{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25453/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25453","id":"gutenberg_25453","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25453","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Fairies -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Emmy and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was made using scans of public domain works in the\nInternational Children's Digital Library.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _The Fairy Violet's introduction to the Fire-King._]\n\n\n\n\n  HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET\n     LOST AND WON\n      HER WINGS.\n\nBY MARIANNE L. B. KER.\n\n_Author of \"Eva's Victory,\" \"Sybil Grey,\" &c._\n\nILLUSTRATED BY J. A. MARTIN.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n          LONDON:\n          GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.\n\n          1872.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE FAIRY VIOLET\n\nLOST AND WON HER WINGS.\n\n\nThe Fairy Violet lived in the heart of a beautiful forest, where,\nthrough the glad spring months, the sun shone softly, and the bright\nflowers bloomed, and now and then the gentle rain fell in silver drops\nthat made every green thing on which they rested fresher and more\nbeautiful still. At the foot of a stately oak nestled a clump of\nviolets, and it was there the wee fairy made her home. She wore a robe\nof deep violet, and her wings, which were of the most delicate gauze,\nglistened like dew-drops in the sun. All day long she was busy at work\ntending her flowers, bathing them in the fresh morning dew, painting\nthem anew with her delicate fairy brush, or loosening the clay when it\npressed too heavily upon their fragile roots; and at night she joined\nthe elves in their merry dance upon the greensward. She was not alone in\nthe great forest; near her were many of her sister fairies, all old\nfriends and playmates. There was the Fairy Primrose in a gown of pale\nyellow, and Cowslip, who wore a robe of the same colour, but of a deeper\nshade. There was the graceful Bluebell, and the wild Anemone, the\ndelicate Woodsorrel, and the Yellow Kingcup. The Fairy Bluebell wore a\nrobe the colour of the sky on a calm summer's day, Anemone and\nWoodsorrel were clad in pure white, while Kingcup wore a gown of bright\namber. One day, as the Fairy Violet was resting from the noonday heat on\nthe open leaves of her favourite flower, a noisy troop of boys, just set\nfree from school, came dashing at full speed through the forest. \"Hallo!\nthere is a nest in that tree,\" cried one, and he trod ruthlessly on the\nviolets as he sprang up the trunk of the ancient oak. The Fairy Violet\nwas thrown to the ground, with a shock that left her for a time stunned\nand motionless. When she recovered, the boys were gone, and the flower\nin which she had been resting lay crushed and dying on the ground.\nFilled with tender pity at the sight, Fairy Violet hastened to tend her\nwounded charge, taking no thought for her own injuries. \"Dear Violet, be\ncomforted,\" she whispered softly, as she raised the drooping flower from\nthe ground; \"I will try to make you well.\" Then she took her fairy\ngoblet and fetched a few drops of dew from a shady place which the sun\nhad not yet reached, to revive the fainting flower, and bound up the\nbroken stem with a single thread of her golden hair. But it was all in\nvain, and the fairy, after wrapping an acorn in soft moss, and placing\nit for a pillow beneath the head of the fast fading Violet, left it to\ntry her skill on the other flowers. A faint fragrance from the dying\nflower thanked her, as she turned sadly away to pursue her labour of\nlove. It was not till she had raised and comforted all the drooping\nflowers and bound up their wounds, that the Fairy Violet thought of\nherself. Then she discovered that her delicate gossamer wings were\ngone! Evidently they had been caught on a crooked stick as she fell to\nthe ground and torn violently off, for there the remnants now hung,\nshrivelled and useless, flapping in the breeze. At this sight the\nhapless fairy threw herself by the side of the now withered Violet, and\nwept bitterly. When spring and the spring flowers were gone, and their\nwork was ended, Violet and her sister fairies had been wont to spread\ntheir wings and fly back to fairy-land, to report to the Queen what they\nhad done, and to receive from her reward or blame, according as they had\nperformed their task well or ill. Now this happy prospect was over for\npoor Violet. \"I shall never see fairy-land again!