{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39560/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39560","id":"gutenberg_39560","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39560","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Literature - Other","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Children's stories","Fairy tales","Legends"],"text":"Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HELGA IN THE FAIRY KING'S PARADISE. p. 154.]\n\n\n\n\n    Fairy Circles\n\n    TALES AND LEGENDS\n    OF\n    Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and Hobgoblins\n\n\n    FROM THE GERMAN OF VILLAMARIA\n\n    WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n    London:\n    MARCUS WARD & CO., 67 & 68, CHANDOS STREET\n    AND ROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST\n    1877\n\n\n\n\n    CONTENTS.\n\n\n                                             PAGE\n    BARBAROSSA'S YOUTHFUL DREAM                 7\n    KING LAURIN                                32\n    THE DWARF OF VENICE                        54\n    RHINE GOLD                                100\n    THE FRIENDSHIP OF THE DWARFS--\n         PART I. THE DYING DWARF-QUEEN        115\n        PART II. THE FRIENDS IN THE ROCK      124\n    THE FLOWER OF ICELAND                     142\n    THE SEA-FAIRY                             172\n    THE FAITHFUL GOBLIN                       201\n    THE FALLEN BELL                           223\n    THE LAST HOME OF THE GIANTS               249\n\n\n\n\n    Illustrations.\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n    HELGA IN THE FAIRY KING'S PARADISE (p. 155)          _Frontispiece._\n    FREDERICK TAKES LEAVE OF GELA                                      7\n    BARBAROSSA IN THE HOLY LAND                                       21\n    BARBAROSSA AND GELA IN THE KYFFHAeUSER                             27\n    VRENELI IN KING LAURIN'S ROSE-GARDEN                              32\n    KING LAURIN IN VRENELI'S COTTAGE                                  43\n    THE DWARF OF VENICE TAKES HIS DEPARTURE FOR HIS NATIVE LAND       54\n    HANS SEES KING LAURIN'S KINGDOM IN THE MAGIC MIRROR               63\n    HANS RECEIVES A HEARTY WELCOME FROM AN OLD FRIEND                 92\n    HACO THROWS THE TREASURE OF THE NIBELUNGEN INTO THE RHINE        100\n    CHARLEMAGNE MEETS WITH KRIEMHILD                                 109\n    THE COUNTESS MATILDA RESTORES THE DWARF-QUEEN TO HEALTH          115\n    ECKBERT'S WILD RIDE ON KUNO'S HORSE                              124\n    KUNO LISTENS TO THE WISE MAN'S TALK                              134\n    HELGA AT HER MOTHER'S FEET                                       142\n    \"IN HELGA'S HEART MEMORY CEASED TO THRILL\"                       155\n    THE OLD MAN BESIDE THE CORPSE OF ANTONIO                         172\n    ANTONIO IN THE CRYSTAL CASTLE                                    178\n    ANTONIO LAYS THE DEAD MAIDEN IN HER LAST RESTING-PLACE           189\n    FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH PUCK                                     201\n    \"GERO CAUGHT PUCK SUDDENLY AND SET HIM BEFORE HIM ON HIS\n      SADDLE\"                                                        212\n    THE STORM HURLS THE BELL INTO THE STREAM                         223\n    THE WATER-ELF AND THE LITTLE SOUL ON THE RAFT OF WATER-LILIES    238\n    ASLOG RETURNS TO HER FATHER                                      249\n    GURU AWAKES THE ROCK TO LIFE                                     269\n\n\n\n\nFAIRY CIRCLES.\n\n\n\n\nBarbarossa's Youthful Dream.\n\n[Illustration: FREDERICK TAKES LEAVE OF GELA.]\n\n\nMore than a thousand years have rolled away since a castle looked down\ncheerfully from a height amid the Franconian plains into the\nwell-watered Kinzig Valley, with its pleasant villages and towns.\n\nIt belonged to the powerful Swabian duke Frederick of Hohenstaufen,\nwhose young and valiant son loved this the best of all his father's\nproud castles, and often left his uncle's splendid palace to hunt in\nits forests, or to look down from its lofty oriel window on the\nblooming plain below.\n\nHis father and uncle indeed missed him sadly. His clear blue eye, and\nthe cheerful expression of his noble countenance, seemed to the two\ngrave and war-weary men so gladdening to look upon, that they were\nalways unwilling to let him leave them.\n\nBut the young Frederick used to beg them so earnestly to grant him the\nfreedom of the forest for just this once, that father and uncle\nsmilingly granted him permission, though \"this once\" was often\nrepeated.\n\nSo it happened the autumn of that year when Bernard of Clairvaux\npassed through Germany, calling prince and people in words of burning\neloquence to aid in the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre.\n\n\"Just this once!\" said young Frederick again; and King Conrad and Duke\nFrederick granted him permission.\n\nAs he bent in courteous farewell to take his uncle's hand, the king\nwhispered, \"Be ready, my Frederick, to return as soon as my messenger\ncalls thee. Great things are before us, and I can ill spare thy strong\nright arm!\" And young Frederick smiled his own cheery smile, and\nanswered, \"I come when my king and lord calls!\"\n\nThen he galloped away as if he were bound that day to ride round the\nworld. His Barbary steed bore him as on wings through the dark\nforests of the Spessart, and as the latest sunbeams sank in the waters\nof the Kinzig, he mounted the steep path towards the castle, and rode\nover the lowered drawbridge into the court.\n\nWas it really the stags and boars in the vast forests, or the treasure\nof rare old manuscripts of the castle archives, which drew the young\nprince again and again to the small and lonely fortress?\n\nSo his father and uncle thought, but they knew not of his deep\nunconquerable love for the beautiful Gela, the daughter of a humble\nretainer. He had seen her while resting from the chase in the forest\nof the Kinzig Valley, and so great had his love for her become that he\nwas willing to renounce all dreams of future power and greatness to\nlive in blissful retirement with the beloved one whom he could not\nraise to his own rank.\n\nBut the lovers had to guard their secret carefully; they dared trust\nno confidant, lest their paradise should be laid waste before its\ngates had been fully opened to admit them. So they breathed their love\nto none but each other.\n\nThe prince passed Gela with cold indifference if he met her in the\ncastle court or at her work about the house, and Gela made lowly\nreverence, as if she were the meanest of his maids, to him who counted\nit his greatest honour to do her service.\n\nBut at evening, when Frederick had roamed the forest since early\nmorning, his bow on his shoulder and his faithful hounds by his side,\nthe fair Gela might be seen walking along the high-road with a basket\non her arm, or with a stock of newly-spun yarn, as if she were going\nto seek purchasers in the nearest town. But in the forest she would\nleave the broad path, and make her way through briars and underwood to\na height on which her young prince awaited her beneath the shelter of\na giant oak.\n\nThere they would talk happily and innocently till the last sunbeam was\nquenched in the Kinzig stream, and the convent bell resounded through\nthe arches of the forest; then they would fold their hands in prayer\nbefore saying farewell, in hope of a meeting on the morrow.\n\nSo had it been for many a year. Their love remained unbetrayed, their\nhope unquenched, their faith unshaken. In the splendid halls of the\npalace, amid the proud and lovely ladies who surrounded the young\nprince with flattering marks of favour, the longing after the lonely\nforest in the Kinzig Valley and the fair and gentle loved one never\ndied from his heart.\n\nThey had met thus one evening with the old, yet ever new tenderness.\nFrederick drew Gela's fair head to his breast, and spoke to her of the\nnear and blissful future, which would be theirs in a few weeks, when\nhe would be of age, and would be able to lead her openly as his wife\nto his castle in the fair land of Bavaria, to the inheritance of his\ndead mother. And the oak tree overhead rustled gently, scattering\ngolden leaves on Gela's beautiful hair, for it was far on in autumn.\n\nWhen the vesper bell of the forest cloister began to sound, it was\nalready dark; the moonlight gleamed on the path, and Gela walked with\nher lover as far as the high-road, supported by his arm. But there\nthe moon shone so brightly that they had to part, lest some prying eye\nshould see them. \"Meet me to-morrow, dearest!\" said the young prince,\nonce more kissing her blooming cheek; then Gela tripped lightly down\nthe high-road towards the valley, while Frederick gazed after her till\nshe vanished from his sight, when he called his dogs, and turned\ntowards the castle.\n\nBut there the usual stillness and loneliness had given place to bustle\nand confusion. The young prince's aged tutor, who was the\nfather-confessor and confidential friend alike of his father and of\nhis uncle, had arrived a few hours before, accompanied by a troop of\nhorsemen. Inquiries after the young prince passed impatiently from\nmouth to mouth, for the message was one which called for haste. At\nlast he came riding over the drawbridge, his handsome face glowing as\nin a transformation, for his vision of the forest still hovered before\nhis mind.\n\nThe old chaplain of the brothers of Hohenstaufen had been long and\nanxiously awaiting his pupil; now he hastened to meet him as quickly\nas his infirmities permitted, and greeted his dear one, who had left\nhim but a few days before, as if he had not seen him for years.\n\nThen they went together to the room with the oriel window, for there\nthe young prince liked best to sit, as it afforded a view of Gela's\nlattice. They sat long in confidential conversation, and the light\nthat fell on the pavement for hours after all others in the castle\nwere asleep told Gela, who stood at the window opposite, that\nimportant and serious matters were being discussed by her dear one and\nhis aged tutor.\n\nNext morning the people flocked out of the castle chapel, where the\nold priest who had arrived the evening before had spoken to them in\neloquent words, and claimed the arm and heart of young and old for the\napproaching crusade to the Holy Land. And not in vain. Men and youths\nwere ready to venture wealth and life, and the aged were with\ndifficulty persuaded to remain at home to till the ground and protect\nthe women and the little ones.\n\nAll returned home to arrange their business hastily, and make needful\npreparations. One alone remained in the sacred place. It was Gela,\nwho, when all had left the chapel, rose from her seat and threw\nherself prostrate before the altar, there to pour forth all the\nanguish of broken hopes, of parting, and of lonely sorrow that\noppressed her heart.\n\nShe lay thus, her hands clasped, and her face uplifted in an agony of\ngrief. There were light footsteps behind her, but Gela, lost in sorrow\nand prayer, heeded them not. A hand was laid on her shoulder; she\nlooked up and saw the face of him on whose account she suffered.\n\n\"Gela,\" said the young prince tenderly and low, as if in reverence to\nthe holy place--\"Gela, we must part! We must wait a while for the\nfulfilment of yesterday's beautiful dream! I can scarcely bear it, and\nyet I cannot refuse, either as prince and knight, or as son and\nsubject.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gela calmly; \"thou must obey, my Frederick, even though our\nhearts will bleed.\"\n\n\"And thou wilt be true to me, Gela, and wait patiently till I come\nback, and not give thy heart to another?\" asked the prince, and his\nvoice was full of pain.\n\n\"Frederick,\" said Gela, laying her hand on his shoulder, \"bid me give\nmy life; if it were necessary to thy happiness, I would give it\ngladly. Thine will I be through all the sorrow of separation; and if I\ndie, my soul will leave heaven at thy call.\"\n\nFrederick drew her to his heart. \"I go content, my Gela; danger and\ndeath cannot harm me, for I am sheltered by thy love! Farewell till we\nmeet again in joy!\"\n\nHe hastened away to hide the tears that started to his eyes, and Gela\nsank again on the altar steps and bent her head in silent prayer.\n\nShe did not perceive the footsteps that once more broke the stillness\nof the place, and she only looked up when a second time a hand was\nlaid on her shoulder. It was not into Frederick's youthful face that\nshe looked this time, but into the grave countenance of the aged\npriest who had come to call her darling and the people of the\nsurrounding country to the Holy War.\n\nShe shuddered as she thought that he had perhaps been a listener to\ntheir conversation, and had thus discovered the carefully guarded\nsecret.\n\n\"Be not afraid, my daughter,\" said the old man gently; \"I have been an\nunwilling witness of your meeting, but your words have fallen into the\near and heart of a man whose calling makes him the guardian of many a\nsecret.\"\n\nGela breathed more freely.\n\n\"Thou art of pure heart, my daughter,\" continued the old man mildly;\n\"who could chide thee for giving thy love to a youth to whom God has\ngiven a power to charm that wins the affection of almost every heart?\nBut, my daughter, if thou love him thou must renounce him.\"\n\nGela looked up in terror at the priest.\n\n\"Yes, renounce him!\" he repeated gravely, nodding his white head as he\nspoke.\n\n\"I cannot, reverend father!\" faltered the maiden with trembling lips.\n\n\"Canst thou not?\" asked the old man still more earnestly; \"canst thou\nnot give up thine own happiness for his sake, and yet thou art ready\nto give thy life if his happiness should demand it?\"\n\n\"Oh, reverend father,\" Gela faltered, raising her hands to him\nentreatingly, \"look not so stern! You know not what it is to renounce\nhim, and with him all that I call happiness. But if his welfare\ndemands it, my heart shall break without a murmur.\"\n\nA gentle radiance beamed from the old priest's eyes.\n\n\"Thou hast well spoken, my daughter,\" he said gently. \"Frederick loves\nthee now with the force of his unestranged affection, and is ready to\nsacrifice rank and worldly prospects for thy sake; but he is a man and\na prince, and, above all, of the house of Hohenstaufen, in whose soul\nlies a longing after great and praiseworthy deeds, though these\naspirations are lulled to slumber by his love for thee. But when he\ncomes to years of manhood, he will be unhappy that thou hast kept him\nfrom the tasks incumbent on one of his noble race. And then, my\ndaughter, not he alone, but all Germany will blame thee, for every\nfar-seeing eye recognises already in this heroic youth the future\nleader who is destined to bring this divided realm to unity and\ngreatness. Canst thou think of the future of thy lover, and of us all,\nand yet act but for thine own happiness?\"\n\nGela raised herself as out of a dream.\n\n\"No, my father,\" she said in a firm voice, though the light of her\neyes seemed quenched as she gazed at the priest; \"no, I renounce him.\nBut if he should ever think with bitterness of Gela, I ask of you that\nyou will tell him of this hour, and why I have renounced him; because\nI loved his happiness more than myself. May this sacrifice not be in\nvain!\"\n\nThe priest laid his hand, trembling with emotion, on her beautiful\nhead. \"Peace be with thee, my daughter!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn a dewy May morning, two years after that farewell scene in the\ncastle chapel, young Frederick rode over the drawbridge of the\nfortress on the height beside the Kinzig Valley.\n\nThe sun of Syria had dyed his white skin with a deeper hue, the toils\nof war and grief at dispelled illusions had drawn a slight furrow in\nthe smooth brow, but on his flowing beard and hair lay the same golden\nsplendour, and his blue eyes beamed brightly as of yore.\n\nThe castle servants flocked to greet their beloved young master, who\nhad meantime, through his father's death, become Duke of Swabia and\ntheir feudal lord. His princely mouth spoke many a gracious word, and\nhis winning smile hovered among them like a sunbeam. His eye passed\nquickly from line to line, till it rested inquiringly on the features\nof an old bent man. It was Gela's father. Then he sprang from his\nhorse, and ascended the stair to his favourite room.\n\nThe butler placed a goblet of the richest wine on the table, a drink\nof honour which he kept carefully in the driest corner of the cellar\nfor the greatest occasions; and Dame Barbara, the housekeeper, brought\nin proudly the delicious pastry which she had prepared for this\nfestive day; but the young duke gave no heed to these attentions. He\nstood in the oriel window, and looked down at a little lattice in the\nbuildings that surrounded the castle court. There, in a green\nwindow-box, gillyflower and rosemary used to bloom, and behind them he\noften had watched a face bent over the spinning-wheel--a face that he\nhad not found surpassed by any even among the Flowers of the East.\n\nBut now all was changed. No blossom sent forth fragrance; the green\nbox hung empty and half-broken; the clear lattice panes were blinded,\nand no dear face looked through to him in love.\n\nA pang of dread presentiment pierced his heart.\n\n\"Who dwells in that room with the blinded window?\" he asked as calmly\nas he could of Dame Barbara, who was rattling her keys to call her\nyoung lord's attention to herself and her masterpiece of culinary\nskill.\n\nThe old woman drew near, and looked at the desolate window to which\nthe duke's finger pointed.\n\n\"Alas! my lord duke,\" said the loquacious old woman, \"Gela used to\nlive there, the good child; but she became a nun two years ago last\nautumn, and entered the convent of St. Clarissa, in the heart of the\nforest.\"\n\nFrederick stood for a moment motionless, then he beckoned silently to\nthe door, for his first sound must have been a cry of pain.\n\nBarbara went, but her master sank into the window-seat, his gaze fixed\non the deserted lattice.\n\nThere was a gentle knocking at the door, but the duke heard it not for\nthe painful beating of his heart. Then the door opened, and on the\nthreshold stood the old man on whom the prince's inquiring glance had\nrested on his arrival. He approached the window with a low reverence,\nand waited patiently till his young master raised his head. When at\nlast he looked up, the old man started to see the beloved face that\nused to beam like the sunlight now covered as with the shadow of\ndeath.\n\n\"My lord duke,\" said the old man, when Frederick signed to him to\nspeak, \"I had an only child. I know not if your grace has ever noticed\nher. When the men went from the country round to the Holy War, she\nentered the forest cloister, because she thought she could there pray\nundisturbed for the safety and victory of our soldiers. Before she\nwent she made me promise to give this letter into your hands as soon\nas you returned.\"\n\nThen he drew from his doublet a strip of parchment carefully sewed in\npurple silk, and handed it to the duke.\n\nAnd again Frederick spoke not, but silently took the missive, for his\nheart was full to overflowing.\n\nThe old man withdrew in silence. When Frederick found himself alone,\nhe cut the silken covering with his hunting-knife, and drew out a\npiece of parchment; and when it was unfolded, he saw the childish\nhandwriting which he himself had taught Gela in their happy hours in\nthe forest, and with which she now bade him the last farewell, for she\ncould not break her promise to the aged monk.\n\nWhile Frederick, two years before, hastened to his uncle's palace, the\nholy man had gone on to other parts of the country to call on the\npeople to join the Holy War, and from this errand death had called\nhim.\n\nThe sun was already far past the meridian, but yet no sound had broken\nthe stillness of the room where Frederick sat. The butler's drink of\nhonour was untasted; Dame Barbara's masterpiece remained untouched.\n\nAt last the young duke rose, left the room, and descended the winding\nstair into the court; but when his steed was brought, the attendant\nesquire thought that this could scarcely be the same young and joyous\nprince who, a few hours before, had ridden across the bridge. He\nsprang into the saddle, cast a last glance on the desolate window, and\nthen turned without a word of farewell to take the road which, but a\nshort time before, he had galloped over with hopeful heart. It was the\nsame road which Gela had so often followed with him to the little hill\nin the forest, and when he came to the narrow path, he led his\nobedient horse to one side, fastened the bridle round the trunk of a\ntree, and then walked slowly along the mossy path.\n\nNow he stood beneath the oak. Its leafy roof and the moss at its foot\nwere green and fresh as ever. Once he was like it in his love and\nhope, but all was changed! He sat down at the foot of the tree, and\nits rustling brought back to his soul the dream of his now vanished\nyouth.\n\nSuddenly bells sounded from the forest depths. But he could not, as in\ndays gone by, fold his hands in pious awe, and pour forth every grief\nin a believing prayer. No; at the sound of these bells which now\ncalled Gela, his Gela, to devotion, it seemed to him as if he must\nrush to the cloister gate, knock with his sword hilt, and cry, \"Come\nback, Gela, come back; for thy sacrifice will be in vain!\"\n\nHe hastened down the hill to his horse, and sprang into the saddle.\n\n\"Away, my faithful steed!\" he cried aloud. \"Show me the way, for love\nand grief have bewildered my clear brain. Bear me where knightly duty\nand princely honour claim my presence--for I know not where.\"\n\nAnd the good beast, as if it understood his master's words, rushed\nwith him away farther and still farther south through the dim\ntwilight, and beneath the bright beams of the full moon. Without\nweariness, though without rest, it bore him on, and when the morrow's\nsun stood in noonday splendour they had reached the goal, and the\nyoung duke stood before the gate of his own Staufenburg.\n\nGela's sacrifice was not offered in vain. The words the old monk\nuttered that morning in the castle chapel were fulfilled. After his\nuncle's death, young Frederick of Swabia was raised to the throne of\nGermany, and all that the realm and people of Germany had hoped from\nhim was more than fulfilled.\n\nHis strong hand gave unity, strength, and majesty to the divided land,\nsuch as no ruler after him was ever able to bestow; and when the\nimperial crown of Rome was also placed upon his head, the proud people\nof Italy bowed before Frederick Barbarossa, did him homage, and\nacknowledged his power.\n\nThe laurels of many a victory rested on the Emperor's brow; his house\nwas happy, his race flourished, his name lay like a word of blessing\non every lip; and when Gela, still in the bloom of youth, closed her\neyes in death, she knew that she had not in vain renounced Frederick\nand happiness.\n\nBeneath the shelter of his favourite castle the Emperor founded a\ntown, and named it after the unforgotten loved one of his youth,\n\"Gelashausen;\" and when on his travels he came to the forest of the\nKinzig Valley, he led his horse silently aside, fastened the bridle to\na tree stem, and ascended the hill to the majestic oak. There leaning\nhis head, amid whose gold full many a thread of silver gleamed,\nagainst the trunk, he closed his eyes, and dreamed once more the old\ndelightful dream.\n\nAnd the people called that tree ever after \"the Emperor's oak.\"\n\nThe sun of Asia Minor once more sent its glowing rays on the head of\nthe heroic Emperor, though they gleamed back now with a silvery\nradiance.\n\n[Illustration: BARBAROSSA IN THE HOLY LAND.]