a look of mingled tenderness and regret. Shegracefully waved her hand to them as they retreated, and in her ownsweet voice thus addressed them:
"Farewell! ye mortal children twain, Perchance we ne'er may meet again; Yet, should we ever chance to meet, My elves the twain will kindly greet. And ye, in prose or minstrel lays, When ye shall read of woodland fays, Have friendly feeling for the elves Who love you as they love themselves. No more amid our glade to roam-- The brother leads his sister home. From Fairy-land the twain depart, To gladden soon a mother's heart, And make a saddened home, to-night, Once more enraptured with delight. True brother! thou hast brought thine aid To rob us of our captured maid; Yet wast thou right, and for the same 'Tis not for fairy lips to blame. And thou, sweet Eve, who thus has left Thy elf companions all bereft, Since thou with us no more wilt dwell, We wish thee, lovingly, farewell."
Then the fairy stepped lightly and gracefully back, still waving herhand; the music grew fainter and fainter, and ere long both the soundand the fairy form melted away from the sight and hearing of thebrother and sister, though the last lingering word, Farewell, once andagain repeated, still seemed to fall softly on their ears as they leftthe glade.
They hastened home as fast as they could, and you may imagine theexcitement with which their arrival was greeted. Evelyn and her motherdevoured each other with kisses, and the father had such share of themas was left for him. Philip was at once restored to favour, and notonly was his former silence forgiven, but every amends was made to him,in the way of diet, for his fasting upon the previous day.
Mrs. Trimmer was so rejoiced at the happy conclusion of the adventure,that she did not scold Evelyn for a month, in consequence of which herprogress in French and German was visibly slower than for some timepast.
Everybody in the house was glad to get the child back, and the onlyprovoking part of it was that, even after her extraordinary adventures,disbelief in fairies still existed even in that well-informedhousehold. One gave one explanation of Evelyn's absence, and oneanother; one laid it to the gipsies, another said she had run away andhid in a hollow tree, but nobody seemed to be entirely satisfied withthe plain, unvarnished truth as I have told it to you.
But so it is in this wicked world. Invent a perfectly untrue story, butmake it seem a little probable, and everybody will believe you, and notthrow the slightest doubt upon your veracity. On the other hand, let anextraordinary thing really happen, and if it falls to your lot to tellit, you are generally considered a "story-teller" in the worst sense ofthe word.
This makes me so cross sometimes, that I think I will give up writingabout fairies altogether, and only write about grave and serioussubjects. But if I do that, I am afraid that nobody except members ofparliament and diplomatists, politicians and teetotalers, and all thosesilly sort of people, will read what I write, and so I think I will goon for a little while longer in my old style.
_I_ know that elves and fairies exist, and if all the rest of the worldbelieves differently, it does not cause me the slightest inconvenience;_they_ can go their way, and I can go mine; and if they don't see anyfairies, it is probably their own fault, as it is, I am sure, their ownloss.
I have no more to tell you of Philip and Evelyn now, except that theyboth grew up and prospered, and that Evelyn often tells _her_ littlegirls the story of her adventure with the fairies; and if anyone whoreads this story would like to know more particulars, she is sogood-natured that I am quite sure she will tell them all about it ifthey will only take the trouble to ask her when she does not happen tobe particularly engaged.
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