\" she murmured, and\nwept anew at the thought.\n\nThe violets whom she had tended so lovingly were very sorry for her\ngrief, and shook their heads gently in the breeze, till their fragrance\nfilled the air, and stole softly round the weeping fairy. But though\nthey comforted, they could not help her. Presently she rose, and glided\nswiftly through the tall grass, till she reached the flower where the\nblue robed fairy was resting after her day's work.\n\n\"Oh, sister Blue Bell,\" she cried, \"I have lost my wings! Where shall I\nget another pair, that I may fly back to fairy-land with you and my\nsisters when our work is done?\" Then Bluebell shook her head\nsorrowfully, till all her sweet bells chimed--\"I am sorry! I am sorry!\"\nbut she could not help her sister Violet.\n\n\"Perhaps Cowslip will know,\" she suggested.\n\nBut Cowslip bade her try what Woodsorrel would say, and Woodsorrel\nthought perhaps Kingcup might know, so Violet went about from one to\nanother, till she was ready to cry again with vexation.\n\nThen all the fairies gathered round her and tried to comfort her.\n\n\"Let us ask the owl that sits in the hollow oak,\" said the gentle\nAnenome, gliding to Violet's side; \"he must be very wise, for he never\nsmiles, and seldom speaks more than three words at a time.\"\n\nSo that night, when the moon lit her silver lamp in the sky, instead of\ndancing, as was their wont, with the elves upon the greensward, they all\nrepaired to the hollow oak to seek an audience of the owl. They had to\nrepeat their errand two or three times before he understood it, for the\nowl was as slow of understanding as he was of speech, and then, having\nnodded his head solemnly for five minutes, and winked and blinked for\nquite ten, he said solemnly:--\n\n\"Try the King of the Fire Spirits!\"\n\nAfter which he relapsed into silence, and obstinately refused to say any\nmore. Then the Fairy Violet bade farewell to all her friends, and set\nout on her journey to the King of the Fire Spirits. She had a long way\nto go, for the Fire-King held his court in the very centre of the earth,\nand she might have lost herself in the dark passages had not the\nglowworm lent her his lamp. She had saved him once when a hungry bird\nwould have carried him off in her beak, and from that time the glowworm\nhad loved the gentle fairy, and always burned brightest when she was by.\n\nThe Fairy Violet travelled very quickly, scarcely touching her feet to\nthe ground, but passing onward with a swift gliding motion that was very\nbeautiful; still it was three days and three nights before she reached\nthe kingdom of the Fire Spirits, for she had four thousand miles to go.\n\nHad she not been a fairy, she must have been scorched to death as she\nentered the Fire-King's domain, for the streets were paved with molten\niron, and flames kept bursting forth in all directions, in which she\ncould perceive strange wild figures, some leaping to and fro in mad\nfantastic glee, playing at ball with lumps of burning coal; others\nmanufacturing volcanic fire in their monstrous furnaces.\n\nThey ceased their employment when they saw Violet, and came and knelt\nbefore her in wondering admiration. She looked so beautiful as she came\nfloating towards them in her soft violet robe, with her fair hair\nrippling in golden waves to her very feet, that they thought she must be\nan angel who had strayed down from among the bright stars to their\ngloomy dwelling-place, for they had never seen a fairy before.\n\nThey were moved with compassion when they heard her sad tale, and at\nonce led her before their King, who was seated on a throne of molten\ngold, with red and yellow flames curling up and arching over him for a\ncanopy, and a crown of fire on his head. He looked rather fierce, but\nreceived Violet very graciously, and at once ordered his head blacksmith\nto make the little fairy a new pair of wings. Violet was a little\nstartled when she found that these were made of fire, and were to be\nfastened on her shoulders with bands of liquid gold, but the King\nassured her that they were the very best of their kind.\n\n\"There is nothing so powerful as fire,\" he cried, with a fierce exultant\nlaugh; waving his fiery sceptre in the burning atmosphere so wildly,\nthat though Violet thought he had been very kind to her, and bade him a\nvery grateful farewell, she was yet not at all sorry to be safely out of\nhis domains.\n\nHow fresh and green the earth looked as she emerged from the dark\ncaverns that led to the Fire-King's palace, and rested her hot feet on\nthe cool grass! But when eager to tell her friends of her success, she\nbegan to try the Fire-King's present, a general cry of dismay and terror\nbroke forth.