\n\nThe cry of distress had risen once again from the Land of Promise, and\ndrawn the aged monarch from his German home; he placed himself at the\nhead of his army, and led it with prudence, courage, and military\nskill safely through the heat of the Eastern sun, in spite of the\ntreachery and malice of the foe, in spite of the pangs of hunger and\nconsuming thirst.\n\nOn a warm summer evening the army reached the steep bank of a foaming\nmountain torrent. There on the farthest side lay the road that they\nmust take.\n\nBarbarossa's son Frederick, that \"Flower of Chivalry,\" sprang with a\nchosen band from the high rocky bank into the stream and reached the\nother side in safety.\n\nThe Emperor now prepared to follow. Without heeding the advice of his\nattendants, the aged hero, who had never known what fear meant, put\nspurs to his steed and plunged with him into the waters of the Seleph.\nFor a few seconds the golden armour gleamed amid the waves, once or\ntwice the reverend, hoary head rose above the stream, then the deadly\nwaters carried horse and rider into their raging depths, and the\nbeloved hero vanished from the eyes of his sorrowing army. His most\nvaliant knights indeed and chosen friends plunged after him into the\nflood to save their honoured prince or die with him, but the wild\nmountain torrent bore them all to death. With bitter lamentations the\narmy wandered up and down the stream, if perchance they might at least\nwin the precious corpse from the waters. But night came and threw its\ndark veil over the sorrow and mourning of the day.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll around were wrapped in slumber, even deeper than was their wont.\nThe moon stood high in heaven, and beneath its beams the waters of the\nSeleph flowed more gently like molten silver. Once more they roused\ntheir angry strength, and from their midst a white head rose, golden\narmour gleamed above the waves, and Barbarossa and his faithful steed\nslowly emerged from the waters. With noiseless hoof they wandered up\nand down the stream, and out from the depths mounted the troops of\nfaithful ones who had followed their Emperor to danger and death. The\ndrops gleamed like diamonds as they fell from head and armour with a\ngentle splash into the shining stream.\n\nSilently the band of warriors rode along the waves; not a sound, not a\nfootstep broke the stillness; thus they turned to the shore, and the\nhorses clambered up the rocky bank.\n\nThere Barbarossa and his silent warriors halted on the height. For a\nmoment the Emperor's glance rested on the slumbering army, he held out\nhis hand as if blessing them in a last farewell, then he shook the\nreins, and horse and rider, freed from the laws of earthly gravity,\nswept onwards to the beloved Fatherland.\n\nThey passed over the Bosphorus. Far below them gleamed the towers of\nConstantinople with the golden cross on their summits, but Barbarossa\nheeded them not. His head was bent forward, so that his white locks\nfluttered in the night wind, and his eyes were directed solely to the\nland towards which the horses moved with the swiftness of the\nstorm-wind on their cloudy path.\n\nSoon German forests rustled beneath them, and round the Emperor's lips\nplayed something like the reflection of the old sunny smile.\n\nTo the south lay the Italian plains which had claimed the best years\nof his life and his youthful energy, but the Emperor turned his head\nfrom these. Perhaps he saw already the destiny of his proud race,\nwhich must some day be fulfilled in those fragrant fields.\n\nNow their native air surrounds them. The fir trees of the Black Forest\nscent the air, the waves of the Neckar gleam below them, and, bathed\nin the full moon's silvery splendour, there lies at their feet the\nStaufenburg, the cradle of the lofty imperial race.\n\nBarbarossa raised his hand to bless its battlements and pinnacles, but\nstill he held on his way northwards.\n\nThe Spessart forests rustled beneath him in the darkness of the night,\nnot a moonbeam pierced their thickly-leaved summits. But there gleamed\nthe waters of the Kinzig, the walls of Gelashausen in its gently\nflowing stream, and over on the mountain's brow shone the aged\nEmperor's favourite castle, with the high oriel window, and Gela's\ndeserted lattice.\n\nBarbarossa bent over his horse's neck, and cast a look of recognition\non the scene of his early happiness.\n\nSoon they hovered above the high-road, and then over the familiar\nforest with its spreading \"Emperor's oak.\" The old man's head was\nstill bent forward, as if his eye would pierce the whispering\ntree-tops. A sound of clear bells greeted his ear. Below in the\nconvent they called to midnight prayer, and these tones, which had\nonce well-nigh broken his heart, acted now as a spell to bring back\nthe old loved images. His breast heaved as of yore in mingled joy and\ngrief, and \"Gela, my Gela!\" was the cry that started from his lips\nand reached the convent in whose vaults the loved one slumbered.\n\nBut still the steeds held on their unhalting course over Thuringia's\ngolden plain to the Kyffhaeuser Mountain, within which Frederick\nBarbarossa must hold council to-night with his faithful ones about the\npeople of Germany and their future.\n\nThe castle, which in bygone days had so often opened its hospitable\ngates to him and his court, within whose halls many a gladsome feast\nhad been held, of whose magnificence and splendour old chronicles tell\nus--this castle still kept watch over the land with unbroken\npinnacles, but Barbarossa knocked not at its gate.\n\nGently the horses sank to the earth, and halted at a hidden door in\nthe mountain side.\n\nThe Emperor struck the stone with his sword, so that a loud echo\nanswered from the hollow interior. Then the rocky door opened, and\nBarbarossa and his faithful warriors entered the spacious hall of the\nKyffhaeuser Mountain. The rock had not long closed behind them when a\ngentle tapping was heard, the magic gate swung open, and the lovely\nGela entered, arrayed in bridal attire as she had been laid in the\ntomb.\n\nThe hand of death had touched her heart, but had not quenched her\nlove. When Frederick's cry reached her ear, she had opened her eyes as\nout of a deep sleep, and had left the vault to seek her beloved with\nthe swiftness of a spirit's tread. Now she stands before him in\nunchanged grace and beauty.\n\nBarbarossa's youthful dream was fulfilled. Gela, his first love, was\nnow at his side to tend him and bless him for ever as she could never\nhave done on earth. It was she, the faithful one, who ruled henceforth\nin the magic kingdom of the Kyffhaeuser, and cared for the beloved hero\nand his trusty band. It was she who knew when Barbarossa's heart\nyearned over the memories of his glorious past. Then she would lead\nthe knights--his faithful comrades in the Holy War--into his room.\nThey would range themselves round the marble table at which Barbarossa\nsat, with his long white beard flowing round him like imperial ermine,\nand over the golden goblets, filled from the exhaustless stores of the\nmountain cellars, they talked with the hero about the glorious days\nthat they had spent together, about \"the golden age\" of the Holy\nGerman Empire. And the minstrels, who had been wont to go with him to\nthe Holy Land, and had entered with him the enchanted mountain of the\n\"Golden Meadow,\" would strike their harps, and the song of the future,\nwhich still slumbered in their souls, rose to their lips and echoed\nloudly through the enchanted arches of the Kyffhaeuser Mountain.\n\nWhen Barbarossa's heart longed for news of the fatherland, Gela would\npass at midnight out through the door in the rock, down through the\n\"Golden Meadow,\" and listen at many a door, and look through many a\nwindow. Then all that she heard there of sad lamentation or joyous\nhope she would faithfully pour into the Emperor's ear on her return.\nAnd what Gela failed to find out was seen by other eyes and heard by\nother ears. Just as once Odin's ravens flew down from the dwelling\nof the gods to the home of men to tell the heavenly Ruler of all\nthat happened on the earth, so did the ravens that built their nests\nin the clefts of Kyffhaeuser hover through the plains to hear of joy\nand sorrow, and bear the tidings back in silence to their rocky home.\n\n[Illustration: BARBAROSSA AND GELA IN THE KYFFHAeUSER. F. C., p. 26.]\n\nBut at the still hour of midnight, when the mountain opened, and the\nlittle dwarfs who dwelt secretly among Barbarossa's vaulted halls\nslipped out into the moonlight, then the wise birds opened their\nmouths, and the little friends--like Solomon, learned in the languages\nof birds--heard all that the ravens told. The dwarfs in their turn\nbrought the news to the old Emperor, before whom they appeared from\ntime to time to fill his treasury with newly-coined gold.\n\nWith liberal hand Barbarossa gave of these hoards to pious and honest\nmortals, whom Gela led into the magic kingdom of the Kyffhaeuser, that\nthe beloved prince might be gladdened by the sight of the new\ngeneration, which, different though it was from that of his day, still\nheld in loving remembrance the noble Barbarossa, and cherished a firm\nhope of his return to earth.\n\nThe fortress on the mountain mouldered to decay. Herds grazed where\nonce the tread of armed men was heard, but once every century the\nwalls stood at midnight in their ancient splendour; the drawbridge\nrattled, the watchman's horn sounded shrill and clear, and over the\ncastle court, through the gates with their carved coat of arms, on to\nthe brightly illumined halls of revelry, passed a brilliant\nprocession. It was Barbarossa leading by the hand the lovely Gela, and\nfollowed by his knights and vassals, all eager to breathe the air of\nthe upper world.\n\nBut while the knights were spending the few short hours with music and\nfeasting amid the pleasures of the past, the Emperor and Gela mounted\nto the highest battlement of the castle, and looked down longingly on\nthe plains of their beloved Germany.\n\nAll around lay wrapped in slumber. Night and peace had conquered all\nthe cares that gnaw in daylight at the heart of man, but they had also\nstilled its hopes.\n\n\"They are all asleep and dreaming,\" said the old Emperor, \"but the\nmorrow will come, and my people will awake and find the strife that\nnow divides their hearts laid at rest for ever. Brave men will draw\nthe sword and wield it victoriously. Then the minstrels will seize\ntheir harps, and the fame of our great and united Germany shall sound\nfrom the North Sea to the fair gardens of Italy. Then will our watch\nbe over, and we shall go to our eternal rest.\"\n\nSo spake the aged monarch, as he leant across the battlement to\nstretch his hands in blessing over his former kingdom. But when the\nfirst streak of dawn showed faintly in the east, Barbarossa and his\nGela descended, the revelry ceased, the knights grasped their swords,\nand the glittering throng passed over court and bridge back to the\nheart of the mountain, while behind them the magic castle melted into\nmist.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe great morning has dawned; the nation has awaked; their strife is\nstilled. The imperial jewels, \"Unity and Strength,\" lie no longer\nburied in the waves of the Seleph, the German people henceforth have\nthem in their midst.\n\nBarbarossa may now cease his watch and enter on his rest, for from the\nNorth Sea to the plains of Italy is sounded the fame of the great\nunited Fatherland.\n\nThus has the aged Emperor's prophecy been fulfilled, though it was but\nthe nation's youthful dream.\n\n\n\n\nKING LAURIN.\n\n[Illustration: VRENELI IN KING LAURIN'S ROSE-GARDEN]\n\n\nIn the Tyrol, that true home of the good little dwarf-folk, is a\nlovely valley where in olden days a substantial farm-house stood,\nwhose owner had come from the other side of the mountain enticed by\nthe beauty and fertility of this favoured spot.\n\nIn those days it was still possible to find good servants capable of\nforming a faithful attachment to their master and his household. But\nthe farmer thought they were still better in his old home, and for\nthis reason he generally brought his servants from the other side of\nthe high mountain ridge.\n\nSpring had returned; the mountain pastures were green once more, and\nit was time for the herds to leave the valley; but the old herdswoman\nwho for years had had the charge of the mountain farm, and in whose\ncapability and conscientiousness the farmer had the fullest\nconfidence, now took ill and died.\n\nThis was a matter of some anxiety to the farmer and his household, for\neverything was ready for the removal of the cattle.\n\n\"Go over, Tony, to our native valley,\" said the old farmer to his only\nson and heir. \"An aged cousin of mine lives there; they say her\ndaughter is a fine girl; it might be a good thing if you could\npersuade her to come to us as herdswoman.\"\n\nEarly next morning the young man set out on his errand.\n\nThe shades of night still lurked among the rocks like giants in\ndisguise, but the peaks of the glacier were already aglow with the\nlight of morning. The youth, accustomed to the beauties of his native\nmountains, gave scarcely a glance to the splendour of the Alps, but\nhastened onwards with head and heart full of anxiety about his cattle.\nSoon he reached the narrow mountain ridge between the two lofty\nglaciers, from which the way led downwards to his native valley.\n\nAt this spot stood a tall cross, with dark arms outstretched over both\nthe glaciers, as if it would tell of the dangers which had threatened\nthe traveller who, out of gratitude for his deliverance, had caused a\ncross to be erected on this lonely height.\n\nTony knelt to pray, as was the custom in those times and in that\ncountry. His head was bent low, so that he did not see the grave face\nwhich looked down on him from one of the glaciers.\n\nSurely it must have been carried thither on eagles' wings, for there,\nto that glassy height which seemed almost nearer the sky than the\nearth, no human foot could ever climb. Yet that figure stood there\ncalm, strong, and erect. Long silvery hair flowed over the shoulders;\nround the head flashed something like sunbeams, or like a mysterious\ndiadem of carbuncles; and the dark eyes pierced the distance, and\nrested on the kneeling one with an earnestness that went deep down\ninto his heart.\n\nThe young man rose and descended the winding path to the valley. The\napparition on the lofty glacier stood long looking after his receding\nfigure, and then, with the sunbeams playing among his silvery locks,\nwalked with sure footsteps that never slipped down over the gleaming\nfield of ice.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLate in the afternoon Tony sat once more at the foot of the cross,\nwith a lovely maiden by his side. She had placed her little bundle on\nthe ground at her feet, her hands lay folded on her lap, and with an\nexpression of mingled grief and newly-awakened hope she looked into\nthe face of her companion.\n\nHer mother had died a few days before, and poverty was even in those\ngood old days a bitter thing, as the poor orphan learned to her cost.\nFor the warden of the village told her bluntly that the cottage in\nwhich she had lived with her mother, being public property, was\nclaimed now by another widow, and that Vreneli must make her own way\nin the world.\n\nMany a farmer's wife would have been glad to hire the good Vreneli as\nservant, but the rough words of the warden had so frightened her that\nshe determined not to stay in this inhospitable valley; and just as\nshe had tied up her little bundle, Tony came to offer her a home in\nhis rich father's house.\n\nJoyfully she agreed, for the farmer was a relation, though a distant\none, and she had a dread of going among strangers. So Tony and she set\nout together on the mountain path, and now they were resting under the\nold cross and chatting pleasantly.\n\nVreneli's beauty and innocence had taken Tony's heart by storm, and\nnow he told her that he loved her, and that she, none but she, should\nbe his wife. Vreneli clasped her hands and listened with her whole\nsoul to these words so new to her. Ah! how sweet they sounded after\nthe harsh tones that had made her so unhappy a few hours ago! Her\nheart went out in gratitude and love to the manly youth who had so\ngenerously offered his heart and his home to the poor desolate orphan.\n\n\"But I am poor, Tony, and I have learned to-day how evil a thing\npoverty is,\" said she at last.\n\n\"What does that matter, Vreneli?\" answered Tony, cheerfully; \"I have\nenough for both. And I do not like the rich bride that my father has\nchosen for me, she is ugly and empty-headed. When they see you at\nhome, Vreneli, they must love you, you are so good and beautiful! And\nwhen you have tended the herds on the mountain with faithful diligence\nfor the summer months, and when you bring back the well cared-for\ncattle at the end of the season, you shall be my wife--I will soon\nbring my parents round to my mind.\"\n\n\"Ah, how delightful that will be!\" said Vreneli, smiling. \"How I will\nlove you, and what good care I will take of your old parents! Are you\nsure you are not making fun of me, Tony?\"\n\nThe young man put his arm around her graceful form. \"How can you talk\nso, Vreneli? Do I not love you better than any one in the whole world?\nand if it makes your mind easier, I will swear love and faithfulness\nto you under this cross--I will swear that none but you shall be my\nwife.\"\n\nHe put his right hand in hers and took the oath. Perfect stillness\nreigned around them; the spirits of the mountain listened in silence;\nnoiselessly the beams of the evening sun hovered above the cross, and\nthen sank, as if in blessing, on Vreneli's braided hair; while far\noverhead at the summit of the glacier stood the dark figure that had\nwatched Tony on his journey that morning. The poor orphan and her\nlover did not see the grave countenance that looked down on them from\nthe lofty peak, but Tony's words of solemn promise floated upwards on\nthe evening breeze to the lonely old man's ear.\n\nAgain he cast a searching glance on the kneeling youth, but when his\neyes rested on the sweet maiden that listened to those earnest words,\nthe stern expression of his countenance melted, and the wrinkled\nfeatures bore traces of some sad memories that seemed to be awakened\nby the sight of her beauty and grace. He leant gently forward, so that\nhis shining locks flowed down like a silver stream, and his eyes\nfollowed the two young people with an expression almost of longing, as\nthey walked cheerfully on. But soon the twilight laid its dim veil\nover hill and valley, and the receding figures faded altogether from\nhis view.\n\nThe rich farmer owned the pasture of a whole mountain, and Vreneli was\nto have the sole charge of the herds that grazed on it, while on\nanother mountain the herds of the other villagers wandered, watched\nover by several herdsmen.\n\n\"Now, Vreneli,\" said the old farmer next morning, when the cows had\nbeen let out of the stalls, and were already climbing the well-known\nmountain path to the music of their jingling bells--\"now, Vreneli, do\nyour duty faithfully, and take good care of my herds, and if the\nproduce of the mountain farm be richer than that yielded in the days\nof my former herdswomen, I will not be stingy about a reward.\"\n\nVreneli blushed, and cast a stolen glance at Tony, who stood behind\nhis father; she could not but think of the reward which he had\npromised her. She assured the farmer that she would do her duty,\nshook hands with the whole household, and then turned to follow the\nherds.\n\nTony went with her; he wanted to show her everything in the senner's\ncottage, and to point out the richest pastures on which the herds were\nto graze, taking a different place each day, till at last they\nreturned to the first, which by that time would be covered with a\nfresh growth of grass.\n\nIt was a lovely spring morning. The distant glacier was radiant with\nsunlight, the bells tinkled softly on the necks of the cattle, and\nwild flowers bloomed at the edge of the torrent which rushed foaming\nover the moss-grown rocks. But what was all this external beauty in\ncomparison with the blooming world in their own hearts?\n\nThey exchanged looks, and words, and happy smiles. Not till the herds\nhad been milked and led to rest on the night pasture did Tony say\ngood-bye. Vreneli stood at the door of the cottage, her hands clasped,\nand her eyes brimming with happy tears, and watched him till a turn of\nthe road hid him from her view.\n\nInside, in the cosy cottage, it seemed to her, all the time that she\nwas filling the milk vessels and putting everything in order, as if\nshe still heard his caressing words, and as if his brown eyes looked\nout on her from every corner. Love and hope quickened her hands, so\nthat her work seemed mere child's play. Then when everything was done,\nand the fire had died out on the hearth, she stepped out again to the\ndoor.\n\nLike a faithful senner she looked first at the night pasture where\nthe herds were resting peacefully. Now and then one of the beautiful\nanimals would lift its head, and the bell at its throat would tinkle\nsoftly; the night-wind moved gently among the lofty trees, making the\nlong moss of their stems wave to and fro like dark soft veils. Then\nVreneli's eyes sought the valley, and to the moonbeams which hastened,\nin their glittering robes, down the rocky path to the village she\nentrusted tender messages of love. And when she turned back into the\ncottage she knelt at her mossy couch beside the hearth, and mingled\nwith her evening prayer words of joyful thanksgiving. Her last thought\nbefore she fell asleep was this, that she was the happiest herdswoman\nand her Tony the handsomest and truest fellow in the whole land of the\nTyrol.\n\nSunny days succeeded to nights filled with golden dreams. When the\nfirst sunbeams flashed from the summit of the glacier, the goat-bells\nsounded below in the valley, and the goat-herd led his flock to seek\nthe juicy plants that grew on heights inaccessible to less sure-footed\nherds.\n\nThen Vreneli ran joyfully to meet him, for he always brought some\nmessage from Tony, or some other token of his love. With joy-quickened\nenergy she went then about her daily toil. The cows left their nightly\nresting-place, and came to Vreneli to be milked, and then she led them\nto some new pasture.\n\nAnd while the cattle grazed there, she leant against a rock and\ncarefully watched each step of the animals entrusted to her care, lest\nany one of them should go too near a precipice, or, enticed by the\nplants that grew most richly beside the torrent, be hurried away in\nits mad whirl. And when evening sank on the mountain, and clothed the\nice-columns in a splendour of red and purple, the goat-herd led his\nflock back to the valley, and received every evening from Vreneli's\nhand a bunch of mountain violets for her beloved Tony.\n\nThen she drove the cows again to the milking-place, and repeated the\ntask of the morning. But this did not end her day's work. She was busy\nfor hours in the cottage, and moon and stars had long looked down on\nthe slumbering mountain before Vreneli had finished arranging her milk\nvessels in the dairy, or placed the newly-made cheese to dry, or\nrolled out her golden butter-pats.\n\nThen after a simple prayer she lay down on her lowly couch, and when\nthe distant thunder of avalanches broke the silence of the night, and\nthe mountain torrent roared close behind her tiny cottage, Vreneli\nslept as sweetly as a child, and round her head dreams of love and\nhome hovered on golden wing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo the weeks flew by, and the day arrived when the butter and cheese\nwhich the mountain farm had hitherto produced was to be taken home to\nthe farm-house. The farmer and Tony were to come to bring it, as the\ngoat-herd had told Vreneli yesterday, and her usually dexterous\nfingers trembled with glad excitement just when it was most needful to\nshow the farmer that he had entrusted his property to capable hands.