\n\n\"Sister Violet, you are killing our flowers,\" cried the fairies,\nreproachfully.\n\n\"Oh, I am burning! I am burning!\" shrieked the grass.\n\n\"Cruel fairy! you have killed us!\" murmured the insects, as, with\nscorched wings, they fell helpless to the ground.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Violet weeping, \"I am bringing death and destruction\nwherever I go. I will fly back to fairy-land before I work more\nmischief.\"\n\nBut the birds looked down from their nests wild with terror at the\nthought.\n\n\"You will kill us if you fly up here with your burning wings,\" they\nchirped piteously. \"You will scorch us to death,\" shouted the trees,\ntossing their heads angrily in the breeze.\n\n\"Ah, gentle fairy, have pity on us!\" cooed the dove; \"did I not comfort\nyou when your pet violet died?\"\n\n\"Have I not sung to you at night when you were weary with dancing?\"\nwarbled the nightingale.\n\n\"Have we not sheltered you from the fierce heat of the sun, and the\nbeating of the pitiless rain?\" rustled the trees, indignantly.\n\n\"Heartless!\" muttered the wind, rushing rudely past her; \"to injure\nthose who love you so much.\"\n\n\"I shall never see fairy-land again!\" murmured Violet. But she had too\ngentle a heart to persist, so she sadly retraced her steps, and bade the\nFire-King take back his fatal gift.\n\nThat evening, she and her sister fairies went to the owl and told him of\nthe ill success of her mission. The owl heard her to the end with great\ngravity, and then said, severely: \"Of course! Anyone with any sense\nwould have known that wings forged by the Fire Spirits _must_ burn\neverything they touched.\"\n\nViolet would have liked to remind him that it was _he_ who bade her go\nto the King of the Fire Spirits, but he looked so very severe, as he sat\nblinking solemnly in the moonlight, that she was afraid, and only said,\nhumbly--\n\n\"Please what shall I do now?\"\n\n\"Go to the King of the Snow Spirits, of course!\" said the owl, rather\ncrossly, for he wanted to go to sleep; \"if fire is too hot, you had\nbetter try snow.\"\n\n\"Alas! what shall I do?\" said Violet, very sadly. \"The Snow-King lives\nfar off by the North Pole, and I have no wings to bear me to him over\nthe seas.\"\n\nThen a gentle fluttering was heard in the trees, and a sea-bird alighted\nat Violet's feet.\n\n\"Beautiful fairy,\" he sang, softly, \"do you not remember now, three\nsprings ago, when the trees were clothing themselves anew in their green\nraiment, and the flowers were springing up among the fresh grass, you\nbound up my leg, which the hunter had wounded with his cruel gun; and\nfed me daily with luscious fruits, and gave me to drink of sparkling dew\ntill I recovered? I vowed then that I would one day repay you, and now\nmy chance has come. Mount on my back, sweet Violet, and I will carry you\nto the Snow-King.\"\n\nThen Violet thanked him joyfully, and seated herself on his back; and\nthe sea-bird flew away with her far over the hills and vales, and\npleasant fields, and beyond the great ocean till he reached the palace\nof the Snow-King.\n\nThe Palace was built of blocks of ice, filled in with snow, and arched\nover with a graceful snowdrift for a roof; while lofty colonnades of\nsnow, supported by pillars of ice, led the way to the audience chamber,\nwhich glistened with diamonds and crystals of the most sparkling\nbrilliancy. The Snow-King wore on his head a crown of ice-diamonds,\nwhile from his shoulders hung gracefully a pure white cloak, fringed\nwith glittering icicles and fastened at the neck with a crystal brooch.\n\nViolet shivered a little as she entered this coldly beautiful palace,\nfor she was accustomed to bask all day long in the warm sunshine, and\nhad never trod on anything colder than the soft grass; but she quickly\nrecovered herself, and gliding with a swift graceful movement to the\nfoot of the Snow-King's throne, she bent on one knee before him, and\ntold him for what she had come.\n\nThen the Snow-King looked kindly upon the little fairy, and raised her\ngently with his ice-cold hands.\n\n\"Beautiful fairy,\" he said, \"you are the first of your race who ever\nvisited my kingdom, and never have I seen aught so radiantly lovely\nbefore. Your wish is granted, I only would it were twice as costly;\"\nand, turning to the snow-spirits, who were gathering lovingly round the\nbright being who had ventured so boldly into their ice-bound regions,\nhe bade them mould wings of the purest and most delicate snow for their\nfairy visitant. Then the King lay back on his throne, and looked at the\nsweet modest face of the little fairy, and at her graceful form, with\nthe bright hair rippling in sunny waves over the violet robe, till,\nmoved by some sudden impulse, he came and knelt down at Violet's feet.\n\n\"Sweet fairy,\" he said, as Violet turned her wondering eyes upon him, \"I\nhave long ruled as monarch among my Snow-Spirits, and I have been very\nproud of the cold splendour of my palace, with its glittering crystals\nand pillars of ice, and I have laughed when the Fire-King has taunted me\nfrom afar with its lack of warmth and colour, for I cared not for\neither; but now it seems to me that the bright gleam of your golden\nhair, and the warm glow of your violet robe, are far more beautiful than\nmy ice-diamonds and sparkling crystals, and that my palace will be very\nbleak and desolate when you have gone. Stay with us, gentle fairy, and\nbe my queen!\"\n\nThen all the Snow-Spirits gathered eagerly round Violet, and cried,\n\"Stay with us, and be our Queen!\"\n\nViolet shivered as their icy-breath blew upon her, and her hand grew\ncold in the Snow-King's frozen clasp; but she turned to him, and said,\nvery gently, for she was sorry to give him pain, \"I cannot leave my\nbeautiful fairy-land to become your Queen. I should pine away in your\nbeautiful ice-palace, for I love the warm sunshine and the bright\nflowers, and the soft breath of balmy spring, and this cold air would\nkill me. So do not ask me again, noble King, for I cannot say yes, and\nit grieves me to say no.\"\n\nThen the Snow-King urged her no more, but went back to his throne, and\nwatched her with such sad, wistful eyes, that Violet's heart ached, and\nshe was glad when they brought her the wings that she might fly away.\n\nThey were very beautiful, made of soft feathery snow, and fastened to\nher shoulders with crystal buckles.\n\nViolet knelt down and kissed the King's hand, thanking him gratefully\nfor his kindness, and praying him to forgive her any pain she had caused\nhim; and then flew away side by side with her faithful bird. The\nSnow-King watched her till the bright sheen of her hair, and the soft\nflutter of her wings could no longer be seen, and then turned back, sad\nand lonely, to his palace.\n\nBut Violet was very happy; \"I shall see fairy-land again; bright,\nbeautiful fairy-land!\" she sang softly to herself over and over.\n\nBut when the frozen seas were past, and she was hovering once more above\nthe land, the sun shone full upon her, the snow-wings melted away, and\nshe fell helplessly to the ground.\n\n\"Dear Violet, are you hurt?\" asked the Fairy Anenome, by whose side she\nhad fallen. But Violet could not speak. She hid her face in Anenome's\nwhite robe, and wept bitterly.\n\n\"Dear sister Violet,\" said Anenome, winding her arms lovingly round the\nweeping fairy, \"be comforted. This night we will go together and seek an\naudience of the Owl. Perhaps he will give us wiser counsel this time.\"\n\n\"The Owl only mocks me,\" said Violet; \"I will not ask counsel from him\nagain.\"\n\nThen Anenome was silent, for she knew not what else to advise, and only\ntried to show her pity by tender words and caresses. But Fairy Kingcup\nlifted up her bright face, and said, cheerily:--\n\n\"Why not try the Wizard of the Black Rock? He lives a long way off, but\nhe is the wisest magician that ever lived; and if any one can help our\nsister Violet, it is he.\"\n\nViolet shook her head sorrowfully.\n\n\"I do not know the way,\" she said.\n\n\"I will lead you,\" hummed a bee, from the deep cup of a cowslip.\n\n\"And I will sing you my merriest songs to cheer you by the way,\" warbled\na thrush, circling lovingly round her head.\n\n\"And I,\" cried the glowworm, \"will light you at night with my golden\nlamp.\"\n\n\"We all love you, Fairy Violet, because you are so gentle and good,\"\nthey sang in chorus; and Violet lifted her head, comforted, and smiled a\nsweet, joyous smile, as she bade farewell to her sister fairies.\n\nIt was a long journey that she undertook, for the Wizard of the Black\nRock lived quite at the other end of the earth.\n\nSometimes a benighted traveller, hurrying homewards, fancied he saw a\ngolden light flash like lightning past his dazzled eyes, or heard a\nwarbling of sweet music, delighting for an instant his bewildered ears;\nbut light and music were gone in a moment, and he never guessed that it\nwas the Fairy Violet who had passed him as she glided onward with her\nthree faithful attendants to seek the Wizard of the Black Rock.\n\nAt length they reached the great Black Rock, which rose up, grim and\nforbidding, from a wide, desolate plain. The bee sank down humming\ncheerfully, at the base, the thrush perched himself on a projecting\nridge, and the glowworm hid himself behind a tuft of withered grass.