\n\nAt last--how often she had looked impatiently along the path--at last\nthe old farmer came toiling up, and behind him, not Tony, as she\nexpected, but two servants with tall baskets on their backs.\n\nVreneli was bitterly disappointed, but she controlled herself and\nwalked out calmly to meet her master. In spite of the sunny morning\ndark clouds lay upon his brow, and it did not clear even when Vreneli\ntook him into the faultless dairy and showed him the rows of large\nrich cheese and the golden butter. Silently they were laid in the\nbasket, and the servants returned homewards with heavy burdens.\n\nThen Vreneli led the farmer to the meadow where the herds were\ngrazing, and his keen eye told him that the beasts were well fed and\ncared for. It was a faithful hand to which he had entrusted his\nproperty--_that_ he must acknowledge, however unwillingly. \"You have\ndone well, Vreneli; see that you go on as you have begun!\" he said\nbluntly. How harsh the words sounded compared with those with which he\nhad sent her to the mountain! Then when he turned to go home, and she\npolitely begged him to taste the fritter that she had prepared for him\naccording to the custom of the country, he refused it, looking all the\ntime so gloomy that Vreneli did not dare to ask for Tony, though her\nheart throbbed in anxiety and longing. So he left her, and Vreneli\nstood watching him with a heart full of sadness and disappointment.\n\nIt was evening, and the firelight fell as brightly as ever on\nVreneli's lovely face, but it did not show the joyous expression of\nother evenings. Her movements were languid, and now and then a tear\nstole down her cheek.\n\nWhy did not Tony come, as he had said he would? Why was the old farmer\nso gloomy? Why did the goat-herd refuse to take the daily bunch of\nviolets, in return for which she might have hoped for some message\nfrom Tony? These were questions on which her life's happiness\ndepended, and yet there was no one there to answer them.\n\nShe sighed deeply. There had been a gentle knocking at the door, which\nVreneli, lost in her sad thoughts, had not noticed; but at her loud\nsigh the door opened, and a figure of mysterious aspect stood on the\nthreshold. Long silvery hair flowed down over the shoulders, and from\nthe serious yet kindly eyes spoke a majesty which diadem and purple\nrobes would not have been enough to give. Vreneli let fall the milk\nbowl in her astonishment, and she bowed low as to a mighty prince;\nthen she wiped the low bench before the fire, the only seat which the\nsimple cottage offered, and asked her strange guest to be seated.\n\nThe old man nodded pleasantly, and sat down at the fire, leant his\nhead on both hands, so that his silvery locks flowed almost to the\nground, and directed his earnest gaze so searchingly on Vreneli that\nit seemed to her as if he could see into her very soul.\n\n\"Why art thou so sad to-day, Vreneli?\" he said at last very gently.\n\nVreneli started. How did this stranger, who seemed to come from some\ndistant land--how could he know her name? She looked at him, half in\nreverence and half in fear. \"Come, Vreneli, wilt thou not tell me?\"\nsaid the old man, and his eye rested almost with love upon her face.\n\n[Illustration: KING LAURIN IN VRENELI'S COTTAGE.]\n\n\"I am an orphan,\" she faltered out at last, \"and sometimes a painful\nfeeling of loneliness comes over me.\"\n\n\"And is that all, Vreneli?\" asked the old man; \"canst thou not\nconfide in one who means well towards thee, and who has both the power\nand the desire to help thee? Dost thou think thyself unknown to me?\nDid I not see thee on the mountain side beneath the cross? Did I not\nhear the young man's oath, and see how love and hope had driven sorrow\nfrom thy heart? From that hour I have been thy friend. Dost thou think\nthat thy care and watchfulness could have kept the dangers of the\nmountains far from thy roof and from thy herds? When thou wast asleep\non thy couch of moss, and fair dreams led thy soul to golden meadows,\nI kept watch up there upon the rock, and warned the elements to leave\nthee and thy charge unhurt; I directed the course of the avalanches,\nand the flight of the snow-storm, so that they turned aside, and only\nsoftest breezes and the gentle starlight ever touched thy brow. Dost\nthou still mistrust me, Vreneli?\"\n\nVreneli had clasped her hands and drawn nearer to her venerable\nfriend.\n\n\"I thank you for your protection,\" said she, bowing once more in lowly\nreverence; \"whoever you may be, to me you have been a benefactor, and\nsuch a one has a right to my confidence. But tell me how you read my\nheart and learned my love for Tony? For you know already what its\nburden is. I am troubled about what has happened to-day; I cannot\nunderstand it. Above all, I am disappointed at not having seen Tony,\nafter I had looked forward so joyfully to meeting him.\"\n\nThe old man cast a searching glance on her lovely face, as she stood\nthere with the firelight falling brightly on her, and her blue eyes\nturned towards him in sorrow and touching confidence.\n\n\"And wouldst thou like to see him now?\" he asked gravely.\n\nVreneli's eyes shone with delight.\n\n\"But, Vreneli, the fulfilment of our wishes often brings something\nquite different from our hopes; we go to seek faithfulness, and we\nfind treachery.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said she, with the smile of unshaken trust, \"that will not be\nthe case with me. Tony is good and truer than gold, and did he not\nswear to me beneath the cross?\"\n\n\"Thou dear child!\" answered the old man, while painful memories\ntroubled his grave features; \"if every broken oath could make a step,\nwe would soon be able to reach the moon.\"\n\n\"Stranger,\" said Vreneli, confidently, \"you may have met with\nfaithlessness enough in your long life to make you lose your\nconfidence in human nature, but you do not know my Tony!\"\n\n\"Come then, Vreneli, since thou wishest it,\" said the old man, rising,\n\"though I would fain have spared thee this pain.\" And they stepped out\ntogether into the night.\n\nLed by the old man's hand, Vreneli climbed up to the point of rock\nfrom which he had kept nightly watch over her and her herds. They went\nforward to the edge of the precipice. Far below, veiled by the\ndarkness, lay Tony's home. High walls of rock and wide pasture-lands\nseparated them from the farm-house, so that no human eye could pierce\nthe distance.\n\nBut the old man pulled down a branch of the lofty pine above them, and\ntold Vreneli to look through a tiny knot-hole. She did so; the laws of\nspace yielded, and her anxious glance flew to the distant farm-house.\nShe looked through the lighted windows into the well-furnished rooms.\nAll the costly vessels and ornaments, which were usually carefully\nlaid past in chests and cupboards, were to-day displayed on the\nfestive board, round which the most distinguished residents of the\nvillage were chatting and laughing merrily. Next his parents sat Tony,\nand at his side a richly dressed maiden. His eyes shone, and his mouth\nsmiled and whispered, just as on that evening when he had sworn love\nand faithfulness to Vreneli beneath the cross on the mountain. His\nfather's threatening words and the wealth of the bride so long chosen\nfor him had quickly shaken Tony's purpose, and while the gentle\nVreneli was thinking anxiously about his non-appearance, the fickle\nyouth broke his solemn oath, and betrothed himself to the unloved but\nwealthy bride.\n\nVreneli looked at the scene in tearless silence, then, when she could\nno longer doubt her lover's faithlessness, she let go the branch and\nturned her eyes away, so that once more night and distance covered the\nscene that had ruined her hopes. Vreneli silently descended the rock,\nbut she did not seek the shelter of her cottage. She hurried past it,\nand wandered on aimlessly over the wilds of the mountain. It seemed\nalmost as if she wished to reach the icy glacier heights.\n\n\"Vreneli,\" said the voice at her side; \"Vreneli, whither wilt thou\ngo?\" She turned her head as in a dream. Stony sorrow had fallen on her\ngentle features, and her once bright eyes were cold and fixed.\n\"Whither?\" she said quietly, \"whither? I would like to go to the\ngrave, but, since that may not be, I will go at least away, away as\nfar as my feet will bear me.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou come with me, Vreneli?\" said the old man. \"My home shall be\nthine, and the love and faithfulness which thou hast lost here thou\nshalt find there a thousand-fold.\"\n\nVreneli looked into his mild eyes.\n\n\"And who art thou, kind old man?\" she asked with faltering voice.\n\n\"I am King Laurin, the ruler of the powerful nation of the dwarfs, who\nfor centuries were bound to men in faithful love. The impress of\ndivinity which we spirits recognised in you, and before which we\nhumbly bow, attracted us to your race. But in every generation we\ntraced it less easily, and at last, despised and deceived in return\nfor our kindness and help, we retired to the recesses of our\nmountains. There in the heart of the rock whose brow is crowned by the\nshining glacier, there stands my palace, adorned by my people with all\nthe splendour of the precious stones which, hidden to mortal eyes,\nshine deep down in the heart of the earth.\n\n\"There I live, but I have led for centuries a lonely life, for my only\ndaughter, the last flower of a blooming garland, died long, long ago.\nHer rose-garden, to tend which was her greatest delight, still blooms\nin unfading beauty, but as often as my eyes fall on its wondrous\nflowers, I think with grief of my long-lost child. Thou, Vreneli, art\na pure-hearted maiden like her, and since I first saw thee and looked\ninto thine eyes, it has seemed to me as if I had found my child. I\nhave watched over thee with a father's care, and I am ready now to\nlove thee as my daughter.\"\n\n\"Poor lonely king!\" said Vreneli, in a tone of gentle pity, while the\ntears ran down her cheeks, \"I will go with you to your mountain\npalace; I will love and honour you as your child once did, and I will\ntend the rose-garden that she loved; for I have no home and no heart\nto love me. But grant me one thing before I leave the sunlight.\"\n\n\"Thou hast but to ask and it is granted!\"\n\n\"Ah, King Laurin!\" said Vreneli, and her tears flowed faster, \"I am\nstill young, and this is the first disappointment that my heart has\nfelt, and though it is almost broken, yet I have still a faint hope\nleft. I cannot quite let go my faith in Tony.\"\n\nKing Laurin looked even more gravely than before on the weeping\nmaiden.\n\n\"No, do not be angry!\" she begged, raising her hands entreatingly to\nhim; \"call it not foolish weakness; remember that it needed hundreds\nof years before your noble heart would close against our deceitful\nrace. I know that Tony has been persuaded by his friends to take this\nstep; but he still loves me, and it would grieve him if I were to go\nwithout farewell. When he brings his bride up the mountain to-morrow,\non their way to the wedding in the next valley, let me go out to meet\nhim as he is passing my cottage--let me say farewell and part from him\nin peace.\"\n\n\"Do as thou wilt, my child,\" answered King Laurin with gentle sadness,\n\"though thou wilt find but a new sorrow. And now, Vreneli, it is late.\nGo to thy cottage, and lie down on thy couch, there to forget thy\ngriefs for a few short hours at least.\"\n\n\"Ah no!\" said Vreneli, entreatingly; \"let me stay here with you\nbeneath the stars, for I dread the loneliness of the cottage. Wherever\nI may be I cannot sleep, and the shadows of past happiness would there\ntrouble my soul. No; let me stay here and share your watch.\"\n\nThey climbed the rock, and sat down side by side beneath the lofty\npines. Vreneli folded her hands and looked up to the stars, while her\nprayer for peace and comfort arose to Him who sits enthroned above the\nsky.\n\nNot a word was spoken. King Laurin gazed in silence on the moonlit\nglacier, while his mind wandered back to the memories of a thousand\nyears, and on Vreneli's brow lay the deep shadow of her young grief.\n\nGradually her eyelids closed, and her head sank gently to the old\nking's shoulder. He placed his arm tenderly round the slumbering girl,\nand stretched out his right hand towards the lofty glacier.\n\nThen the storm-song in its icy clefts grew suddenly still, but the\nmoonbeams still played around its jagged peaks; like glistening\nserpents they moved across the glassy sea, and then flowed slowly in a\nbroad shining stream down on the crystal road. The mountain torrent\nmeanwhile checked its thunder, and moved more gently on its rocky way.\n\nThe night that hung above the mountain seemed but a pleasant twilight,\nand through the mild, soft air a bell tinkled gently now and then from\nthe night pasture where the cattle lay at rest. All was peace. Nothing\nstirred save the summer breeze and the golden starlight, which\nventured near to kiss the tear-stained cheek of the maiden who lay in\nsweet forgetfulness of sorrow on the old king's arm.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now it was once more morning, and Vreneli's cheek grew pale as she\nthought of the sorrowful parting with him whom she had once called her\nTony. But she was determined to do her duty to the very last, so she\nled her herds to the pasture, by the side of which the road ran, that\nshe might be at hand to tend them while waiting by the wayside for\nTony and his bride.\n\nThe sun rose higher and higher, and the minutes of painful waiting\nseemed hours to the poor girl. Suddenly voices and loud laughter\nsounded in her ear, and soon two figures appeared from round the rock.\nFor the first time since the morning when she brought the herds up the\nmountain Tony stood face to face with the poor orphan whose life's\nhappiness he had ruined, and he started as he looked into the face so\nbeautiful, but deadly pale. For one moment he remembered his oath.\nThen the rich bride at his side cried mockingly--\"I suppose this is\nthe servant girl of whom your father spoke, who had the presumption to\ndream of becoming a rich farmer's wife? Fancy the little beggar\nentertaining such an idea!\"\n\nThe scornful words cut deep into Vreneli's crushed heart.\n\n\"I should never have thought of it myself,\" she said, sadly; \"it was\nTony who wished it, because he loved me so that my poverty seemed no\nobstacle.\"\n\n\"Oh! indeed, Tony,\" said the bride, haughtily, \"that is rather\ndifferent from what you told me yesterday evening. Did you not tell me\nthat you had never troubled your head about her, and that you had\nalways wished to marry me? Tell this girl that she lies, or if you\ncannot do that, then you are free to choose this beggar still. I have\nplenty of suitors left!\"\n\nTony grew red with shame and vexation, but he did not vent his anger\non the haughty bride, but on poor innocent Vreneli. \"You lie, girl,\"\nhe cried; \"I never made you any promise; I never loved you!\"\n\n\"Tony,\" answered Vreneli gently, \"do not bring needless guilt on your\nhead. Have you forgotten your oath beneath the lonely cross on the\nmountain? But I am not angry with you for forsaking me. Perhaps your\nparents persuaded you to do it; but I could not refrain from coming to\nsay farewell, and to wish you happiness and prosperity.\"\n\n\"Keep your farewell and your wishes to yourself!\" cried Tony, white\nwith anger and shame; \"you were a fool, if you took my words in\nearnest. I and a beggar like you!\"\n\nWith a loud mocking laugh he turned away, gave his arm to his bride,\nand passed on without a word of farewell.\n\nVreneli looked after him in speechless amazement. The wise king was\nright, then; she had met but a new blow, and this one more crushing\nthan the first. She turned, and saw behind her King Laurin, who had\nbeen an unseen witness of Tony's shameful treachery. His eyes glowed,\nbut he uttered not a word. Vreneli stooped again to raise his hands to\nher trembling lips. \"I am ready to follow you!\" she said in a low\nvoice.\n\nThen the rock opened before them; Vreneli gave a farewell look at the\nmidday sun, then, led by King Laurin's hand, she entered the magic\nkingdom of the dwarfs.\n\nThat very moment an avalanche was set free from the snow-clad slopes\nof the glacier, rolled down with angry thunder, and at the cross where\nonce Tony had sworn faithful love to Vreneli it overtook him and his\nheartless bride, and buried them so deep that their bodies were never\nfound. Thus King Laurin avenged his adopted daughter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nVreneli had found a home, and, instead of the one worthless heart that\nshe had lost, a thousand hearts beat true to her in unchanging love.\n\nKing Laurin loved her as he had once loved his own lost child, and she\nreturned his affection with all the warmth of her young heart, while\nthe little dwarfs obeyed her every wish with that cheerful eagerness\nwith which they had once served their lost princess.\n\nShe tended the rose-garden beside the king's crystal palace with such\nloving care that it bloomed once more as in the days in which the\nmagic-mighty hand of the princess had moved among its fairy blossoms,\nand the sweet fragrance that the roses breathed into her very soul\nhealed every wound of disappointed love.\n\nShe did not miss the sunlight in this fairy kingdom, for the mild\nradiance of unseen stars lit it day and night; she never longed for\nearth, for here was unchanging spring; warm breezes kissed her brow,\nand the wild chamois, shy dwellers of the mountain solitudes, came up\nin friendly confidence, and let her stroke them with her snow-white\nhand.\n\nMany a time on starry nights she went by King Laurin's side out to the\nglacier peaks, to look around upon the slumbering land. Her eye, made\nkeen by the light of the fairy world, pierced the distance and the\ndarkness of night, and she gazed, even unaided by any \"magic ring,\"\nfar beyond the boundaries which limit human vision. And what had once\ndriven her from the region of sunlight she saw always and\neverywhere--sorrow, injustice, and untruth.\n\nAnd when she looked into many a joyless cottage and many a sorrowful\nheart, she would turn to the old king by her side, kiss his hand with\nloving reverence, and say, smiling--\"Come, King Laurin, let us go back\nto our home, to our peaceful kingdom, where tears and guilt and\nfickleness are all unknown.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Dwarf of Venice.\n\n[Illustration: The Dwarf of Venice takes his Departure for his Native\nLand.]\n\n\nEvening was falling with the mild beauty of spring on the mountains\nand pasture-lands of the Tyrol. The latest sunbeams which streamed\ndown from the lofty glacier bore the tones of the vesper bell through\nthe quiet village street, and floated over the brook and in at the\nopen windows of a substantial farm-house which stood at the end of\nthe little valley. A neatly carved balcony surrounded the house, the\nwindow-panes gleamed like mirrors, and the orderly arrangements of the\nfarm-yard showed the owner to be a man of some wealth.\n\nAt the table in the oak-panelled sitting-room sat the rich farmer\nhimself, but in spite of his possessions he seemed discontented and\nunhappy, for between his brows was a deep frown, and his eyes were\ndark and lowering. Opposite him sat his beautiful young wife, whose\nsoft eyes looked anxiously into her husband's face. On her lap she\nheld her only child, a lovely little girl, with eyes as blue as the\nflax blossom, and hair that shone like gold: she folded her little\nhands, as her mother did, as long as the vesper bell continued to call\nto prayer; but her eyes looked longingly, now on the pancakes that lay\npiled on the bright pewter plate, now casting a friendly glance on the\nboy that sat at the furthest end of the table, with his hands folded\nin devout reverence.\n\nIt was Hans, the son of a poor relation, to whom the rich farmer, with\nunwonted generosity, had granted a place in his house and at his\ntable, and who in return had to drive the goats every day up to the\nhighest pastures on the mountain, to places inaccessible to other\nherds. He had just returned with his nimble charge, and had brought to\nlittle Anneli on her mother's knee a bunch of alproses, for he dearly\nloved the child.\n\nThe bell had ceased ringing, the hands were unclasped, and the mother\nbegan to help the delicate pancakes. There was a gentle knocking at\nthe door, and in walked a little man in a sombre and threadbare\ngarment. His back was bent, either with the weight of years or by the\nwallet which hung from his shoulder; his hair was silver grey; but the\ndark shining eyes told that in this decrepit body lived a strong\nunconquered spirit.\n\n\"Good evening, sir,\" said the little man humbly; \"might I beg you for\na bit of supper, for I am starving, and for a night's rest on your\nhaystack, for I am tired to death.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said the farmer angrily; \"do you take my house for a\nbeggar's tavern? if so, I am sorry your sight is so bad. You may seek\nelsewhere, for you will not find what you want here!\"\n\nThe dwarf looked in astonishment on the master of the house, who,\nregardless of the hospitable customs of the country, could thus turn a\npoor man away from his door; but the farmer took no notice of his\nsurprise, nor of his wife's looks of entreaty.\n\n\"No, wife,\" he said harshly, \"this time you shall not have your own\nway. I will not keep open house for all the beggars in the land. Did I\nnot give in to you about that boy over there? You might be content\nwith that.\"\n\nPoor Hans blushed crimson at this allusion to his poverty, but when\nthe little man turned away with a sigh and left the inhospitable\nthreshold, sympathy with the poor old man overcame his fear of his\nemployer; he seized the plate with the pancakes, and the great piece\nof bread which the farmer's wife had just given him, and ran out of\nthe room.\n\n\"What's the boy after?\" asked the farmer angrily.\n\n\"He is just doing what we ought to have done,\" answered the wife, with\ngentle reproach in her fair face; \"he is sharing his meal with the\npoor man.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" growled the man, \"birds of a feather flock together.\"\n\nMeantime the old man was creeping with weary steps across the yard,\nand had just reached the gate when Hans seized him by the arm.\n\n\"Here, good little man,\" said he in mingled pity and fear--\"here is my\nsupper; come, sit down there on the well and eat.\"\n\nThe old man's dark eyes rested with a pleased look on the boy. \"And\nwhat hast thou for thyself, child, if thou givest away thine own\nshare?\"\n\n\"Oh! that does not matter,\" said Hans unconcernedly, while he led the\ndwarf to the stone wall which surrounded the well. \"I am not very\nhungry, and the farmer's good wife would give me more if I asked her.\"\n\nThe old man sat down and began to eat, while Hans watched with delight\nhow his aged friend enjoyed it. Soon the plate was empty, and the\nlittle man rose with thanks to set out on further wanderings, and to\nseek a night's shelter under a more hospitable roof.\n\nHans went with him to the gate, and whispered hastily, \"Do not think\nill of the farmer for having refused you; he is not always so\nchurlish, but to-day something has occurred to vex him--he was not\nre-elected as burgomaster of the village, but his bitterest foe was\nsuccessful; that has soured him, and so every one who comes in his way\nmust suffer for it. But listen, little man; to the right there, on\nthe rock over which the path leads to the mountain, stands the\nhay-loft with its roof touching the stone. That's where I sleep, and\nif you climb a little way up the rock, and wait there till I go to\nbed, I will open the trap-door, and you can creep in to me among the\nhay.