\n\nViolet advanced boldly to the small black door, studded with iron nails,\nwhich was standing open, guarded only by a black dwarf of preternatural\nugliness. He turned as the beautiful fairy came floating towards him,\nand led the way silently through dark long passages, and up narrow\nwinding stairs to his master's chamber. It was a small dark room,\nlighted only by a silver lamp of great brilliancy, which stood on a\ntable by the fire-place, where, though the month was May, and the\nweather bright and sunny, there burned a dim, smouldering fire. The\nWizard, whose silvery locks contrasted strangely with the surrounding\ngloom, bent over a book; its jewelled clasps were rusted with age, each\npage was enriched with coloured tracery. He was very old. More than a\nhundred years had elapsed since it was first rumoured that a famous\nmagician had taken up his abode in the Black Rock, and all that time he\nhad spent in studying the great black book of magic spells that lay open\nbefore him. No wonder he was wise and learned!\n\nThe dwarf shut the door with a sullen resentful clang, and Violet was\nleft alone with the great magician.\n\nShe glided to his side, and knelt down meekly before him.\n\nBut the Wizard, deep in his abstruse studies, did not hear her; and\nViolet felt a sensation of awe creeping over her as she noted his\nabstracted gaze, and looked on the high, arched forehead wrinkled with\ncenturies of years and study. Suddenly the magician turned, muttering\nsome strange words in an unknown tongue, and, as he did so, his eyes\nfell upon Violet.\n\n[Illustration: _The Fairy Violet visits the Magician._]\n\nA remembrance of some by-gone spell of grace and beauty seemed to stir\nthe Wizard as he looked upon the bright-haired fairy, to whose upturned\nface the light of the silver lamp had lent a fairer radiance, for his\ndeep voice softened as he spoke to her, and he laid his hand gently on\nher head while she told her story.\n\nWhen she had finished, he remained musing for some time in silence.\n\n\"I know no spells that will serve where the Spirits of Snow and of Fire\nhave failed,\" he said at length, with unwonted gentleness. \"No one can\nhelp thee here but thine own loving heart. Kind words, gentle deeds,\nfaithful service, patient waiting--from these alone can be wrought the\nwings, which will be slight enough for thy delicate frame to bear, and\nyet powerful enough to withstand every trial. Go forth then, gentle\nfairy, to thy daily tasks, and wait patiently till the great Mother\nNature herself give thee thy reward.\"\n\n\"Thanks, kind magician,\" said Violet, with a bright smile; \"you have\ngiven me a pleasant task to do.\"\n\nThen kissing gratefully his withered hand, she went on her way, and the\naged Magician thought his silver lamp burned dimly, and his cell grew\ndark when she had left.\n\n\"Could not the great wizard help you?\" cried her three friends,\nsorrowfully, as, gliding past the black dwarf that guarded the entrance,\nshe stepped out into the open air.\n\n\"Could he not help you?\" echoed her sister fairies, when she re-entered\nonce more the old forest.\n\n\"Alas! is there no help for you, sweet Violet?\" wept the wind, wandering\nin and out among the lofty trees, rocking and swaying them like slender\nbulrushes in his fierce sorrow.\n\nBut to each and all Violet replied only by a glad quiet smile.\n\n\"Patience!\" she said, gently; \"Mother Nature will help me in her own\ntime.\"\n\nSo she returned to her work among the violets; and when they had all\ndied, and the spring had gone, and her sister fairies flew away to\nfairy-land, she still smiled, though a little sadly, and bade them\nfarewell without a shade of discontent in her brave, gentle voice.\n\n\"Now, I must find some work,\" she said to herself, when her wistful eyes\ncould no longer discern the flutter of their wings in the azure sky.\n\nAnd she soon found plenty to do.\n\nNow it was binding up the wound of some stricken bird, or raising some\ncrushed flower, and sprinkling its drooping leaves with cooling dew, and\nnow it was closing the eyelids of a tired child who had thrown himself\ndown to rest beneath the forest shade, and singing softly in his ear a\nfairy lullaby, till he fell asleep. Sometimes she would perch herself on\nthe shoulder of some sleeping wayfarer by the roadside, and whisper in\nhis ear sweet and tender words that made him dream of his home, and of\nthe mother sleeping so peacefully in the churchyard far away, till he\nstarted from his sleep and went on his way with a touched and softened\nheart. Every day Fairy Violet found some kindly deed to do, and every\nday Mother Nature, looking lovingly on her child, saw the time was\ndrawing nearer when she should receive her reward.