\"\n\n\"Thou art a good boy,\" said the old man; \"I will do as thou sayest,\nand wait for thee there upon the rock.\"\n\nIt was night when Hans was at last allowed to seek his couch. More\nnimbly than usual he sprang up the slender ladder to the hay-loft, and\nthen he quickly unfastened the trap-door which opened on the roof.\n\nThe full moon stood large and bright above the mountain, and its pale\nbeams played round the jagged brow of the glacier, and wove a veil of\nsilver round the beech woods that adorned the mountain landscape.\n\nThe old man was sitting silently on a ledge of rock; his hands lay\nfolded on his lap, his head was bare, and the night wind moved lightly\nthrough his grey tresses. But the old man heeded it not. His eyes\ngazed fixedly on the night sky, as if they could, like the seers of\nolden time, decipher the records of the stars, and his features were\nennobled by such a look of majesty that the boy gazed at him in\nastonishment, not daring to disturb him. At last he said softly, \"Do\nnot be angry, sir, at my troubling you, but the night is growing cold,\nand the dew is beginning to fall. Would you not be better in a warm\nbed?\"\n\nThe old man sighed, as if his thoughts returned unwillingly from their\nflight. Then he nodded pleasantly to the boy, went up to the\ntrap-door, and let himself down upon the floor of the loft. He lay\ndown silently on the fragrant hay, and was just about to close his\nweary eyes when he felt the boy's warm hand passing over him.\n\nThe little fellow had taken off his jacket, and was now carefully\nspreading it over the old man that the night wind might not hurt him.\nWith a silent smile the dwarf accepted the service of love, and soon\ntheir deep breathing told that slumber had fallen on the eyes of both.\nSeveral hours had passed by, when something like a flash of lightning\nwoke the boy. He rose quickly; the trap-door was open, and the old man\nwas rummaging busily in his wallet; he had just taken out of it a very\nbright hand-mirror, and the light of the moon, reflected with a flash\nfrom the crystal, had awakened the boy.\n\nThe dwarf now threw his sack over his shoulder, took the mirror in his\nhand, and began to go through the trap-door to the rock.\n\nHans could bear it no longer. \"Oh, sir,\" he begged, \"take me with you\ninto the mountains, for that you are bound thither the mirror in your\nhand tells me. My dear mother has often told me about the mountain\nmirror, by means of which one can see into the depths of the earth,\nand watch the metal gleaming and glittering in its veins. And although\nyou have not said so, yet I know that you are one of the mysterious\nstrangers who come from far-off lands to seek the gold of our\nmountains, which is hidden from our dim eyes. Oh, take me with you!\"\n\nThe old man turned his face to the boy. \"That is idle curiosity, my\nson,\" he said gravely, and his eyes shone almost as brightly as the\nmirror had a few minutes before; \"stay at home and tend thy herds, as\na good boy should.\"\n\n\"Oh no, sir,\" begged Hans earnestly; \"I have always longed to see the\nwonders of the mountains, and I will be quiet and silent as is\nbefitting in presence of such marvels, and I will help you and serve\nyou to the best of my power. Take me with you!\"\n\nThe old man thought a minute, glanced searchingly into the boy's eyes,\nwho had come nearer to him in his earnestness, and then he\nsaid--\"Come, then, and remember thy promise.\"\n\nThey stepped out together, shut the trap-door behind them, and\nclambered up to the top of the rock, from which the broad footpath led\nup to the heights and abysses of the mountain. The moon poured its\nmystic radiance down from the deep blue sky of night, and the young\nfoliage of the beech wood gleamed like silver as it fluttered in the\nbreeze. Not a footstep was heard on the mossy ground, only their\nshadows glided in company with the lonely wanderers, who in silent\nhaste pressed on deeper into the recesses of the mountains. The wood\nlay behind them, and the path led to a ravine, at the bottom of which\na raging torrent rushed; they stood now at its edge.\n\nNone save Tyrol's boldest mountain climbers know this path, and even\nthey, though provided with ice-shoes and alpenstocks, tread its steep\nascent with trembling hearts. But the little man seemed to heed no\ndanger; fearlessly he set his foot upon the highest point, and\nsecurely, as if on level ground, he went down the side of the\nprecipice, where one false step would have been certain death. The boy\nfollowed him with beating heart. The moonlight broke through the\noverhanging bushes and the lofty rocks overhead, and made its way down\ninto the ravine.\n\nThe wanderers stood now at the edge of the raging torrent, and walked\nalong it to the high rock over which the glacier stream fell into its\nrocky bed, and which seemed to them, as it stood veiled in night, like\none of the giants of old who, the old legends tell us, were turned to\nstone. Even in the distance they had seen the moving cloud of vapour\nabove its head, which hovered in the light of the full moon, like a\ngiant eagle, above the rushing waters. The milk-white billows of the\ntorrent that rushed down from this height rolled in the moonlight like\nsilvery tresses down from the rock's giant head. The old man walked\nquietly through the noise and foam round the foot of the rock and into\na narrow cleft, which was the opening into the heart of the mountain;\nhere he laid down his wallet.\n\nNow, now the boy's heart beat even more loudly than it had done amid\nthe dangers of the abyss, when the old man silently beckoned to him.\nHe held the mountain mirror in his hand: Hans stepped timidly to his\nside, and looked into the magic glass. Mists impenetrable as the\ncurtain which parts the present from the future rolled over its\ncrystal surface, but they became lighter and lighter, and soon the\ninterior of the mountain lay open before the eyes of the delighted\nchild. Through the wide rocky gates his eye pierced into a land of\nwonders such as are never seen on earth. Through the blue air rose the\npinnacles of a crystal palace; the golden roof and the windows of\nprecious stone shone in the splendour of another sun; and in the lofty\nstar-spangled hall sat King Laurin, the hoary king of the dwarfs, on\nhis emerald throne. Round him stood his subjects, the wise and aged\ndwarfs, who had long since forsaken the wicked world to lead an active\nbut peaceful life here in their magic kingdom, where the malice and\ninquisitiveness of mortals could not come to disturb them. They\nlistened with heads bent in reverent attention to the words of their\nking, and then went in different directions to obey his commands; but\nLaurin descended from his throne, laid aside crown and sceptre, and\nwent down the golden steps to the rose-garden, which his beloved\ndaughter, the only one left to him of all his circle of blooming\nchildren, tended with skilful hand. The lovely maiden was walking\namong the garden paths, tying up the young roses and moistening their\nroots with water from the golden vessel in her hand, when she saw her\nroyal father coming. She hastened to meet him, took his strong hand\nwith respectful tenderness, and led him joyfully through the blooming\nbeds. Meantime, the little dwarfs had set busily to work: some were\nleading their herds of chamois through a secret gate out to the\nmountains of the upper world, that they might there enjoy earthly air\nand light; others hastened to the clear silvery springs which watered\nthis realm, to guide their waters of blessing up to the meadows\nand woods of the children of men, that they might yield a more\nabundant increase; others, again, took pickaxes, mallets, and dark\nlanterns, all made of precious metal, and went into the heart of the\nsurrounding mountains to bring their hidden wealth to light, and to\nincrease still more the royal treasure, countless though their king's\nhoards already were.\n\n[Illustration: HANS SEES KING LAURIN'S KINGDOM IN THE MAGIC MIRROR. F.\nC., p. 62.]\n\nGlittering veins of gold streaked the stone, and out of the dark rock\nbubbled springs, whose clear waters flashed and sparkled, as if they\nbore onward with them grains of the precious and much longed-for\nmetal. In a dark grotto lay something white and motionless like a\nslumbering eagle; but at the flash of the lanterns it roused itself,\nand the white serpent queen lifted her gem-crowned head. The drops\nthat trickled down the walls of the grotto gleamed like jewels in the\nlight of her diadem; but the serpent bent her head again, and coiled\nherself up for further sleep, for she knew well that the little\ndwarfs, unlike the robber sons of men, would never stretch forth their\nhands to seize the jewel on her brow. And there, at yonder spring,\nknelt a dark form busily engaged in gathering the gold sand from the\nbottom of the water, and putting it into the wallet beside him; but\nthe figure could not be recognised in the shadow which lay deep at\nthat spot. But when some of the industrious little men drew near with\ntheir flickering lanterns, the man at the spring turned his head and\nnodded to them a friendly greeting, which they returned as if he was\nan old and dear acquaintance.\n\nThen the boy recognised by his grey locks and his dark eyes full of\ngravity and wisdom the old man who had been showing him the mountain\nmirror. He raised his eyes in astonishment from the magic glass, and\nnow for the first time he perceived that he held the mirror in his own\nhand, and that the old man was no longer by his side.\n\n\"Ah! how thoughtless I am; I promised to help him, and now the kind\nold man is tiring himself, unaided, with his heavy work,\" said Hans in\nself-reproach. Then he hid the magic mirror in his bosom and turned\ntowards the hole which formed the entrance to the treasures of the\nmountains. But just as he was stooping to creep in, the old man\nhimself came out, bearing on his shoulder the shabby wallet with its\npriceless contents. \"Forgive me, sir,\" begged Hans in a tone of true\nsorrow, \"for having kept my promise so ill, but my mind was\nspell-bound by the wonders I beheld.\"\n\n\"It matters not, my son,\" replied the old man mildly; \"I have always\nhad to work alone and without help, and I will continue to do so. All\nI ask of thee is a night's rest on the hay and a bite of bread when\nthou canst spare it. But come now! Seest thou how the cloud above the\nwaterfall is gleaming rosy red? It is the reflection of the dawn. I\nwould not that thy herds should wait for thee, and thy harsh master\nfind thee behindhand with thy work. So let us hasten!\"\n\nAnd back they hurried on the dangerous path by which they had come;\nthe beech leaves gleamed in the first light of the new day as they\npassed through the wood, and the thrushes were just beginning their\nmorning song.\n\nSoon they stood on the ledge of rock, and a few minutes brought them\nto the trap-door. The old man slipped in to snatch a little slumber\nbefore he began another day's wanderings, but the boy could not think\nof lying in his dark loft after all the splendour he had left behind,\nso he went to let out his goats and take them to the mountain. But\nto-day he could not bear to stay as usual in the tiny cottage where he\nperformed the light duties of the mountain herdsman, while the goats\nclambered alone up the steep walls of rock in search of juicy plants,\nand came back uncalled at the sound of the evening bell. To-day he\nclimbed with them up to the highest peaks, for he hoped to find some\nopening through which he might see into the magic kingdom which the\nmountain mirror had held before his view.\n\nIt was, indeed, a wondrous land which stretched far and wide before\nhim in fresh and fragrant beauty. It was his native land shining in\nunimagined splendour. Crystal lakes gleamed in the distance, and the\nsnow-crowned mountain peaks glowed in the morning sunlight like the\nroses in King Laurin's magic garden. But there was no palace here, no\nlovely maiden among her flowers, and no old and yet nimble dwarfs. But\nthere, far away, scarcely visible even to the sharpest eye, a little\nblack dot moved along the winding mountain path, and the flashes which\nnow and then darted from it over to the rock where Hans was standing\namid his goats told him that it was the old man with the magic mirror.\n\n\"Oh! how I wish it was evening,\" sighed the boy, looking longingly at\nthe sun, which had scarcely run a quarter of its appointed course. At\nlast it was evening, and herd-boy and herds hastened homewards. The\nboy did not stay long in the house. With a great piece of bread and\nmeat in his hand he climbed the steep ladder to the hay-loft, and\nfound to his joy the old man there already, waiting to receive the\nfood with humble thanks. Hans lost no time in going to sleep, that the\nlonged-for hour of the night journey might come the more quickly; and\nwhen again a sudden light flashed across his eyes, he opened them in\ndelight and rose. But it was not the brilliance of the magic mirror\nthat had awakened him, but the beam of the morning sun. He looked\nround in astonishment; he had slept so soundly that he had lost his\nexpected journey. It was now clear daylight, and the goats were loudly\ncalling their young master to his duty. He gave a hasty glance at his\ncompanion, who still lay in deep slumber. Whether he had slept thus\nsince yesterday evening, or whether he was resting after his nightly\nlabours, Hans had no time to ask. Quickly he ran down the ladder into\nthe farm-yard, where all was life; then he took his shepherd's bag,\nwhich hung behind the door, already filled with the daily portion of\nfood, and hurried with his impatient flock up towards the mountain.\n\nAgain he looked wistfully from his high rocky seat down on the\nblooming meadows, and recognised the little man with the magic mirror\nin the remote distance, and determined to keep his eyes open the whole\nnight. But when evening came, and he sought his couch, scarcely had he\nlain down by the side of his aged friend, when deep sleep fell on his\neyelids, and left them only at the glance of the morning sun. Haste\nand timidity always prevented him from disturbing the old man in his\nsleep, and telling him once more the fervent wishes of his heart; and\nso every morning he bore his unfulfilled desires up with him to the\nmountain. Thus summer passed, and when one morning the first rough\nbreath of autumn chilled the boy's brow, there was a rustling behind\nthe rock on which he sat, and the old man, who had been his companion\nfor so many months, stood before him. The wallet on his shoulder was\nfull, and in his hand he held a staff as if he was ready to return to\nhis distant home, for so indeed he was.\n\n\"I come, my son,\" said the little man with his old grave kindliness,\n\"to thank thee for shelter and food, and to ask thee if thou hast any\nwish which I can gratify.\"\n\nHans shouted with joy; but the old man raised his finger gravely--he\nseemed to read into the boy's very soul.\n\n\"Neglect not sacred duties for the sake of idle curiosity,\" said he in\na tone of warning, and the boy blushed and was silent. Then Hans\nthought of his good mother down in the valley, whose cottage he passed\nevery morning and evening, and found the poor woman always at the\nwindow waiting to whisper a loving word, a motherly blessing to her\nonly child. But this morning her eyes had been dim with trouble, and\nwhen he asked what was wrong she had answered with a sigh--\n\n\"Nothing, my good child, that thou canst alter; I am only thinking of\nthe approach of winter, and how the cold wind will whistle through my\nbattered cottage, and how I have no warm clothing to protect me from\nthe cold.\"\n\nAll this flashed like lightning through the boy's mind; tremblingly he\nclasped his hands, and a prayer for help fell from his lips.\n\n\"That is right, my son,\" said the old man kindly, handing the boy a\nlittle coin. \"Despise this not for its mean appearance, and never use\nit foolishly; and when I return next year, let me find thy hand as\nopen and thy heart as pure as I have found them now. Farewell.\"\n\nHe nodded kindly to the boy, took the cloak from his shoulder, spread\nit on the rock, and placed himself on it, staff in hand, and with the\nburden on his shoulders. Immediately the mantle rose, and hovered\nbefore the boy's astonished eyes, bearing the little man up into the\nair. The old man waved farewell from his airy height; then he pointed\nsouthwards with his staff, and swift as an arrow flew the magic mantle\ntowards his far-off home. The boy watched the wonderful journey with\ndevoutly folded hands. Like the beat of eagle's wings was the motion\nof the dark garment through the white clouds, and the little man kept\nhis balance perfectly, he guiding his flight with the staff in his\nleft hand, while the magic mirror in his right gleamed in the beams of\nthe morning sun like the diadem of carbuncles on the head of the\nserpent queen. The last flash died away at last, and the boy sat once\nmore alone on his rocky seat, dreamily gazing on the gold coin in his\nhand. It had evidently passed through many a hand before, for it\nneeded a sharp eye to trace the impression on its surface; on one side\nthe lion of San Marco stretched his royal limbs, and with raised head\nkept guard over Venice, the Queen of the Sea, whose foot the Adriatic\nkisses with its caressing waves, wedded to her anew each year by the\nDoge's ring. The other side bore the name of one of the rulers of that\nproud Republic. It was scarcely legible, and it had been long eclipsed\nby a younger glory.\n\nThe boy, indeed, had no key to the understanding of the image and\ninscription, but he felt confident the gift out of such a hand must\nbring blessing in spite of its mean appearance, and so he kept the\ncoin carefully in his pocket. To-day he started joyfully at the tone\nof the evening bell, said his prayer with more than usual fervour, and\nhastened with winged feet after his thriving flock.\n\n\"Just look, dear mother, what I have brought you,\" he cried joyfully\nthrough the window of the cottage, showing the old man's gift. \"Do not\ndespise it,\" he begged earnestly, as he saw his mother's doubting\nsmile; \"he told me not to despise it, the kind, powerful man who gave\nit to me. Put it with your savings, and let us see what will happen.\"\nAs he spoke, his eyes shone so brightly with joy and confidence that\nhis good mother could not bear to vex him by her doubts; she promised\nto lay the gold piece in the drawer, and bade her boy good night with\na loving smile.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTen springs had passed over Tyrol's mountains and valleys, and there\nhad been many changes in the time. The young trees had grown tall and\nleafy; the children had become men and women. Hans was no longer a\ngoat-herd, but a clever senner, as they call the mountain shepherds in\nthe Tyrol, and now the farmer's herds had been entrusted to his sole\ncare during the rest of their stay on the higher pastures, to which he\nhad led them early in spring. The setting sun glowed on the lofty\nglacier before him, and its reflection flowed down to the night\npasture, and hung like a golden veil over the pine trees, beneath\nwhose wide branches the herds had lain down for their nightly rest.\nBut Hans stood before his cottage, which he had entered to-day for the\nfirst time as senner, and gazed joyfully on his new charge.\n\nThe valleys were already slumbering in the evening shadows, but the\npeaks of the glacier were aglow with purple, and reminded the young\nman of an image that he had long borne in his soul with secret\nlonging; he thought now, as he had not done for months, of the\nrose-garden before the crystal palace, and of the little man who had\nbeen his yearly companion in the farmer's hay-loft, and who, every\nautumn, had climbed the mountain side to say farewell to him, and then\nwith his wallet full of gold had returned on his magic mantle to his\ndistant home. He had never asked the old man for a glance into the\nmountain mirror since he had received that grave warning about idle\ncuriosity, and these memories of King Laurin's realm had gradually\nfaded. But his reverence for the strange old man had remained\nunchanged, and every day he had shared his supper with him out of\ngratitude for the parting gift which Hans had long ago taken home to\nhis mother. He had not hoped or promised too much. With the little\nman's dim old coin blessing had come into the hut of poverty, and the\nmoney in the drawer had never grown less. There was always some left,\neven when they erected on the site of the tumble-down cottage a firmly\nbuilt and comfortable house, and though after that they bought many a\nmuch needed piece of furniture and warm clothing for the winter. There\nwas no need now to creep in secretly at even to receive the gifts of\nthe kind-hearted farmer's wife without her miserly husband's\nknowledge. They were able first to keep one cow, and then two, and\nthen--Hans looked joyfully round on the slumbering herds--four fine\ncows now rested there, his mother's property, which he had been\nallowed to lead up to the mountain pastures to graze with his master's\ncattle. The churlish farmer, indeed, had never granted him this\nfavour, but his unkindly eyes had closed for the last sleep the autumn\nbefore, and the eyes which now shone in the farm-house were so mild\nand lovely that it was a pleasure to obey their glance. What were\nthese eyes like? Hans tried to remember as he gazed at the glacier,\nwhose purple had changed to a pale rosy hue. Yes, yes, now he knows.\nThe eyes of Anneli, whom he had loved from childhood as his own dear\nlittle sister, were just like the eyes of that fair maiden who used to\nwalk in the rose-garden by the dwarf king's side, and this brought him\nback to the beginning of his reverie.\n\nAnd now he began to wonder if the little man, if he returned, would\nrest at night in the farmer's hay-loft, or, according to his old\ncustom, climb up the mountain to seek him here. Then he heard, not far\noff, something like the sigh of a weary wanderer. The youth's sharp\near was directed attentively towards the path which led from the\nvillage to the senner's cottage, and which was now veiled in the\ndouble shadow of the trees and of the falling night. Yes, it was\ncoming from that direction, and immediately Hans was ready to offer\nhelp. He took his lantern in his hand, seized his alpenstock, and ran\ndown the path between the rocks and the dew-covered bushes. He had not\nfar to seek, for there, on a stone by the wayside, sat a dwarf in a\ndark and shabby garment, and a well-remembered wallet hung from his\nbent shoulders. The young man cast a hasty glance at the figure, and\nthen shouted aloud with delight. It was the old man of whom he had\njust been thinking, and it was with grateful emotion that he found\nthat his old friend had not forgotten him, but that, in spite of the\ndarkness and his increasing infirmities, he had toiled up the path to\nthe mountains.\n\n\"Good evening, sir,\" said he joyfully, bending as reverently to kiss\nthe dwarf's withered hand as if he had been a lord of the land. \"You\nmust be tired; take my arm, and let me carry your sack; that's the\nway. And now, courage for a hundred steps or so, and we are at the end\nof our journey.\" And with such care and reverence as are shown rather\nto great princes than to such a poor little dwarf, Hans led the old\nman over the last difficulties of the mountain path, and over the\nthreshold of his hut. Then he hastened to take the covering off his\ncouch of moss and spread it over the wooden bench before the hearth,\nthat the old man might rest his tired limbs on a softer seat. Next he\nkindled a fire, and made a fritter which the senner who had preceded\nhim had taught him how to make. He had no drink to offer but good,\nsweet, new milk; but Anneli's hand had provided richly for the wants\nof the new senner, and the little wooden cupboard in the corner was\nstocked with good things from the farm-house. The young man searched\nin it joyfully for something dainty for his guest, and felt proud and\nhappy in his unwonted work. A white cloth was spread over the coarse\noaken table, and on it was placed the delicate fritter, with a plate\nof eggs and bacon sending forth fragrance by its side. Proudly the\nyoung man brought his guest to the well-set table, and both enjoyed\nits good things in silent comfort. Then Hans led the old man, tenderly\nas a child his beloved father, to his own couch of moss, and when the\nlittle dwarf sank on it with a look of love and gratitude, the young\nman spread the covering over him as he used to spread his jacket years\nago in the hay-loft. Then he sat down before the fire that the\nflickering flame might not disturb the old man, and when at last his\ndeep breathing told that he was asleep, the youth rose and went out\ninto the open air. The moss-couch in the senner's cottage was not\nbroad, and Hans must not spoil the old man's comfort, so he went to\nthe night pasture, where the herds lay sleeping, and sank to rest in\nthe soft moss beneath the aged pines. They let their evergreen\nbranches fall over him protectingly, and the long moss that hung from\nthem served as covering to the youthful sleeper, while the glacier\ntorrents in the distant ravines sang his lullaby.\n\nThe days passed by in keener enjoyment than even his boyish dreams had\npictured. The hours were bright with happy sunshine, in spite of the\ndouble burden of work which he, contrary to the custom of his\npredecessors, had undertaken in the consciousness of his own powers\nand fidelity. And when the day had flown by with its quick succession\nof pleasure and toil, the evening hour would come when the beloved\nguest sat at the fire and at the oaken table, and sometimes the\nhitherto so silent lips would let fall words of grave wisdom.\n\nThen came the hour of rest, calling the old man to the moss-bed under\nthe senner's roof; but Hans slipped out when the fire was dead to the\nshelter of the old pine trees, and slept in their protection, lulled\nto slumber by the song of the glacier stream.\n\nOne warm spring evening, when the jagged ice-crown of the glacier\ngleamed with a bluish light beneath the full moon's beams, he did not\nturn towards his soft couch beneath the trees, but hastened to the\ngrove of pines which rose above him on a steep wall of rock. With a\nsharp axe on his shoulder, gleaming brightly in the moonlight, he\nstepped along the well-known path across the green meadows to the dark\nravine which separated him from the wood on the rocky height. Was the\ndream of his childhood now really fulfilled--was he going to look\nthrough the magic mirror into the heart of the mountains? Oh no. The\nspirit world had lost its power over his soul. His thoughts and\ndesires belonged now more than ever to real life.\n\nA few days ago Anneli had come up with her mother to the senner's\ncottage to see about the produce of the mountain farm, as the farmers\nare in the habit of doing when the herds have been some time on the\nhigh pastures; and while the mother inspected the dairy, tried the\ncheese, and tasted the balls of butter, Anneli stood outside with Hans\nand the grazing herds, and chatted with him pleasantly as in days gone\nby.\n\n\"And do you remember, good Hans, what day to-morrow is?\" she asked\nwith an arch look in her eyes, when Hans, after thinking in vain,\nshook his head.\n\n\"Do you not know?\" she said, laughing. \"Why, Hans, to-morrow is the\nfirst of May, and I am curious to know if I shall have a May-pole\nraised for me.\"\n\n\"You, Anneli!\" cried Hans, looking in astonishment on her beautiful\nface--\"you will have many a tree; they call you already 'the pearl of\nthe valley,' and the rich farmers' sons will fight for the honour,\" he\nadded in a low sorrowful tone.\n\nThis tone thrilled Anneli's heart; she leant towards him with innocent\nconfidence, and said with emotion--\"Let them, Hans; but you know that\nI shall take pleasure in no May-pole but _one_.\"\n\nIt was these words which were driving Hans now in the silence of night\nthrough the dangerous ravine and the foaming torrent, and up the steep\nprecipice to the pine wood. Here he felled the chosen tree skilfully,\ntore the bark from the smooth stem, and bore the trunk carefully on\nhis shoulder through shrubs and narrow mountain ways down into the\nvalley. His path was dark and difficult, and jutting rocks often\nhemmed his footsteps; but his love for Anneli kept him from feeling\nweary, and the thought of her joy always gave him new strength. Thus,\nafter hours of toil, he arrived at last in the village, and stood\nbefore Anneli's door. Then he took a packet carefully out of his\nshepherd's bag, and with the prettiest ribbons which his mother had\nbeen able to find in the nearest town he adorned the tree; and that\nAnneli's heart might make no mistake, he tied at the top a bunch of\nalproses, such as he used to bring every evening when he was the\ngoat-herd and she a lovely little child. Then he planted the pole\nfirmly in the ground right before Anneli's window, and with a glance\nat the bright ribbons fluttering gaily in the wind like the streamers\nfrom a ship, he turned joyfully towards the mountain and his\nslumbering herds.\n\nIt was evening, and the farewell sunbeams shed their gold on the\nmountain meadows and the senner's dark flowing hair, as he went with\npail and stool to milk the herds just returning from the pasture. Well\nhe loved the mountain, the herds, and the evenings full of sunset\nsplendour and of peace. But to-day he had no eye for the glory around\nhim; he thought of the valley and of Anneli, who was to join to-day\nfor the first time in the village dance, and who would be led by some\nricher hand. Hitherto, he had thought himself passing rich; to-day,\nfor the first time, he sighed over his poverty. He sat down beside his\nfavourite, Brownie, and began to milk; but in the middle of his work\nhis hands dropped on his lap, and he began to wonder who besides\nhimself had set up trees for Anneli, and whether she had known his\namong them all. Surely she must have. The bunch of alproses at the top\nwould tell her, and he smiled to himself, and began again to milk.\n\nThen a well-known voice called to him from the cottage, \"Hallo, Hans!\nwhere are you hiding? I have been searching the whole place for you.\"\n\nHans shouted back an answer, and there appeared above the hedge the\nface of Seppi, the only one of the farm-servants who did not grudge\nHans his place in Anneli's favour, and who had always remained his\nfirm and faithful friend.\n\n\"Well, Seppi, what good news do you bring?\" asked Hans, with a feeling\nof presentiment. \"What brings you so late to the mountain?\"\n\n\"It is Anneli, self-willed girl,\" answered Seppi, laughing. \"She will\nnot go to the dance without you. Quick, quick, put on your best\nclothes. The fiddlers are ready, and the maidens waiting to be\nfetched. I will stay here in your place to-night.\" Hans darted up like\nan arrow and flew into the cottage, while Seppi took his seat beside\nthe cows, and went on with the unfinished work.\n\nIn a few minutes Hans appeared in holiday clothes, and in his hat a\ngarland and a ribbon like those on Anneli's May-pole. \"Now, Seppi,\ntake good care of the cattle,\" said he, coming back to the hedge. \"You\nhave known the beasts for years--ever since you were here for a while\nas under-senner. Good-bye.\" And he hurried off.\n\nBut suddenly he remembered the little man, and that he had not told\nSeppi about the expected guest. Notwithstanding his eagerness about\nAnneli and the evening's merry-making, he ran back and commended the\ndwarf to the care of his astonished friend. But now nothing kept him\nback. Swift as the chamois before the hunter he flew down the steep\npath, and reached the gate of the farm just as the festal procession\nwas moving along the village street to escort the \"pearl of the\nvalley\" to the dance.\n\nShe was waiting for him at the gate, and watching impatiently for his\ncoming. \"I am so glad you are here at last,\" she said, stretching out\nboth her hands towards him. \"You shall be my partner; I have chosen\nyou out of all the lads who have set up May-poles for me. Just look\nhow yours looks down on the other contemptible little things. Seppi,\nthe good fellow, went up to bring me the bunch of alproses and the\nribbon, that I might wear them for your sake.\"\n\nShe pointed smilingly to her fair head, which was gay with a sky-blue\nribbon, and to the bouquet at her breast. Hans looked at her in a\nrapture of delight, and grasped her dear hand more firmly, for the\nprocession had now reached the farm-house, and the youths who had set\nup May-poles in Anneli's honour came out from the rest and stood\nbefore her, that she might choose one as her partner in the dance. But\ngreat were the astonishment and envy of them all when they saw that\nthe former goat-herd had been preferred to them, and although they had\nto consent to this arrangement, yet poor Hans owned from this moment\na number more of bitter foes. But he neither thought of this nor\nfeared it; he led the \"pearl\" which had fallen to his lot out through\nthe gate, and his face shone with happy excitement as he joined the\nprocession, and led his fair partner to the linden-trees where the\ndance was to be.\n\n[Illustration: ANNELI SEES THE MAY-POLE ERECTED BY HANS.]\n\nHans had always counted himself a happy fellow, but as he now led the\nlovely Anneli in the merry dance beneath the green linden-trees, it\nseemed as if he had never known before what happiness meant, and his\nwhole past life he counted now as nothing. But this life offers no\nlasting happiness, and the purer it is the shorter is its reign.\nAnneli looked up at him with unconscious tenderness, and whispered\nthat she would not dance that night with any one but him. The maiden's\nsoftly spoken words reached the ear of Nazerl, the son of a rich\nneighbour; and anger and envy blazed forth in his soul.\n\n\"Anneli, you must dance once with me,\" he said, stepping up to her;\nbut his petition sounded more like an imperious command.\n\n\"You know, Nazerl,\" answered the girl, \"that Hans is my partner; you\nmust ask his consent.\" Now Hans was just bringing a glass to offer\nAnneli some refreshment.\n\n\"Listen, goat-boy,\" said the rich farmer's son haughtily to the poor\nsenner, \"I will let you know that I mean to dance now with Anneli.\"\nAnd he seized her hand.\n\nHans was of a peaceable disposition, and his new happiness had not\nmade him proud, but this taunt was too much for him.\n\n\"Let go her hand, Nazerl,\" he said quietly, though his voice trembled.\n\"She may not dance with you.\"\n\n\"May she not, indeed, you beggar?\" cried Nazerl; \"then take this,\" and\nhe struck Hans in the face with clenched fist.\n\nAnneli screamed, and poor Hans lost all control over himself; without\nthinking, he hurled the glass in his tormentor's face, and with a loud\ngroan Nazerl fell pale and bloody to the ground. Again a cry of terror\nescaped Anneli's lips, but it was not for the sake of the fallen\nNazerl, but for Hans, whose thoughtless deed must bring him into\ntrouble.\n\nThe music ceased, and all hastened to the motionless form that lay\nstretched on the grass to offer help, while Hans stood by in\nspeechless astonishment at his own mad act.\n\nThen he felt his hand seized, and Anneli's gentle voice whispered in\nhis ear, \"Flee, oh flee, dear Hans, at once, for a minute's delay may\nmake flight hopeless.\"\n\nBut when Hans still hesitated, she caught his arm and, unnoticed by\nthe others, drew him away till they stood at some distance from the\nlindens, and were hidden from their companions by the trees. Hans\nstill looked stunned and paralysed.\n\n\"Hans,\" she said more earnestly than before, laying her little hand\nupon his arm--\"Hans, listen to me and follow me. Flee as quickly as\nyou can, for all, all are against you, because I chose you in\npreference to them. Flee, and hide yourself somewhere till the noise\nof this is over and Nazerl is recovered.\"\n\n\"Ah, Anneli,\" answered Hans shuddering, \"he is dead! Did you not see\nhow pale and motionless he lay?\"\n\n\"Then there is all the more need for you to flee,\" said the maiden\ndecidedly; \"listen, they are coming; go, go,\" she urged anxiously.\n\n\"Farewell, Anneli. Do not be angry with me, and never forget poor\nHans,\" and he looked down at her with sorrowful eyes.\n\n\"Never, never, Hans,\" she said in a firm voice, for the experience of\nthe last few minutes had ripened her self-knowledge and her will. \"But\nyou will come back some day, guiltless and happy; I know you will. But\nnow go. They are coming to look for you.\"\n\nHe stooped, and, overcome with the sorrow of the moment, pressed a\nkiss on her sweet lips.\n\n\"Farewell, farewell, my Anneli,\" he whispered once more, and then he\nturned and fled like a hunted chamois. It was dark on the path along\nwhich he hastened, but darker in his soul. The short-lived happiness\nto which he had so joyfully opened his heart was gone, perhaps never\nto return; even the thought of Anneli's love, which she had so frankly\nrevealed to him, could not scatter the dark shadows.\n\nIf Nazerl was dead, then he was a murderer, and must remain so all his\nlife, no matter what might be his punishment and his repentance. He\nshuddered, and hastened trembling up the very path which his joyful\nfootsteps had pressed a few hours before, when his heart was full of\nvague but sweetest hopes.\n\nHow all, all had changed in so short a time!\n\nThe moon, which before had beamed almost with the golden light of day,\nseemed now as pale as Nazerl's face; the night wind moaned through the\ntrees like the sighs of a dying man, and the harp-like music of the\nglacier stream sounded like avenging thunder. Hans flew onwards,\ndespair in his heart, great drops of anguish on the brow so lately\ncrowned with calm content. There lay the night pasture. The moonbeams\nfell across it, and showed him the slumbering animals. He pressed his\nlips closer at the thought that he must say farewell to the herd that\nhad grown so dear to him.\n\nSoon he stood at the senner's cottage. He looked through the window.\nAll was peaceful as usual. The bed was still unoccupied, and the old\nman was not at the table; but Seppi was merrily turning the fritters\nand whistling a cheerful tune.\n\n\"Seppi, Seppi!\" cried poor Hans outside, as he knocked with trembling\nfinger against the panes.\n\nSeppi turned his head in surprise, and when he saw Hans standing out\nin the moonlight, he came to the window and drew back the bolt.\n\n\"What's the matter, Hans? Is anything wrong?\" he said hastily.\n\n\"Alas! yes,\" sighed Hans, and he told his friend in hurried words the\nmisfortune that had befallen him.\n\n\"The impudent fellow,\" cried Seppi angrily. \"You may be sure your\nreminder will not do him any harm; and as for his being dead, you\nknow, Hans, 'weeds wont die.' So don't be vexing yourself beyond\nmeasure. And are you going away? Where will you go?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Seppi,\" answered Hans sadly--\"as far as my feet will\ncarry me; away from my beloved country, perhaps for ever;\" and he\nwiped a tear from his cheek. \"But you must do me one kindness, that I\nmay go content. As soon as you can get down to the valley, go to my\ngood old mother, and tell her not to grieve too much. Tell her that I\nwill try to do right, though I must leave the mountains of the Tyrol;\nand beg Anneli never, never to forget me. And one thing more, Seppi.\nTake good care of the little man, and let him want for nothing.\nPromise me this.\"\n\nSeppi nodded, and his good, honest face had a cheery smile on it as he\ngave his hand to his friend, who hurried away on his restless\nwandering. He gave a hasty glance at the night pastures, which he now\nreached; the long mossy veil of the old pine-trees, beneath which he\nhad so often slept, fluttered in the wind like mourning banners. His\nfavourite brown cow raised her head slowly, and the bell round her\nneck sounded like a sad farewell. Hot tears flowed from his eyes, but\nhe had no time for long leave-taking, he must hurry on. Yonder rose\nthe rugged brow of the glacier, with its furrows lighted by the weird\nmoonbeams. He passed it by winding paths through the gloom of the\nfir-trees, now climbing steep ascents, now descending into a ravine\nwith its foaming torrent--paths known to no eye and foot save those of\nthe boldest mountaineer.\n\nAt last he stood on the lofty ridge from which the road led downwards\ninto an unknown valley and unfamiliar fields. He threw a last glance\nback towards his own loved mountain, then he hastened without further\ndelay on his sorrowful journey.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe golden sunlight of evening lay once more on mountain and valley,\nand floated on the waves of the lovely river Inn, which flowed as\npeacefully as if it had never tried to foam and rage like its brothers\nin the mountains. A youth was descending the mountain with tottering\nfootsteps. It was the last of the hills that had lain between him and\nthe great and populous town that stood in the valley below. His blue\neyes looked dim and sunken, his long hair hung tangled round his head,\nand his once respectable clothing bore traces of hasty and toilsome\njourneying.\n\nThe son of the quiet mountains looked down in amazement at the bustle\nin the town below, and a deep sigh escaped his lips. But he collected\nhimself, and descended the last declivity to the bank of the stream,\nacross which a bridge led to the town. At one end of this bridge stood\na watch-house, for it was a needful thing in those unsettled times to\nkeep a sharp look-out on friend and foe. Two soldiers sat at the oaken\ntable before the door. The young man went up to the building, and\nstood timidly a few steps from the men. At last the elder of the two\nraised his head.\n\n\"Look, Franzerl,\" said he, after a hasty glance at the young wanderer;\n\"there comes a lad from your mountains, but he does not look so\ncheerful as you did when you came.\"\n\nFranzerl looked up, but scarcely had he met the wanderer's eye than he\nsprang up and with a cry of joy caught his arm.\n\n\"Hans, dear Hans, where have you come from?\" he cried. \"Do not you\nremember me? Do you not know Franzerl, with whom you and Anneli used\nso often to play, and with whom you so often shared your bread and\ncheese, when my poor mother had nothing to give to her hungry little\nFranzerl?\"\n\nHans--for it was he--looked with joyful surprise at the cheerful\nyoung face, and recognised at once his old playfellow, who years ago\nhad left his native valley to push his fortune in the great world, and\nwhose friends had long believed him to be dead. He had become a\nsoldier; but in spite of his stern employment his heart had remained\nas warm and true as ever. He drew his old friend to the table where\nthe other man sat, and offered him some of the fiery drink in the\nglass before him.\n\n\"Drink, my good fellow,\" he said pressingly, \"drink--you seem to be in\nneed of refreshment--and then tell me what brings you hither.\"\n\nThe rough kindness touched the poor wanderer's heart, and acted like\nmagic on his weary spirit. It was the first familiar face that he had\nseen for many days--the first pleasant reminder of days gone by, and\nhe found it sweet to open his heart to this friend of his childhood,\nand tell him of the folly that had driven him from home, and how he\nhad wandered since from mountain to mountain begging a bite of bread\nand a drink of milk from kind-hearted herdsmen; for he had not\nventured to go down to the villages, where the news of what had\nhappened might have arrived before him. \"And now,\" he said, \"I am\ngoing away--away to some far-off country, where they know nothing of\nNazerl or of Hans, or even of the beautiful land of the Tyrol.\"\n\n\"You are very foolish,\" laughed Franzerl. \"Are you quite sure that\nNazerl is dead? He had always a thick skull, as I know full well.\nDon't be a fool, but stay here and become a brave soldier like us.\nBelieve me, it is a merry life, and it is possible to be a good man\neven under this coat.\"\n\nHans hesitated a moment; he had never thought of this, but Franzerl\noverwhelmed him with persuasive eloquence.\n\n\"Look here, Hans; to-morrow or next day we are going to Italy, a\ncountry that, they say, is even more lovely than our own. Ours is a\ncheerful life, and when you come back in two or three years grass will\nhave grown over the whole affair, and they will not dare to say a word\nto you after you have worn the Emperor's uniform.\"\n\n\"But Anneli?\" sighed Hans.\n\n\"You cannot see Anneli for a time at any rate, and if she is really\nworthy of you, she will be true to you.\"\n\nYes, Franzerl was right, Hans saw that; so he agreed to his proposal,\nand went with his friend to the recruiting sergeant, who was glad to\nreceive the fine fellow into his ranks.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was autumn. The morning wind swept over the Adriatic, rippling its\ndeep blue waves, and played with the dark hair of a youth who leant in\ndeep reverie against the archway of the Piazza di San Marco, gazing\ndreamily at the flow of the Grand Canal, which, after cutting Venice\nwith its great curve, mingles its waters with the waves of the\nAdriatic.\n\nIt was Hans. The mountains and valleys of his native land lay far\naway. It was long since he had left the last mountain-pass of the\nTyrol far behind, but he could not leave his love for home there at\nthe boundary--it filled him with secret longings in this beautiful,\nbut foreign land. What good did all the splendour of this strange\ncountry do him--all the lofty palaces and art-trophies of the queenly\ncity--all the sweet melody of this unknown tongue? Could one of those\nmusical sounds be compared with Anneli's voice when she said, \"I am so\nglad you have come, dear Hans\"? Could one of these marble towers\nattempt to rival the jagged glacier peaks when they shone with the\npurple of the evening sky? And when the horn sounded at sunset through\nthe mountains, echoed a hundred-fold from clefts and deep ravines, and\ndying softly amid the shades of the valley, who would compare with\nthat the tones of the music which day and night hovered on the waters\nthrough the streets of Venice?\n\nHans raised his tearful eyes: the sky, at least, must be the same\nwhich spans the valleys of the Tyrol. Then he noticed a figure on a\nslender pillar--a figure which he must have seen long years before. A\nbrazen lion with a proudly flowing mane raised its kingly head, as if\nkeeping watch over the city below, and over the sea that kissed its\nfeet. The young man dashed the rising tear from his eye, and looked\nthoughtfully up at the kingly beast. Yes, indeed, that was the same\nlion which was marked on the coin that the little man gave him long\nago, and which in the secret drawer had kept watch and guard over his\nmother's treasure. A smile passed like a sunbeam over his troubled\nface as he thought of that sunny autumn morning when the old man said\ngood-bye to him, and when he watched him from the rock as he sailed\nthrough the air on his magic mantle.\n\n\"Oh! I wish I had such a ship,\" he said with a sigh. Then, in the\nfamiliar accents of his native tongue, the words sounded in his ear,\n\"Good morning, Hans.