\n\nOne day as she was wandering through one of the by-streets of a crowded\ncity, she was attracted by a plaintive voice that proceeded from one of\nthe low-roofed, badly built houses.\n\n\"Put the geranium where I can see it, mother,\" the voice was saying, \"I\nlove to lie back and watch it.\"\n\nA woman came forward at these words and altered the position of the\nplant, which Fairy Violet had already noticed as being rather faded, and\nin want of her skill to brighten the colours.\n\n\"It is very washy-like,\" she said regretfully, \"I doubt this stuffy air\nis killing it.\"\n\n\"Will it live as long as I shall?\" asked the plaintive voice.\n\nThere was no answer, but Violet saw that the mother's hands shook as\nthey busied themselves with the flower.\n\n\"I hope it will,\" the voice continued, with a sort of wistful eagerness,\n\"for it is such a pleasure to me to watch it. It seems to comfort me,\nwhen the pain is very bad, and I lie awake through the long weary night,\nto look at it and wonder what the little garden is looking like in the\nold home you have told me of so often, mother, and whether the moon is\nshining as sweetly there as over our poor house here. I sometimes\nwonder, too, whether the flowers there are so very much more beautiful\nthan my poor sickly geranium, and whether if I saw them I should care\nfor it no longer; and then I think no, that no flower could ever be so\nbeautiful to me as my flower, and that I love it far better, rearing its\npretty head so bravely in this dull stuffy room, than if it bloomed in\nthe loveliest garden that was ever planted. And many a time when I have\nfelt a little downhearted, with being a burden to you, mother, and the\npain seeming as if it was more than I could bear, it has seemed to say;\n'Patience! poor little Faith, it will be over soon.' Do you think there\nwill be flowers in heaven, mother?\"\n\n\"Like enough, child,\" said the woman, dreamily; \"there will be\neverything that is beautiful there, I expect,\" and she heaved a deep\nsigh. Poor woman! there was little of beauty in her present life, and\nthe country home of which her child had spoken was but a far off\nrecollection to her now.\n\n\"I should like to have it near me when I die,\" the sick girl went on, \"I\nhave never had a friend you know, mother, but my flower has seemed to\nstand in the place of one to me, and I should like to look at it just at\nthe last.\"\n\n\"Lord love you, child! don't talk of dying; unless you want to break my\nheart,\" said the mother, with a tone of sharp impatience in which there\nwas more of grief than of anger.\n\nWhile she was speaking, Fairy Violet glided in at the open door.\n\nThe room was poor, but scrupulously clean, and the scanty furniture was\nas bright as diligent rubbing could make it. On a rude couch, opposite\nthe open window, lay a girl of about sixteen years of age, but with a\nwan-pinched face that made her look ten years older. Constant pain had\nblanched all the colour she might once have possessed, and the blue\nveins showed clearly through the thin transparent skin. She turned her\nhead as Violet entered, and a faint flush of pleasure rose on her pale\ncheeks.\n\n\"Mother! do you smell the violets?\" she exclaimed, eagerly, \"the room\nseems filled with fragrance.\"\n\n\"It must be your fancy, child,\" said the woman wearily; \"I smell\nnought.\"\n\nBy this time Violet had settled herself in one of the blossoms of the\ngeranium, and was busy at work.\n\n\"Look, look, mother!\" cried the sick girl again, \"this at least is no\nfancy;\" and mother and daughter gazed at the flower in amazement as the\nfaded colour grew bright under the fairy's magic touch. \"'Tis the moving\nit to a sunnier spot, or mayhap 'twas the water I gave it this morning,\"\nsaid the woman, recovering herself with a start. \"I'll give it a drop\nmore,\" and she bustled off to get some, while her daughter lay back and\nwatched the flower with a quiet, restful smile on her patient lips.\n\n\"There is work for me to do here,\" said Violet to herself, feeling quite\nhappy as she glided from blossom to blossom, touching and re-touching\nwith her delicate brush. So she stayed, and day by day the flower grew\nmore radiantly beautiful beneath her loving hands, sweetest fragrance\nfilled the room, and softest murmuring of fairy music floated on the\nair, which, though the dull senses of mother and daughter failed to\ninterpret rightly, yet stole into their hearts and gave them comfort.