\"\n\nHans started--there was no one near. Had a dream mocked him? But no,\nthere it was again--\"Look up, Hans, up here.\" And Hans looked up.\n\nAbove him, out of the high bow-window of one of those proud palaces,\nleant a familiar head with snowy locks and dark earnest eyes that\nsmiled kindly down on poor Hans.\n\nHe uttered a cry of joy, his first since he came to this foreign land,\nand quick as an arrow he darted into the archway, and entered the\nportal of the palace. His foot flew over marble steps and velvet\ncarpets; but he had no eye for that. On he went, up to where, leaning\nover the golden banister of the landing-place, a noble and\nwell-remembered face awaited him. Full of emotion, he stood before the\nold man, who gave him his hand in loving greeting. No longer a shabby\ncoat, but a garment of black velvet covered his form, and his withered\nbut wonder-working hand gleamed with costly diamonds. But the youth's\naffection broke the barriers of this marvellous change, and tenderly,\nas on that spring evening on the mountain when he had brought the old\nman into his cottage, he pressed his lips against the kind hand, and\nsaid from the fulness of his heart, \"God bless you, sir. I bless Him\nfor letting me find you here in this foreign land.\"\n\n[Illustration: HANS RECEIVES A HEARTY WELCOME FROM AN OLD FRIEND.]\n\n\"Not a foreign land, Hans; I am in my own country,\" answered the noble\nVenetian, as he led the young man through the splendid halls, whose\nstately walls were adorned with the masterpieces of those immortal\nartists who called Italy their home. Then they sat down together in\nthe wide bow-window, and Hans looked joyfully into the old man's\nvenerable countenance.\n\n\"So you did not forget the poor herdsman in your splendid home?\" said\nhe.\n\n\"Forget thee, Hans!\" replied the noble Venetian--\"forget thee, who\ndidst think of me in the midst of love and pleasure, and even in thy\nflight, when thy heart was filled with deadly anguish! No, indeed. I\nlong to reward those years of faithful love, and perhaps the\nopportunity has come at last.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" cried Hans with shining eyes, \"will you tell me how things\ngo at home, where you have been more lately than I? Tell me if Nazerl\nrecovered, if my mother has ceased to grieve about me, and if Anneli\nstill remembers me.\"\n\n\"Nazerl is dead--but through no fault of thine,\" said the old man\nsoothingly, for Hans had looked terror-stricken at his opening words.\n\"He soon recovered from the trifling wound caused by thy hand; but his\nown foolhardiness drove him up to the highest points of rock after a\nchamois, and a rash step hurled him into the ravine. It was not till\nlong afterwards that they found his mangled corpse. As for thy mother\nand Anneli, thou mayest see for thyself.\"\n\nSo saying he rose, stepped up to a richly carved cabinet, and took\nfrom a secret compartment a flashing jewel. The young man recognised\nit well; it was the wondrous mountain mirror; and now he held it once\nmore in his hand, and looked searchingly on its shining surface. Light\nmists rolled over it; they grew gradually thinner and thinner, till at\nlast there lay before him in the splendour of the morning sunlight his\nown beloved valley, and the substantial farm-house, Anneli's home. He\ngave no heed to the cheerful stir in barn and stable, nor to the busy\npreparation for the returning herds. No, his eye pressed through the\nclear window-panes to a well-remembered room. It was quiet and cosy,\nas in days gone by. At the window sat Anneli, fair and lovable as\never, but her countenance bore traces of gentle melancholy. The\nsnow-white thread rested in her hands, and her lips moved in earnest\ntalk with the two women at the other window--the farmer's widow and\nthe old mother that Hans was longing to comfort. It seemed to Hans\nthat the conversation concerned him, and as if now and then his name\nfell from Anneli's rosy lips. And every time she raised her eyes\ntowards the opposite wall, Hans followed the direction of her gaze,\nand saw, carefully preserved by glass and frame, a well-remembered\nblue ribbon and bunch of withered mountain flowers. At this sign of\nfaithful memory tears started to the young man's eyes, and when he had\ndried them, and looked again on the magic mirror, the dear vision had\nvanished, and the glass flashed once more in the light of the Italian\nsun.\n\n\"Listen, my son; I will tell thee the wish that my heart cherishes for\nthee,\" said the old man, as he laid the magic mirror carefully back in\nthe cabinet. \"I am alone and lonely, the last representative of a name\nof ancient renown. When I was young and strong, I was filled with a\ndesire after secret knowledge. I sought the gold of the mountains far\nand near--thou knowest this well--heaping treasures on treasures, and\nall the while I never noticed that I was growing old, and was still\nalone in life. Stay now with me. I will enrich thy mind with the\ntreasures of my knowledge, and thy heart shall remain pure. Thou shalt\nbe my son, the heir of my wealth; and thy name shall be inscribed\namong the noblest names in the golden book of Venice.\"\n\nThe young man clasped his hands, and leant towards his aged friend.\n\"Forgive me, noble sir,\" he begged humbly, \"if I cannot gratify your\nwishes; but what can riches and honour do for a heart that is pining\nwith longings after home? The scene which I have just witnessed--the\nvision of Anneli and my home--has shown me where alone my happiness\nmust be sought. But if you wish to grant me a favour, then loose the\nfetters that bind me here, and let me go as quickly as possible back\nto my loved mountains.\"\n\nThe old man sat a moment in silent thought. \"I would fain have kept\nthee with me,\" he said at last, \"for thy heart is true and pure; but\nmy wishes must yield to thy happiness.\"\n\nSo saying, he rose and once more opened the cupboard which hid his\nmagic hoards. From its most secret recess he brought a dark object,\nand when he unrolled it, it proved to be the magic mantle, the\nair-ship of which Hans had thought so longingly a short time before.\nThe old man spread it on the balcony, embraced the astonished youth\nwith the tenderness of a father, and led him towards the mantle.\n\n\"Now stand on it,\" he said; \"take this staff to guide thy flight; and\nthink of me with love.\"\n\nHans obeyed as in a dream. The old Venetian waved his hand, and the\nmantle rose and bore the young man up into the air.\n\nNot till his eyes met the full light of the open air, and the fresh\nwind played with the folds of the mantle, did Hans awake to the\nreality of his situation. He looked sorrowfully back at his noble\nfriend, who still stood in the bow-window looking after him, with a\nsmile on his aged features, and waving a farewell with his withered\nhand. Hans stretched out his arms towards him, and cried in a voice of\ndeep emotion, \"Farewell, farewell, noble sir,\" and the mantle bore him\nonwards with the swiftness of the storm-wind.\n\nFor a moment the Queen of the Sea gleamed far below, in the splendour\nof her towers and palaces; the sunlight flashed from the high windows\nof her churches, and the black gondolas glided noiselessly over the\nwinding canals. But soon this scene grew faint in the distance, and\nnothing was left of it all but the sea stretching in a blue line along\nthe horizon. Hans turned his face homewards, and directed his course\ntowards the north. Swift as an arrow he flew onwards; the air rustled\naround him like the sound of eagles' wings; in the dim distance lay\nthe mountain peaks of his native land, but they began to shine out\nmore and more clearly from the blue mists. Soon he was floating above\nthat rocky pass which long months before he had trodden with deadly\nsorrow in his heart; and now he breathes the air of his native land.\n\nWith beaming eyes he looked down over the side of the magic eagle\nwhose dark pinions were bearing him onwards to his home. Far below\nhim lay the mountains with the grazing herds; from his cloudy height\nthey seemed no larger than the lady-birds with which he used to play\nwhen a boy, and the senners' cottages like the round pebbles in the\nvillage brook. He almost felt as if he could touch the glacier peaks\nwith his hand, so near did they seem in the splendour of the midday\nsun. He looked down into their icy clefts, and saw the glacier torrent\nrolling far below in milk-white waves; but the magic boat sped further\nand further, still bearing Hans swiftly onwards to his home.\n\nThe young man now began to view the country more carefully, and soon\nhe directed his course westwards. Then he uttered a cry of joy, for\nthey were sailing towards a well-known mountain, and the mantle, as if\nit knew exactly its appointed task, sank gently downwards, till Hans\nfound himself on a projecting rock. It was the same spot from which he\nhad often, when a goat-herd, looked down longingly on the smiling\nmeadows, searching for the entrance to the dwarf king's magic\nrealm--the same spot where the old man bade him farewell that autumn\nmorning long ago, before taking his airy journey to his distant home.\nHans sprang joyously from his magic boat, laid the staff on it with\nwhispered words of thanks, and immediately the mantle rose, and flew\nswift as an arrow up into the clouds. Hans stood watching it for a few\nmoments, then he hurried down the old familiar path. A little below\nherds were grazing--his herds--and Seppi was leaning against a rock\nwatching them, and singing the while in his own cheery way. Hans\nglanced joyfully at the distant scene, and hurried on. There was the\nnight pasture, and now he arrived at the senner's cottage; he did not\nwait, however, even to peep in at the window, so eager was he to reach\nthe village. With flying footsteps he hurried down the rocky path\nwhich he had climbed a few months before with deadly anguish in his\nheart.\n\nBut to-day--to-day all was changed. With joy throbbing in every\npulse-beat Hans felt the stony path softer than the grass of the\npasture-lands, and the sound of the stream seemed sweeter than the\nmelody of harps. At last he reached the valley, and just as he entered\nit the evening bell began to ring. At the sound he stopped, bared his\nhead, and knelt by the wayside; but when the last tone died away he\nrose and hastened up the village street, then with a bound he crossed\nthe brook and reached the farm-yard gate. There was no one to be seen,\nfor the servants were at supper in the house. Quickly, but\nnoiselessly, Hans slipped through the yard, and stood with beating\nheart at the door of the sitting-room. There was no sound of life\nwithin. Hans put his ear to the key-hole and listened. Then he heard\nAnneli's sweet voice saying, \"Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and\nbless Thy gifts. Amen.\" And when the Amen was said, Hans opened the\ndoor and stepped over the threshold.\n\n\"Have you any of God's gifts to spare for a poor wanderer?\" he said\nsoftly.\n\n\"Hans, dear Hans!\" was Anneli's glad cry, for in spite of the twilight\nand his unfamiliar dress she recognised him at a glance, and soon she\nlay weeping with joy in the tall soldier's arms.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNext May-day a stately May-pole stood, as before, at Anneli's window,\nrichly adorned with fluttering blue ribbons and with the bunch of\nalproses at the top, and Anneli once more walked on the arm of her\nHans to the dance beneath the lindens. But this time the rich farmers'\nsons could not say a word of protest, for Anneli was now a fair and\nhappy bride.\n\nMeantime, the brave Franzerl had tired of the merry soldier's life,\nfor it had grown dull to him since the return home of his dear friend\nHans. So he had laid aside the Emperor's uniform, and come back to his\nnative valley.\n\n\n\n\nRHINE GOLD: A Tale of the Nibelungen\n\n[Illustration: HACO THROWS THE TREASURE OF THE NIBELUNGEN INTO THE\nRHINE.]\n\n\nEvening's dim shadows had ceased to hover in vague mystery around the\nwalls of Worms. They had, hours before, gathered in dark masses in\nevery nook of the royal city, hiding like traitors from the light of\nthe clear full moon that flooded with silvery splendour the Rhine\nriver and the Wonnegau on its banks, where, transformed by the soft\ntouch of the moonbeams, stood the proud seat of Burgundy's mighty\nkings.\n\nSlumber and silence reigned in the palace which, but the morning\nbefore, had resounded with the clash of weapons and a cheerful\nbustling life; for King Gunther, accompanied by his brothers and his\nbravest men-at-arms, had that day set out on a warlike expedition,\nleaving the town and the castle and his fair queen Brunhild to the\ncare of the truest of the true, bold Haco, in whose courage and wisdom\nhe placed the fullest confidence.\n\nWith a loose velvet mantle half hiding his gold-gleaming armour, Haco\npaced the streets of the lonely city, and listened attentively for\nsome sound to break the stillness of the night. A distant noise like\nthe rumbling of many wheels reached his ear, and an eager look came\ninto his eyes. He glanced over at the palace, in the safest room of\nwhich lay Brunhild, his honoured queen. Out of love to her he had\nmurderously slain the noble Siegfried, the immortal hero of the\nNibelungen; and the shame of the deed will last to the remotest ages,\ndimming with rust the splendid escutcheon of his fame.\n\nWhen he had convinced himself of the undisturbed repose of the royal\nhousehold, he turned and walked towards the minster, in whose shadow\nlay another palace. There dwelt the beautiful Kriemhild, King\nGunther's sister, and widow of the noble Siegfried, whose death she\nmourned with inconsolable grief. The stillness of repose hovered also\nround these walls. The windows were dark, the doors barred, and amidst\nher maids lay the royal widow in her first deep sleep.\n\nThe moonbeams glided over the roof of the palace, and glanced\nsuspiciously at the dark figure of the man who stood gazing anxiously\nup at the windows. When he saw that there was no movement, he went\ntowards the tower built of huge blocks which guarded the entrance to\nthe castle, took a bunch of rusty keys from under his mantle, and\nopened the locks and bolts of the ironbound door which led into the\nvaults. The last bolt was loosed, the heavy gate opened, and the\nmoonlight streamed in freely over the treasures which were here\ndisplayed in splendid piles. Crowns of gold richly adorned with\ndiamonds, bracelets and chains gleaming with jewels, lay there in rich\nprofusion. Wrought by the skilful hands of the dwarfs, they had been\nkept hid by the little folk in secret mountain recesses until\nSiegfried came, and Alberich, the dwarf-king, had been obliged,\nnotwithstanding his magic power and cunning, to yield to the might of\nthe hero's arm, and give him the precious hoards of jewels. And beside\nthese, heaped up to the very roof, were bars upon bars of uncoined\ngold, only waiting the impress of the mint to change them into an\nexhaustless hoard. This was the treasure of the Nibelungen, the widow\nKriemhild's rightful possession, which the heroes had brought her a\nfew weeks before from the land of the Nibelungen. With full hands she\nhad scattered gold among these heroes, and had also given rich gifts\nto the vassals of her brother, the king of Burgundy, for she had now\ncome to live in his land that she might be near the corpse of her\nbeloved husband. And what Kriemhild's beauty and misfortune had failed\nto do, her bounteous gifts accomplished. The hearts of the Burgundians\nwere turned towards her, so that Haco, the watchful hero, began to be\nanxious about his own influence and her probable revenge. So he\ndetermined to rob her of the Nibelungen treasure, that she might be\ndeprived of the means of working his ruin.\n\nAt a place not far from the royal city, where the Rhine flows in a\nstill deeper channel, stood Haco a few hours later in a boat on the\nriver, and watched the high-piled waggons, the first of which now\npassed over the shaking bridge, rolled on with threatening rumble, and\nstopped close to the low parapet. Haco stretched forth his stalwart\narm and removed the back of the waggon, so that its precious burden\nslid into the depths below.\n\nThe stream gleamed brightly in the radiance of gold and precious\nstones, the jewels whirled round and round in the rapid waters, then\nsank down flashing from wave to wave, till they had reached the still,\ndeep bed of the river. Waggon after waggon was silently emptied by\nHaco's powerful hand, and each time the costly load made the Rhine\nriver flash with borrowed splendour. So hour after hour went by in\nsilent and restless haste. When the last gold bar had disappeared\nbeneath the water, the drivers swore an oath of eternal secrecy,\nreceived rich rewards of gold, and led their waggons away in endless\nline. Haco stood alone in the boat, and watched them till the last man\nhad vanished in the shades of night; then he stooped to gaze down into\nthe stream.\n\nThere far down lay the treasure of the Nibelungen, and the Rhine\nflowed on in silence over the golden secret that it hid. No tongue\nwould ever tell the tale, no arm would ever reach the hoards. Why,\nthen, did Haco still stand lost in thought?--why did he gaze down\ngloomily into the river depths? Was it that the shadows of the past,\nor visions of a bloody future, rose from the gleaming waves? Was he\nthinking of Kriemhild's beauty and the passionate love which his now\nhard heart had once felt for the beautiful princess, and which, when\nrejected, changed into anger and hatred that moved his arm to the\nmurder of Siegfried and the robbery of the Nibelungen treasure? Or did\nhe see with prophetic eye that time in which the now helpless one\nshould take revenge on all who had injured her--a revenge which should\nexterminate the heroes of Burgundy to the last man.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMany hundred years had passed over the world since that night robbery;\nblood and tears had been shed, dried, and forgotten; new nations had\narisen and the old ones fallen, so that there was scarcely a page of\nthe world's chronicle to tell of their struggles, hopes, and tears.\nAll things had changed. The new had taken the place of the old, only\nto yield in its turn to a newer order still. Nothing was the same but\never young, ever beautiful, ever innocent nature, and the human heart\nwith its love and hate. The Rhine still flowed and the Wonnegau on its\nbanks still bloomed as of old, but its name was changed; the Cathedral\nof Worms still pointed to the sky, but it was not the same building in\nthe shadow of which Kriemhild's palace used to stand. The generation\nthat now trod the same soil knew nothing of the Nibelungen--the\ntradition of those heroes lived only in some half-forgotten songs. The\nsunken treasure had long since been thought a myth, and with an\nincredulous smile the wise men of those days pointed to the stream\nwhich was said to hide such a \"golden secret.\"\n\nNevertheless, it was no myth; the treasure still lay beneath the\nwaters. Not a crown, not a bracelet was lost; not a diamond had fallen\nfrom the brilliant setting; for, as if held together by magic hand,\nthe jewels had remained firmly united; but wave after wave had rolled\non unceasingly, day and night, from year's end to year's end, and\nsoftly and gradually the treasure had been pressed on further into the\nbed of the river. The Wonnegau lay behind it; there the waves foamed,\nwhirling over the hidden reefs beneath, and further on towards the sea\nthey roared loudly against the walls of the Pfalzburg, then flowed\ncaressingly past the blooming vines which wound their clustered\ngarlands round the white cottages of the vine-dressers.\n\nThe treasure of the Nibelungen had been carried in safety, though\nwithout any guiding hand, past all these different scenes, and the\nwaves had borne it further and further into the shadow of the bank,\nbit by bit, until, after many years, it lay at the foot of a rock that\nrose high and bold above the waves. The moonbeams wove a silver\ngarland round its granite brow, and for centuries tradition echoed\nround its jagged peak; but a row of crags surrounded the foot of the\nrock, and the foaming rage of the waves kept away even the boldest.\nThere into that deep rocky bed the waves bore the treasure, and now\nit rested safely hidden at the foot of the Loreley rock.\n\nBut treasures which have once gleamed in the sunlight, and been\ngrasped by human hands, can never rest in darkness; they strive to\nreach again the light of day and the warm living hand of man. Slowly\nthey rise from year to year, till at last they glow in the light of\nthe sun, and await a pure hand to set them free, to do good with their\nriches, and so to expiate the guilt which was attached to them. It was\nthus that the treasure of the Nibelungen pressed upwards. It rose\nslowly, slowly, for sighs and blood and tears hung more heavily on it\nthan on other sunken hoards. But at last, about a thousand years after\nthat night when Haco threw the treasure into the stream, it had made\nits way up through the water.\n\nIt was just such a delightful spring night as that memorable one long\nago; work had long since ended in the blooming vineyards, rest and\npeace lay all around. The night-wind came softly from the mountains\nand bore the fragrance of the vines across the Rhine; the moon stood\nhigh in heaven, its light glided trembling down on the ledges of the\nLoreley and kissed the feet of the rock, which until now had lain in\ndeep shadow. There in magic radiance floated the jewels of the\nNibelungen treasure, so that the Rhine shone brightly as its waves\nplayed round the golden hoard. The night-wind blew more strongly,\nbearing on its wings something like a spirit, which sank in a veil of\nmist round the point of the rock, and then stood in that majestic\nbeauty which had in days long past touched Haco's proud heart and won\nthe love of the hero Siegfried. It was Kriemhild, once Siegfried's\nsorrowing widow, and afterwards King Etzel's queen in the distant land\nof the Huns. As Queen of Hungary, she invited the Burgundian heroes to\nher kingdom, that she might demand the stolen treasure from Haco, or\ntake revenge on him for Siegfried's murder and the robbery of her\ngold. But the vengeance which should only have overtaken one fell upon\nall, even on her own little son. Kriemhild's proud heart was softened\nby the blow, and with a pang of keen repentance she thought of those\nother mothers whom her mad revenge had rendered childless. One way\nonly was left her of giving happiness instead of sorrow. With a desire\nthat rose to heaven like a prayer, she thought of her lost treasure.\nIf she could but get it now, what troubled hearts would be soothed by\nher who had heretofore brought misery to happy ones! But the swift\nsword sent her to the grave with her longings unsatisfied. The same\nslaughter that had freed her from her enemies had robbed her of her\nchild and of her life.\n\nHer spirit hovered often round the scenes of her youthful happiness,\nseeking the hidden treasure in the river-bed. That night, when it rose\nto the surface, and its golden radiance was seen bright and clear,\nKriemhild came, thinking to set it free. Her eyes gazed longingly on\nthe floating gold, and her arms, light and transparent as the\nmoonbeams, were outstretched over the rock as if she would fain grasp\nthe moving treasure. Then she glided with spirit tread down over the\njagged moonlit rock by paths which no human foot could follow, and\nsoon she stood on the narrow ledge over which the Rhine river flowed\nin gleaming ripples. Her white foot was covered by the water, but she\nheeded it not; her eye gazed fixedly on the treasure for which she had\nlonged unceasingly in life, and which now hovered close to her feet in\nthe dancing waves. Her lips moved softly, her hands were clasped as if\nin earnest desire, and she stooped to reach the golden crown which now\nknocked with a metallic sound against the rock and almost touched her\nfoot; but when she stretched out her transparent hand, and thought she\nhad touched the point of the diamond cross, the crown shrank from her\nfingers, sank into the stream, and was borne away out of her reach by\nthe mighty waters. Kriemhild sank on her knees; the waves wet her long\nflowing locks, and the hem of her purple robe--but she felt them not.