\nSometimes a vision would come before her of the radiant fairy-land from\nwhich she was banished, or of her beautiful forest-home where fragrant\nflowers had wrapt her in their dewy leaves, where birds had sung to her\nfrom the leafy bower above her head, and the bright sun had shone upon\nher with genial warmth. But she would quickly banish such thoughts, and\ngliding round the room would touch every dull corner with her fairy wand\ntill it shone and brightened with a magic charm, would cast a spell upon\nthe smouldering fire, so that it burned and crackled cheerily, would lay\nher cool hand upon the sick girl's throbbing brow till the pain abated,\nand would cast a fairy haze before her languid eyes, so that they saw\nbeautiful visions in the changeful sky.\n\nSo day by day passed by, till one morning, bending over a glass that\nstood beneath the flower she was painting, Fairy Violet saw her own\nreflection in the clear water. But she saw something more! A pair of\nwings of the most delicate gossamer, tipped with silver and sparkling\nwith a marvellous radiance, had sprung from her shoulders and rose\nalmost on a level with her tiny head! Fairy Violet had won her wings at\nlast, and the golden gates of Fairy-land, where the woods and forests\nwere always green, and the valleys ever radiant with beautiful flowers,\nwere open to her once more.\n\nWild with joy, she darted out of the window, and was already far above\nthe tops of the smoky chimneys, when she remembered the patient\nsuffering girl whose life was slowly wasting away in the close confined\natmosphere of her miserable home. Then her wings drooped and her bright\nface clouded over.\n\n\"I must not leave my work unfinished,\" she said, and with a wistful\nglance at the white fleecy clouds that seemed to beckon lovingly to her,\nshe returned to the cottage; and the dying girl's last days were\nbrightened by the fairy presence of which she was so unconscious.\n\nShe knew not that it was from Violet the murmuring music came that\ndelighted her wondering ears, that it was to her she owed the sweet\nfragrance that filled the air, and the soft fresh colouring of the\nflower at which she loved to gaze; but though the gentle fairy got no\nthanks, she felt well rewarded for her labour of love when she saw the\npeaceful smile that rested on Faith's wasted face, and the light that\nbeamed in her dark eyes.\n\nAt last the end came. One evening as the sun was sinking to rest in\ngreat waves of crimson and gold, Faith asked for her flower to be\nbrought to her, smiled faintly as her dim eyes rested on it for the last\ntime, laid her head on her mother's breast, and died. A low wailing cry\nbroke from the mother as she felt that never again would the dark eyes\nbe raised lovingly to hers, or the wan face brighten at her approach;\nbut Violet saw what the mother failed to see, that white-robed angels\nhad gathered round the death-bed, and were now bearing away the freed\nspirit with strains of triumphant joy. So she framed the glorious vision\ninto a song, which she sang in the woman's ear, and the mother was\ncomforted, though she knew not why.\n\n\"'Tis better so, my poor lamb,\" she murmured, while tears dropped slowly\none by one down her sunken cheeks. \"There is no pain where thou art\ngone, nor hunger either, and I will join thee there by-and-bye.\"\n\nThen Violet knew that her work was done, and she flew out of the open\nwindow, and up into the clear sky, far above the tops of the tall\nchimneys, and some men, who were looking up from the dusty streets at\nthe sunset, wondering whether the next day would be fine or wet, caught\na sudden gleam of her silver-tipped wings, and thought it was a flash of\nsummer lightning, and were conscious at the same moment of a delicious\nfragrance as of violets, and said the wind must be from the west, for it\nwas wafting to them country scents. Fairy Violet laughed as she heard\ntheir blundering guesses, a laugh that rippled out on the still air like\nthe chiming of silver bells, and then flew joyously on to thank the\nWizard of the Black Rock for his wise counsel.\n\nBut when she reached the Black Rock, she found the magician, wearied out\nwith a succession of sleepless nights spent in abstruse study and deep\nresearch, had fallen fast asleep, with his venerable head resting on the\nmysterious book, and the black dwarf at his feet jealously guarding his\nslumber. So she trimmed his silver lamp for him afresh, so that it\nburned with a yet more wonderful brilliance, laid a cluster of sweet\nflowers beside him, and then gladly flitting from the gloomy rock,\nspread her glistening wings, and darted up into the air; up, up, far\nabove the tops of the lofty trees, flashing like a bright vision through\nthe now darkening night. She passed the silver moon, which was shining\ncalmly down upon the world she had just left; she threaded her way in\nand out among the golden stars; on, on she went till she saw the\nbeautiful radiant light that never dims, and heard the soft murmuring of\nsweet music, and smelled the delicious fragrance of Fairy-land.