\nOnly one thought, one feeling, lived in her heart--the longing to\nrecover the treasure. She bent forward once more; her white hands\nclutched again and again at the jewels which shone around her in\ntempting nearness, and yet always shrank from her touch. Other\ntreasures floated towards her, the bars of gold came close to her\nfeet, then started back when the white hands grasped at them, and\ngradually all disappeared in the middle of the stream.\n\nKriemhild's cold lips trembled, her transparent hands ceased their\nuseless toil, and were clasped again in prayer. Then there was a\nlouder rushing in the river, and a majestic shadow floated down the\nstream. Kriemhild's eye watched its onward movement; nearer and nearer\nit came, till it passed through the foaming gold stream, and\napproached the rock where the Queen now stood erect and majestic.\n\n[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE MEETS WITH KRIEMHILD. F. C., p. 108.]\n\nIt was Charlemagne, once Germany's beloved and mighty ruler, who every\nyear leaves his tomb at Aachen, glides along the Rhine to bless the\nvineyards on its banks, and then lies down again in the golden coffin\nuntil the fragrance of a new spring awakes him to another beneficent\nprogress. Now he stood before her on the river, clad in his purple\nmantle and his golden crown, with the sword which formerly decided the\nfate of nations in his cold right hand. His foot rested on the shield\nof Roland, his beloved nephew, which they had laid beside him in the\ntomb, and which now bore him like a trusty boat. The water rippled\nover the golden edge, and washed the grave-dust from the flashing\nemerald which the hero of Ronceval once won from the giant and\nfastened as an ornament on his shield.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" asked the dead Emperor, when his gaze had rested long\non Kriemhild's face. \"Thou art no mortal woman; I know that by the\nglance of thine eye, which speaks to me of bygone ages. It was thus\nthat Fastrada's eyes shone; her golden hair was soft and silken as\nthine. I have not forgotten it, though I have slept for more than\nhalf-a-thousand years in the dark vault--yet thou art not Fastrada,\nthe Emperor's beloved wife.\"\n\n\"No, great Emperor,\" said the Queen; \"I was once Kriemhild, the wife\nof Siegfried, the hero of the Nibelungen, who ruled over the land\nwhich was also subject to thy sway. The present generation know almost\nnothing of his glory, but in thy times, O Emperor, his renown was\nstill bright.\"\n\n\"I know him well, that model of all knightly virtues,\" said the\nEmperor thoughtfully, \"and his fate and thine are familiar to me. It\nwas but the old and yet ever new song that sounds through all\ntime--the song of the victory of evil over good--which made my life\nalso one of pain and trouble. But what brings thee hither, O Queen?\"\n\n\"If thou knowest my fate, noble Emperor,\" answered Kriemhild, \"thou\nknowest also what I seek for here. Thou knowest the misery I caused in\nlife. When repentance came it was at the last moment, and my time was\ngone for earthly works of love. But now, perhaps, my spirit may be\npermitted to grasp this treasure, cause of so much sin, and use it\nwell and wisely, till as many tears are dried as have been shed, and\nas much sorrow healed as was once caused by me.\n\n\"See yonder, noble Emperor! there gleams the Nibelungen hoard, the\nbequest left me by my husband, but of which Haco robbed me. It has\nrisen, and awaits only the delivering hand; but no one comes. So I\nwould fain grasp the treasures and seize the moving bars of gold. Then\nin the stillness of the night I would take them into the abodes of\npoverty and misfortune, so that when the inmates awake Kriemhild's\ntreasure might dry the tears of need and despair. But it is not\npermitted me.\"\n\nThe Emperor turned his face and gazed searchingly down at the jewels,\nwhich floated in bright clear radiance on the waters of the Rhine.\n\n\"Thou askest a thing impossible, O Queen,\" he said at length; \"knowest\nthou not the limits which debar spirits from the deeds of mortals? It\nis only a guiltless, living, human hand which may change the sentence\nthat hangs over them. But the Nibelungen treasure has long since been\nforgotten. Yet look! Thou no longer seest the jewels in the full size\nof olden days. Wave after wave has gnawed at them; the waters have\nworked unceasingly through long centuries at this tedious task. See\nhow the ornaments on the bracelets and crowns have shrunk, and how\nslender the links of the chains have become. The Rhine has taken the\ngold of thy treasure, and with it fertilised the blooming meadows on\nits banks. Nightly the gold set free rises in light mists above the\nstream and sinks in blessing on mountain and valley, and when autumn\ncomes thy gold gleams in every cluster, ripens in every ear of corn.\nFreer, stronger, more joyous are the people of these meadows--and that\nis the blessing of the Nibelungen treasure, which rests unseen in\nearth and air and water--thus will the guilt and tears be done away\nwith which once lay heavy on this hoard. Then have patience, O Queen,\nfor a few short years--then thou wilt search in vain for thy treasure.\nMeantime other ministries are thine.\"\n\nThe Emperor bowed his head in courteous farewell, and sailed on his\nmagic boat up the moonlit stream.\n\nKriemhild gazed after him. The emerald in the point of the shield\nflashed brightly in the moonlight, and the wide purple mantle\nfluttered above the gleaming waves. The Emperor blessed the vineyards\nas he passed; and when the last glimmer of his crown grew pale and\nthe veil of night concealed him, the Queen once more looked at the\ngold hoard at her feet. The dead Emperor had spoken truly; her eyes\nnow perceived it too; so she could wait in patience till the last\ncrown, the last gold bar, had melted in the sparkling river.\n\nThe treasure's time of freedom was passed; no delivering hand had\ncome. The jewels slowly shrank together round the foot of the Loreley\nand fell into their watery bed. Their splendour was extinguished;\nstill and dark the river flowed. Then Kriemhild turned and ascended\nthe rock. She gave one long farewell look at the meadows of her former\nhome, and then vanished like a mist in the distance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAgain centuries have passed. Kriemhild no longer hovers round the\nLoreley, for the Nibelungen treasure has melted in the waves; only its\ndiamonds rest uninjured in the river bed, and any one gazing into its\ndepths on starry nights may see them flash and sparkle far below. But\nthe gold runs freely through the Rhine, so that its waters flow in\nbright, clear waves; and on summer nights the precious substance rises\nto the clouds, and then falls in fertilising dew on the meadows and\nvineyards all around. Gold shines in the ripening berries and gleams\nin the waving corn; with the clear ring of gold sound the songs of the\nRhenish people; pure as gold is their honesty--that surest safeguard\nagainst every foe.\n\nThat is the German Nibelungenhort--that is the Rhine gold.\n\n\n\n\nThe Friendship of the Dwarfs.\n\n[Illustration: THE COUNTESS MATILDA RESTORES THE DWARF-QUEEN TO\nHEALTH.]\n\n\n\n\nPART I.\n\nThe DYING DWARF-QUEEN.\n\n\nA stately and strongly-built fortress stood many hundred years ago on\na high rock of the Thuringian Mountains. The lord of this castle was\ndescended from one of the noblest families in the land, and had chosen\nthis place from all his numerous estates as a home for himself, his\nwife, and his little son, because its cheerful situation and mild\nclimate were best suited to the Countess Matilda's delicate health.\n\nThey had come home to it, after a long journey, on the evening which\npreceded the night on which my story begins, and the Countess, wearied\nwith all the ceremonies of the reception, had just fallen into a\ngentle and refreshing sleep. Crimson curtains hung in heavy silken\nfolds round the lady's couch; through them the lamps shed a softened\nlight on the sleeper, lending to her cheeks a rosy glow which was,\nalas! but seldom seen there.\n\nIt was midnight. Every one in the castle was asleep, resting from the\nexertions of the past day, when the lofty door was noiselessly opened,\nand a little tiny man with a long grey beard approached the couch of\nthe slumbering Countess, and let the light of a lantern fall on her\ndelicate features. He was scarcely three feet high, and his figure was\nof ungraceful build. But in the rather large head gleamed a pair of\nbright and intelligent eyes, and in the aged features shone an\nexpression of benevolence and truth. The little man's clothes were of\na plain dark colour; his little smock-frock was bound by a girdle with\na silver buckle; under his arm he carried an invisible cap, a little\nblack head-dress with a long point, and ornamented with silver bells.\nVery gently he drew near the couch, raised his lantern, and softly\ntouched the arm of the Countess, which was carelessly thrown over the\nsilken coverlet. The Countess awoke, looked in amazement on the queer\nlittle figure, and asked at length, \"Who are you, little man?\"\n\nThe dwarf bowed low and answered politely, \"I am one of the race of\ndwarfs, gracious lady, who live in great numbers in the rock below\nyour castle. Our Queen lies at the point of death; her only hope of\nrecovery is in the touch of a human hand. The King, therefore, sent\nme, when he heard of your arrival, to beg you to show this kindness to\nour beloved Queen.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the Countess sadly, \"I am so ill myself, can I be of\nany use to another?\"\n\n\"It will be all right, gracious lady, and will cost you no fatigue,\"\nanswered the little man, \"if you will only trust yourself to my care.\"\n\nThe Countess turned to waken her husband, and to ask his advice, but\nthe dwarf begged earnestly, \"Let him sleep, noble Countess. Long\nbefore he wakes you will be back again. No evil will befall you. We\nhave always honoured your race--have lived in peace and friendship\nwith them through long centuries, and have secretly done them many a\ngood turn.\"\n\nThe Countess was of a kind and obliging disposition; so,\nnotwithstanding her delicate health and present weariness, she agreed\nto follow the dwarf. She was also afraid of making the powerful little\npeople angry by a refusal, and thus bringing evil on her family. She\nthrew her cloak quickly about her, and prepared to go with the dwarf.\nWith noiseless tread he led her through hall after hall, room after\nroom, till they came to a little round bow-windowed chamber in the\ntower on the western side of the castle, whence they descended by a\nnarrow winding stair into the castle garden.\n\nIt was a lovely summer night. The little guide darkened his lantern,\nfor moon and stars threw a clear light on their path, and thus they\nwent on in silence along the foot of the castle rock, beneath\noverhanging trees, which showered down their fragrant blossoms on the\nlady's dark hair. At last they came to a rock which projected somewhat\ninto the road, and the foot of which was thickly covered with ferns.\nThe dwarf parted them asunder, and the Countess saw a narrow passage\nwhich led away into the heart of the mountain. They entered. The dwarf\nopened his lantern again, and its light showed the walls of a vaulted\ncave, which, at first low and narrow, became wider and higher as they\nwent on, till at last they walked through a beautifully arched\ncorridor. Soon they arrived at a door, and when it opened they entered\na room with crystal walls, which shone as with the radiance of a\nthousand lights. Among the points of the crystal darted countless\nlittle lizards, whose bodies seemed made of transparent emerald; on\ntheir heads were little golden crowns set with rubies; and when the\npretty little creatures with their shining diadems slipped so nimbly\nand lightly through the crystal points, the walls gleamed and flashed\nso strangely that the Countess was filled with astonishment. But the\nroof of this room seemed an ever-changing picture of living wonders.\nGreat white and blue snakes with diamond eyes, and slender bodies\ntransparent as the air of heaven, wound in endless circles the one\nthrough the other; and as they moved in gleaming coils, sweet music\nand refreshing fragrance filled the crystal hall. Here in this\nsubterranean kingdom sin and enmity seemed unknown. Creatures which on\nearth fight and oppress one another lived here in friendly intimacy.\nSo fair and lovable seemed these little animals to the Countess, and\nthey looked down on her with such soft intelligent eyes, that she\nwished one of them would come near enough for her to stroke and caress\nit. Absorbed by these wonders, she had not noticed that her little\nguide was already at the further end of the room, and was holding the\nsecond door open and beckoning to her to enter. At last she saw him\nand followed.\n\nThe walls of the second hall gleamed with brightly polished silver\nore, out of which bloomed flowers of such beauty as are never found in\nearthly gardens. They were carved out of precious stones so skilfully\nas to deceive the eye and to tempt one to bend over their cups to\nbreathe their fragrance. Bright silver ore formed the pavement, and\nthe light that streamed from a huge diamond in the centre of the\nceiling trembled in thousand-fold reflection on the silver walls and\nthe jewel-flowers.\n\nIn this hall were many of the dwarfs assembled. All were simply clad,\nlike the dwarf that had acted as guide to the Countess; all had grave,\nwise countenances and beaming eyes, dimmed now with anxiety and grief.\nAs the Countess entered they bowed low, holding in their hands the\nlittle caps with the silver bells, which, by making them invisible,\nenable them to play many tricks on the human race. Now they arrived at\nthe third room, which was the Queen's bed-chamber. At the ceiling of\nthis room hovered a golden eagle with its wings outspread, and\nholding in its beak four diamond chains, on which the Queen's bed\nswung gently to and fro. The bed was a single gigantic ruby, skilfully\ncut, and on it rested on pillows of white satin the dying Queen of\nthis enchanted realm.\n\nThe stillness of death reigned in the place. Goldemar, the mighty\ndwarf-king, stood by the ruby couch, sunk in silent grief. His hair\nand beard, gleaming like silver, flowed down over his mantle of royal\npurple; he had taken the shining crown from his head and laid it at\nthe feet of the dying Queen. His nobles stood in a wide circle round\nthe King, and seemed to share his grief.\n\nThe Countess went up to the couch. There, on pillows of white satin,\nrested the loveliest being that her eyes had ever beheld; she was\nsmaller than her subjects, while her husband, on the contrary,\nexceeded them in stature; but her form was exquisitely symmetrical,\nand her tender limbs seemed formed of wax. Round her closed eyes and\nblanched lips the smile of youthfulness and kindliness still hovered,\nwhile her wondrous hair flowed round her whole form like liquid gold.\nThe Countess bent silently over the dying Queen, listening for a\nbreath, but in vain. Not a sound disturbed the solemn stillness. Only\nthe golden eagle flapped his mighty wings, making a current of cool\nair through the lofty apartment, so that the rosy flames flickered in\nthe crystal vessels, and threw a quivering reflection on the gilding\nof the walls and on the diamond crown at the dying Queen's feet.\n\n\"It is too late!\" thought the Countess; but she did as her little\nguide directed, laying one hand on the brow, the other on the breast\nof the dying Queen, and then awaited the result in anxious silence.\n\nSlowly and sorrowfully the moments passed by. The Countess was about\nto remove her hands, when she saw Goldemar's eye fixed on her in\nearnest entreaty, and she had not the courage to rob the sorrowing\nKing of his last hope; so she let her warm hand remain a little longer\non the rigid form. Suddenly, whether it was a reality or only her own\nfancy, a slight tremor seemed to move the delicate frame, then a\nsecond and a third time, and gently, very gently, the heart began to\nthrob once more.\n\nThe Countess bent again over the Queen, and listened to her breathing.\nGentle and sweet like the fragrance of flowers the breath passed in\nand out over the beautiful, half-parted lips, and life once more\ntinged the sweet face with a faint bloom. It was not the gleam of the\ncandles or the ruby lights that caused the rosy hue that now\noverspread her face; it was life, true life. At last she opened her\neyes, raised herself, and looked round in astonishment.\n\n\"Am I still with thee?\" she said to her husband, whose glance rested\non her in delight, as she held out her soft white hand. \"How did it\nhappen? Tell me.\"\n\nGoldemar pointed to the Countess.\n\n\"Oh, my deliverer!\" she exclaimed, turning in surprise to the noble\nlady; \"how shall I thank you?\"\n\nThe news of their beloved Queen's recovery soon spread to the rest of\nthe dwarfs, and they came flocking in, their grave faces lit with a\nserene content. They crowded round the royal pair with affectionate\ncongratulations, and poured forth their thanks to the Countess. Then a\nband of servants drew near, carrying vessels of precious metal,\nwherein lay fruits and flowers carved in precious stones of\nincalculable value, and so cunningly and wonderfully wrought that the\ntreasuries of earthly princes have not their like to show.\n\n\"Pray, accept these,\" begged the King, on whose brow the crown once\nmore shone.\n\n\"Pray, accept them,\" said the Queen, her beautiful eyes fixed in\nentreaty on the face of the Countess.\n\nThe Countess shook her head gently. \"Let me have the pleasure of\nhaving served you without reward,\" said she. \"I have wealth enough;\nand now take me home again.\"\n\n\"Thou despisest our gifts,\" said the beautiful Queen in a tone of\ndisappointment, \"and our laws do not permit us to leave any benefit\nunreturned. Thou hast surely some wish; name it, then, that we may\nfulfil it.\"\n\nThe Countess shook her head, then all at once she thought of her\nchild. The celebrated physician, to consult whom she had undertaken\nthe long journey from which she had returned the evening before, had\nnot concealed the truth. The span of life that remained to her was\nvery short, and soon her beloved child Kuno would be left motherless.\nPerhaps he might some day need the help of the friendly dwarfs.\n\n\"One petition, indeed, I have,\" she said with a faltering voice. \"My\nchild will soon perhaps be motherless, and if he should ever need\nprotection, will you befriend him?\"\n\n\"From this moment,\" replied King Goldemar, \"he is under our care, and\nwe will hasten to his assistance as soon as he needs it.\"\n\nThen the dwarf who had acted as guide to the Countess before conducted\nher back through the castle garden; and soon she rested, tired, but\nwith a peaceful and happy heart, once more on her couch.\n\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\nTHE FRIENDS IN THE ROCK.\n\n[Illustration: ECKBERT'S WILD RIDE ON KUNO'S HORSE.]\n\n\nA sunny terrace of the castle hill became the last resting-place of\nthe Countess Matilda. It had been her favourite spot both in her days\nof health and of sickness. Here she had spent part of every day with\nher Kuno, and with him looked down on the fruitful plains of\nThuringia; and here she had taken a sad farewell of the blooming life\naround. She did not wish to rest in the dark and gloomy vault, but\nhere on the lonely height, with flowers around her and sunshine above\nher head.\n\nIt was an autumn afternoon. There were no longer any flowers in field\nor garden, but around the grave of the Countess was a freshness and\nfragrance as of spring, and the sun in which she had so delighted let\nno day pass without looking kindly down on the lonely grave, if only\nfor a few minutes.\n\nThe wind was shaking the lofty trees of the castle garden, and\nplayfully driving the yellow leaves along the paths, when a little\nfigure with a pale sad face came up the broad gravel walk, climbed the\nrock, and threw himself on the grave. It was Kuno, Countess Matilda's\nonly child.\n\nHow one year had changed everything!--his dear mother dead, his father\ngone to distant scenes of war along with many noble knights, and he\nleft alone with heartless and ill-natured strangers! A distant\nrelation, the Lady Von Allenstein, had been asked by the Earl to\npreside over his household, and to act the part of a mother to the\nlittle Kuno. She was a woman as heartless as she was clever, and so\nsuccessfully did she ingratiate herself into the favour of the\nunsuspicious Earl, that before he left he gave her full control over\nhis vassals and his estate. Her son Eckbert, a lad of about fifteen\nyears of age, had the reputation of being well brought up, because in\nthe presence of strangers he could assume fine courtly manners; but\nhe had a mischievous and malicious disposition, and was both feared\nand hated by the castle servants.\n\nThat Kuno, this child, this dreamer, who in Eckbert's opinion\npossessed no knightly qualities whatsoever, should be some day lord\nand possessor of so many noble castles and estates with their numerous\ndependants, while to his lot had fallen nothing but one small and\nhalf-ruined castle, to which not even a single village was\nattached--this vexed him, and in his heart burned envious hatred\ntowards the orphan child. Hitherto Kuno had borne all Eckbert's malice\nwith the gentleness which he had inherited from his mother; but when\nthe news came that the Earl had been dangerously wounded, and when the\nmessenger spoke of his master's death as probable, Eckbert counted\nhimself freed from restraint, and tormented the little Earl with\ngreater spitefulness than ever.\n\nTo-day he had cut him to the heart. Kuno's little horse, which had\nborne him when he was scarcely more than a baby, and which had never\nfelt either whip or spur, had been mounted to-day by the cruel\nEckbert. For the first time Kuno ventured a decided protest, and\nEckbert, seeing by this unusual courage how dear the animal was to its\nyoung master, struck the spurs with all his might into the horse's\nsides, so that it reared suddenly and then dashed with bleeding flanks\nout by the castle gate. When Kuno, after Eckbert's return, ran to the\nstable to see how his favourite had borne the dreadful ride, the horse\ndid not turn his head as usual to greet him with a joyous neigh; he\nlay panting on the straw, covered with foam and blood, his feet\nstretched out, his head drooping, and his breast heaving with a loud\nrattling sound. Kuno threw himself down beside him, put his arms round\nhis neck, and called him by the tenderest names. Then the creature\nopened his eyes, fixed his last look on his young master, and with a\nfeeble attempt at a neigh, that sounded like a death-sigh, he died.\n\nKuno's tears were dried; he remained speechless before his dead\nfavourite, and gazed with tearless eyes upon the body. Thus Margaret,\nthe castellan's wife, Kuno's old nurse, found him. She had seen\nEckbert mount the horse, and heard Kuno's words. When she saw the dead\nanimal and the child's grief, her anger at Eckbert's malice knew no\nbounds. She went at once to Lady Von Allenstein, and said what she\nthought of Eckbert's shameful deed with vehemence such as the proud\nlady had never before witnessed in an inferior.