\n\nAs she passed through the golden gates she heard a great shout of, \"'Tis\nthe Fairy Violet!\" and instantly all the bells of Fairy-land began to\nring, and a gay procession of radiant fairies, all dressed in their\nfairest robes, came to meet her, and pressed round her with loving\nwelcome and congratulation. \"Come to our Queen, for she is waiting for\nyou,\" they cried; and led her in triumph up the shining steps of the\nFairy Palace, and into the Hall of Pearl, where the Queen was seated on\nher throne dispensing the graceful wreaths, which, woven by her own\nhand, were the choicest rewards bestowed in Fairy-land. It was easy to\nadjudge the crowns of merit among the fairies, for their beauty\nincreased, or waned, according as they had done well or ill.\n\nNow, every one looking on the Fairy Violet saw that she was the most\nbeautiful of all, for her face was so radiantly lovely, that none but\nthe purest fairies could look on it undazzled. So when the Queen, after\ngreeting Violet with her sweetest smiles, had asked, \"To whom shall I\ngive the fairest crown?\" they all shouted unanimously, \"To our Sister\nViolet!\"\n\nBut Violet lifted her gentle face with a pleading gesture.\n\n\"May it please your Majesty,\" she said, earnestly, \"I do not deserve to\nbe so highly honoured; my sisters have all done as well as I have.\"\n\n\"No, little Violet,\" said the Queen, smiling, \"you have done best of\nall. We well know what your work has been.--Listen!\"\n\nThen Violet listened, and she heard a wondrous song, which, rising and\nfalling with each change of the fitful breeze, now broke into a wild\nstrain of piercing sweetness, and anon died away into a soft musical\nmurmur like the rippling of fairy streams.\n\n\"That song, little Violet,\" said the Queen, \"is the record of your life\non earth.--Listen again.\"\n\nThey all listened, while the marvellous strain sang of Violet's gentle\nlife on earth.\n\nNot a loving word she had ever said, not a kind deed she had ever done,\nnot a smile her loving arts had brought to the lips of the dying girl,\nnot a blessing uttered by the mother unconscious to whom she owed the\npeace and quiet of her daughter's last days; not a fragrant breath from\nrescued flower, not a song from grateful bird, but added its sweet note\nto that marvellous song.\n\nHad there been one unkind word, one selfish thought, one cruel deed, the\nsong would have been broken by jarring discords; but all was harmony,\nnot one harsh note disturbed the rippling melody.\n\nAs one by one Violet's beautiful secrets were brought to light, the\nfairies looked on her with loving admiration, but Violet was quite\nashamed at being praised so openly, and hid her blushing face on\nAnenome's shoulder.\n\nWhen the story of Violet's deeds was ended, and the wild mysterious\nmusic had lulled into inarticulate murmuring, the Fairy Queen looked\nround upon her subjects, and asked once more, \"To whom shall I give the\nfairest crown?\"\n\nAnd all the fairies cried again, more eagerly than ever--\n\n\"To Violet! To Violet!\"\n\nThen Violet could refuse no longer, but bent gracefully on one knee\nbefore the throne, while the Queen placed the crown on her shining hair.\n\nThe wonderful music died away into silence, and was never heard again,\nbut the court-minstrel who had listened eagerly to its wild strains,\ncaught the beautiful melody, and repeated it on his harp; and to this\nday, at fairy-feast and revel, the favourite legend is that which tells\nhow the Fairy Violet lost and won her wings.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nBellenden Series\n\nOF\n\nSTORIES FOR CHILDREN.\n\nBy M. L. B. KER.\n\n_Author of \"Eva's Victory\" &c., &c._\n\nILLUSTRATED BY J. A. MARTIN.\n\n\n1. HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET LOST AND WON HER WINGS.\n\n          _Will shortly be published--_\n\n2. HANS VOGLER.\n\n          =PRICE FOURPENCE.=\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nObvious punctuation errors repaired.\n\nPage 23, \"desevre\" changed to \"deserve\" (do not deserve)","title":"How the Fairy Violet Lost and Won Her Wings","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":6470}