\n\n\"Do you know,\" said the lady, with flashing eyes, \"what you\ndeserve?--a place in the dungeon among frogs and toads. But I will be\nmerciful. In one hour you and your family leave this castle; that will\nserve as a warning to your fellow-servants, and will make Master Kuno\nmore submissive to me and my son, as he will no longer have you to\nencourage him in his obstinacy.\"\n\nSo they left. In one short hour the last true friends of the poor\norphan left the castle, although he clung to Margaret and besought her\nwith passionate weeping not to leave him quite alone. He watched them\nas long as he could, and then crept back through the garden to his\nmother's grave.\n\nHere dreams of bygone days passed before his mind. He thought of the\nhappy hours which he had spent here on the solitary height with his\nbeloved mother; when he had looked down with her over the blooming\ncountry, and listened to her tales of the wonders of foreign lands, of\nour lost Paradise, and of the heavenly home which she soon hoped to\nreach. Then when, at the thought of the coming parting, his little\nheart shrank, his mother would take him in her arms and try to comfort\nhim by telling him about the friendly feelings that the good dwarfs\ncherish towards poor defenceless children, and about the splendour and\nbeauty of the enchanted realm below the ground.\n\nAnd now? He knelt down beside the grave, laid his head on the grass,\nand sobbed, till at last, tired out with grief and weeping, he fell\nasleep. The sun set, but he did not know it; the stars rose, and the\nchild slept on, with his head pillowed on his mother's grave. A gentle\ntouch on his shoulder woke him. He started up in surprise. Before him\nstood a tiny little man of insignificant appearance, and with a\nlantern in his hand. It was the same dwarf that had once led the boy's\nmother to King Goldemar's dying Queen.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the child in astonishment, as he rubbed his\nsleepy eyes.\n\n\"One of your mother's friends,\" answered the little man kindly; \"dost\nthou not remember what she told thee about us? Wilt thou come with\nme?\"\n\nKuno rose at once, took the dwarf's hand, and walked away by his side.\nThey soon reached the clump of ferns that covered the secret\nentrance, and stepped into the vaulted corridor. The first door\nopened, and the child found himself suddenly in the enchanted realm of\nhis mother's stories. Yes, this was the crystal hall with the emerald\nlizards and the sky-blue snakes. The place still glimmered and shone\nas when the Countess trod its floor; the snakes looked down kindly on\nthe boy with their diamond eyes, and the transparent lizards bowed\ntheir crowned heads in friendly greeting.\n\n\"I know what the other hall is like,\" said Kuno in delight to his\nlittle guide. \"Do not flowers made of precious stones gleam along the\nsilver walls; and in the third hall is there not the Queen's ruby bed\nswinging from the golden ceiling, and the eagle flapping his golden\nwings?\"\n\nThe dwarf smiled. \"See for yourself,\" he said. Then he led him through\nthe halls. Yes, it was all as Kuno's mother had described it;\neverything was wonderful, and yet he knew it all so well. Last of all,\nhe was led into the throne-room.\n\nThe walls and ceiling were of blue crystal, so that it looked like the\nvault of heaven, and in the high dome shone stars cut out of rubies.\nThere were no lamps in the hall, but from without a hidden artificial\nlight streamed through the crimson stars, and filled the whole room\nwith rosy radiance. At the far end of the room stood a throne made of\nlarge and costly pearls, which glowed in the light like rosebuds, and\non it sat in her brilliant beauty the Queen of this enchanted palace,\nwith her golden hair flowing to the pearl-built steps of the throne.\nBeside her sat King Goldemar in a purple mantle, his noble brow\nadorned once more with the diamond crown.\n\nWith a low obeisance the dwarf introduced the boy to the royal pair.\n\nThe lovely Queen was much smaller than Kuno, and yet she looked so\ndignified that the child knelt and reverently kissed the little hand\nwhich she graciously extended to him.\n\n\"Thy noble mother was my friend,\" she said with a gentle voice, \"and\nthou art dear to us as one of our own. Every night, if thou wilt, thou\nmayest come to us to forget thy little troubles in our hall. Look thou\naround; all are ready to love thee and give thee pleasure.\"\n\nAs she spoke she raised her white hand and pointed to the lovely\nchildren at the foot of the throne, and to the troops of little dwarfs\nthat were assembled in the hall. Then the royal children came up to\ngreet him, and after them the little dwarfs with their grave wise\ncountenances; they gave him their hands, and met his wondering gaze\nwith friendly looks. And the poor friendless boy, who hitherto had\nfelt himself alone and forsaken, felt happy, now that he found such\nunexpected kindness and love such as he had never felt since his\nmother's death. All his troubles vanished from his memory in this\nenchanted kingdom. Hour after hour flew by, and to the child they\nseemed but minutes. Then the dwarf who had brought him took his hand\nand drew him away. Kuno was sorry to go, but he followed his little\nguide.\n\n\"Do not weep,\" said the latter kindly. \"Thou mayest come back every\nnight; but take care that thou tell no one of thy visits, or some\ngreat calamity may be the consequence.\"\n\nWhen they reached the garden the stars had already grown pale, and the\nfirst streaks of dawn were showing in the east.\n\n\"Let us make haste,\" said the dwarf anxiously, \"for we dwellers below\nground can only live under the light of the stars--the sun's rays kill\nus.\"\n\nSoon they arrived at the winding staircase at the foot of the tower.\nThe gate was locked, but the dwarf brought out a strangely-formed key,\nput it into the lock, and immediately the heavy iron-barred door\nturned noiselessly on its hinges. It was the same with all the other\ndoors as soon as the wonderful key touched them, and softly the\nwanderers slipped through the rooms and passed the sleeping servants.\nKuno reached unseen the room that he shared with Eckbert, and then the\ndwarf hastened home.\n\nEckbert had tried to keep awake to receive Kuno with scolding and\nreproaches, for the child had been missed at supper and sought for, of\ncourse in vain. But he had fallen asleep over his generous plan.\n\nKuno was still slumbering sweetly when Eckbert woke, sprang out of\nbed, and shook the boy roughly.\n\n\"Where were you yesterday? Speak!\" he shouted; but Kuno, mindful of\nthe dwarf's warning, kept silence. But when Eckbert raised his arm to\nstrike the child, an invisible hand gave him such a powerful blow on\nthe ear that he staggered half unconscious against the wall. He felt\nuncomfortable at the thought of the unseen avenger, and he left Kuno\nin peace, but told the whole story to his mother, wickedly distorting\nit as he went on. At breakfast she ordered the boy to tell where he\nhad been; but though his heart beat fast with terror, he closed his\nlips tightly and remained silent.\n\n\"I will conquer your obstinacy,\" said the lady angrily; \"you shall\nsleep in the room in the tower, and go earlier to bed.\"\n\nIn the evening she took him herself to the lonely chamber, from which\nthe winding stair led to the garden; for she thought that fear of the\nuninhabited and lonely room would force the boy to tell his secret.\nBut when he went without a word, and lay down uncomplainingly on his\nbed, anger rose high in the proud lady's heart. \"Eckbert is right,\"\nshe thought; \"his obstinacy must be conquered.\"\n\nWith a prayer to God, and a fervent wish that his little friends would\nnot forget him, Kuno fell asleep. And they did not forget him. About\nmidnight the little dwarf stood once more at his side, wakened him,\nand led him into the enchanted palace.\n\nThe little folk greeted him joyfully, the royal pair reached him their\nhands, and amid splendour and pleasure the hours flew by. His friends\nshowed him the rooms that he had not seen the day before--the crystal\nchambers full of golden ornaments, which every family possessed, and\nwhich far outshone the most splendid palaces of earthly kings. They\nshowed him wonderful things which they knew how to make--birds made of\nprecious stones, from whose transparent throats sweet songs poured\nforth; fruits and flowers, shaped out of jewels, whose beauty and\nfragrance was like that of the flowers of Eden. Kuno's astonishment\nand delight knew no bounds; the hours went by too quickly, and when\nthe stars began to pale the dwarf led him back to his room in the\ntower. And every night at midnight the same dwarf brought him back to\nthe enchanted kingdom. There he forgot all the trials of the day--all\nEckbert's spiteful tricks, and Lady Von Allenstein's injustice. But it\nwas not alone to please and amuse him that the little people brought\nthe boy to visit them--they cared also for his mind and heart.\n\nIn this magic kingdom lived an aged dwarf with long snow-white hair\nand beard; a supernatural light shone in his eyes. All the dwarfs,\neven the King and Queen, treated him with the greatest reverence, for\nhe was the oldest man of their nation, and also the wisest. He could\nlook back through thousands of years; he knew everything in the whole\nearth--all plants and stones; he knew about their origin, and had\nwatched their growth. Often, when the King and Queen were sitting on\nthe throne, the wise man would come into the hall and seat himself on\nthe pearl steps; then the lovely royal children, Kuno in their midst,\nwould gather round and listen as he told with beaming eyes about the\nwonders of creation, and the mysterious forces of nature. Words of\nkindness and wisdom flowed from his lips, and it seemed to the boy as\nif he were sitting in church or at the feet of his dead mother.\n\n[Illustration: KUNO LISTENS TO THE WISE MAN'S TALK.]\n\nBut even happier hours than these he spent playing with the children\nin the crystal hall, letting the beautiful lizards dart down on his\noutstretched hand, or the sky-blue snakes glide down and wind\nplayfully round his feet. Once, when he was preparing to go home after\none of his visits, King Goldemar held the hand that he had extended in\nfarewell, and spoke to him in a low and confidential tone. Kuno nodded\nwith a happy smile. Next morning joy shone from his soft eyes and\nbetrayed itself in his cheerful mood, which made so strange a contrast\nto the silent gravity of his usual demeanour. The change did not\nescape the quick eye of the Countess; but she took care not to ask the\nreason, for she thought she could guess it already.\n\nEarlier than usual Kuno said \"Good night,\" and went to his room, but\nnot to bed. He worked about, fastening wax candles, which he had got\nbeforehand from the steward, on the walls, and trying to give the room\na festive appearance; then he put on his best clothes, sat down on his\nbed, and waited.\n\nAt last the castle clock struck twelve, and immediately soft music\nsounded in the distance; it came nearer and nearer, and soon floated\nup the winding stair. In a few moments the door opened of itself, and\nin came Kuno's dwarf friends, marching two and two, and all arrayed in\nfestive garments. They held their invisible caps in their hands,\nswinging them in measured time, so that the silver bells that\nornamented them rang in magic melody. Then followed, escorted by\nGoldemar and the Queen, a bridal pair, whose wedding feast was to be\nheld in a human dwelling for the blessing and well-being of its\noccupant. Kuno advanced to meet his guests, and greeted them joyfully;\nthen to the sound of wondrous music the dance began. This was led by\nthe King and his lovely consort, their crowns flashing lightning at\nevery quick graceful movement; then followed the bridal pair in\ngarments gleaming with gold. Kuno had taken the hand of a pretty\ndwarf-maiden, and now mingled merrily in the splendid throng. All was\nmirth and gaiety.\n\nSuddenly the music stopped, the dancers stood still, and all eyes\nturned in indignation towards an opening in the ceiling where the face\nof Lady Von Allenstein was visible.\n\nGoldemar's eyes flashed angrily.\n\n\"Blow out the lights!\" he cried to one of his train; and in a\ntwinkling the little fellow had climbed up the wall, and before the\nlady had time to suspect that this command had anything to do with\nher, the dwarf reached the opening, and blew into her face.\n\nA fearful scream followed; then the King turned to Kuno and said--\n\n\"Accept our thanks, my dear child, for thy hospitality; it is not thy\nfault that we cannot stay longer. Farewell!\"\n\nThen the little people turned quickly towards the door, and soon the\nboy was alone.\n\nFaint moans were now heard from above, and a sound as of suppressed\nweeping.\n\nKuno also had seen the face of the lady, and knew that these doleful\nsounds were uttered by her. Deep compassion filled his heart; he\nforgot all the unhappiness that this woman had caused him, and, filled\nonly with the thought of helping her, he took a candle in his hand and\nhastened to clamber up to her.\n\nHe found her crouching on the ground, her hands pressed before her\neyes.\n\n\"What is wrong, gracious lady?\" asked Kuno timidly.\n\n\"Oh, I am blind! I am blind!\" she groaned piteously. \"The dwarf blew\ninto my eyes, and my sight left me.\"\n\nKuno, full of pity, seized her hand and led her tenderly step by step\ndown the winding stair, and on to her own apartment.\n\nAfter calling a maid to her assistance, he returned to say good-night\nto the poor lady. What he had never done in her days of health he did\nnow--he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently. The lady\nfelt a hot tear drop on her hand; silently, but with scarce-concealed\nemotion, she drew it away. This tear burned like unquenchable fire,\nnot only on her hand, but on her soul.\n\nShe spent a long and sleepless night; this unexpected calamity had\ncrushed her hard heart. But though the light was taken from her eyes,\na new day dawned within her. Her dislike of Kuno, her hardness and\ninjustice towards the orphan child, all passed through her mind in\nfiery procession; and when she thought of Kuno's noble conduct, a\nflood of penitent tears streamed from her sightless eyes.\n\nEckbert, on hearing of his mother's misfortune, showed himself as\nheartless as ever. He railed at the dwarf and at Kuno as the real\ncause of it. But he had not any idea of sitting through the long\ntedious hours with his poor blind mother--that was Kuno's business, he\nthought, for he had been the cause of it all. On the contrary, freed\nfrom all restraint, Eckbert amused himself more than ever with the\nchase and with drinking bouts, and tyrannised worse than before over\nall around him.\n\nKuno behaved towards the unhappy lady like a loving son. He sat with\nher and cared for her wants as if she had been his own beloved mother.\nWhen the summer came he led her out every day into the garden or to\nthe rock where his mother lay, and tried to amuse her with his\nchildish talk.\n\nLady Von Allenstein was often deeply moved when she felt Kuno's\ntenderness and thought of her own heartlessness. Once her emotion\novercame her, and she drew Kuno to her side, and said with tears--\"You\nare so good to me, who was so unkind to you; can you forgive me for\nall the wrong I have done you? Oh! if I could only get back my sight,\nI would take every opportunity of making up to you for my injustice.\"\n\nKuno was still on the most friendly terms with the dwarf nation, and\nregarded the enchanted palace as his second home.\n\nExactly a year had passed since that wedding in the tower-chamber,\nwhen King Goldemar again expressed a wish to hold a similar feast in\nthe same room.\n\nKuno's heart beat high with joy at these words; perhaps--but he would\ncherish no presumptuous hopes.\n\nAgain the room was festively decorated; but no one in the castle got\nthe least hint of what was to take place in the isolated room. The\nlittle guests appeared, and this time the merriment went on\nundisturbed.\n\nBut dawn, the time of separation, was drawing near, and Goldemar held\nout his hand to his protege to say good-bye. Then Kuno held it fast,\nand looked entreatingly into the good King's face.\n\n\"What dost thou want, Kuno?\" asked Goldemar.\n\n\"I have one petition, the fulfilment of which will make me happy,\"\nanswered the boy.\n\n\"Name it,\" said the King graciously; \"it is granted.\"\n\nThen Kuno led the King to the bed and drew back the curtains. There\nsat a pale lady in deep mourning, her dark sightless eyes fixed\nvacantly before her.\n\n\"Give her back her sight,\" begged Kuno, pointing to Lady Von\nAllenstein.\n\nGoldemar's eyes shone as he looked approvingly on the boy; then he\nbent towards the lady and said, \"I light the lamps again!\" at the same\ntime breathing into her eyes, so that the sight came back immediately.\n\nThe newly-opened eyes shone with joy and gratitude, and in a burst of\nweeping she sank into Kuno's arms, while the royal pair and their\ntrain looked on in deep emotion.\n\n\"Farewell then, Kuno,\" said King Goldemar. \"Thou hast found what was\nneeded to make thee happy--a mother's heart. We have kept our word.\nShouldst thou ever in thy life again need our help, thou wilt find us\nready.\"\n\nWith a loving look the King held out his hand, and the Queen and the\nother dwarfs likewise took an affectionate leave of the boy before\nreturning to their kingdom under ground. Just as they were going\nthrough the castle garden towards the entrance in the side of the\nrock, Eckbert returned from a drinking bout.\n\n\"I have come upon these dull fellows unexpectedly,\" he said, grinding\nhis teeth, when he noticed the procession of dwarfs. \"Now they shall\nsuffer for that box on the ear, and for my mother's blindness. I will\ncut off the last clown's head and throw it in at that stupid Kuno's\nwindow.\"\n\nHe slipped softly behind the procession. When they reached the door in\nthe rock, Eckbert waited till the last had put his foot on the\nthreshold, then he sprang forward and raised his sword. The same\ninstant the heavy rock door, which so artfully closed the opening,\nshut to and crushed Eckbert's head to atoms. Without uttering a sound\nhe fell back, and his blood stained the snow.\n\nThe next morning offered a sad spectacle to Lady Von Allenstein's\nnewly-restored sight. It is true, Eckbert had been an undutiful son,\nbut still it was her child, her own flesh and blood, that now lay\nbefore her a mangled corpse. The place where he had been found with\nhis sword unsheathed made Kuno suspect whose hand had caused his\ndeath; but he was silent on this as on all that concerned his dwarf\nfriends.\n\nEckbert was buried with great pomp, but no eyes shed tears at the\nceremony save those of his mother and of the good forgiving Kuno. From\nthis time Lady Von Allenstein turned the whole affection of her\nennobled heart towards Kuno, who repaid her love with the most\nheartfelt gratitude; and no one who did not know their relationship\nwould have thought, to see them together, that they were anything but\nmother and son.\n\nWinter and spring were past, and the warm summer weather had come.\n\nOn a bright summer evening the horn of the watchman on the tower\nannounced a troop of horsemen, and as they drew near with the sound of\ntrumpets Kuno's sharp eye recognised in their floating banner his\nfather's colours.\n\nHe had long since recovered, but instead of returning to his castle he\nhad once more offered his strong arm and brave heart in service to his\nimperial lord. The war was now ended, and the Earl, whom they had long\ncounted dead, had returned, covered with scars and with honours, to\nclasp his beloved son in his arms.\n\nLady Von Allenstein still lived in the castle, and presided over it as\nbefore, but she was served now from love and not from fear. When she\ndied in a good old age, Kuno knelt at her side; her cold hand rested\non his head, and her dying lips spoke words of love and blessing over\nher adopted son.\n\n\n\n\nThe Flower of Iceland.\n\n[Illustration: HELGA AT HER MOTHER'S FEET.]\n\n\nA substantial farm-house stood many, many years ago on the slope of a\nhill in bleak and frozen Iceland. The owner, who had spent his youth\nas a sailor in distant climes, had at last obeyed his dying father's\nsummons, and exchanged the palms and orange groves of southern lands\nfor the feeble sunlight and cold lava-fields of his native island. But\nas a living souvenir of those happy regions he brought home a young\nand beautiful wife, whose dark and eloquent eyes still shone in the\nmemory of all who had beheld them, long after they had been closed in\nthe last sleep.\n\n\"Marietta,\" her husband had said before the priest had joined their\nhands in marriage, \"have you considered well what you are renouncing\nwhen you promise to follow me as my wife? Here in your country an\neternal spring reigns, sweet with the fragrance of flowers and musical\nwith the warbling of birds, while the Italian sky shines in\nnever-fading blue. On my island you will find none of these things. A\npale sun, a grey sky overhead, and all around barren heaths and\nice--ice and snow wherever you look; none but the Icelander can think\nthis island beautiful.\"\n\n\"But you will be there,\" answered Marietta; \"and could I wish for any\nhome but yours?\"\n\nSo she had gone with him to the far north.\n\nThey had one child, a lovely little girl, who bore the name of Helga;\nshe must be a true daughter of Iceland, and to this even her name must\nwitness. But her foreign descent was not to be hid; true, she had the\nfair skin and beautiful flaxen hair of a northern girl, but her eyes\nwere as dark and mysterious as her mother's.\n\nThe Icelanders have no flowers; they know of their beauty only by the\ntales of their countrymen who have seen them on their travels; but\nevery one who looked into little Helga's beautiful face thought that\nflowers must look like that, and thus she was called \"the Flower of\nIceland.\"\n\nFair Helga loved her grave father, but she loved still more her\nbeautiful and gentle mother, by whose side she spent most of her time.\n\nEvery spring the father set out for the coast with a few servants to\nget fish for the year's household provisions; for though he dearly\nloved Marietta and his home, the sea still exercised the old spell on\nhis heart. In summer and autumn he was accustomed to go to the distant\ntrading places along the coast, there to exchange the wool of his\nlarge and well-conditioned flocks for the valuable products of foreign\nlands, with which he loved to please and adorn his dear ones.\n\nAt such times Helga would sit at her mother's feet, listening as she\ntold in the soft, sweet sounds of her native tongue about the blue sky\nand the warm golden sunlight of Italy, of the beautiful flowers and\nevergreen woods, and of the fine mild nights when the young girls\nwould dance in the moonlight to the sound of the mandoline, and\npleasure and melody reigned over land and sea.\n\nAh! how beautiful that country must be; and here everything was so\ndifferent. No dance, no song, either from human lips or from the\nthroat of a bird. Helga had never even heard the sheep give a cheerful\nbleat; everything was stupid and grave; the silence of death was\nNature's language here.\n\nThen Helga's dark eye would wander away over Iceland's wide and desert\nheaths, over the lava-fields that stretched for miles, and which had\nburied the freshness of nature under their stiff mantle of mourning.\nShe gazed on those giant ice-mountains, untrod by human foot, which\nrise like monuments of death, with thick mist-veils about their brow.\nEven when a sunbeam happens to pierce the cloudy covering, the\ncolossal piles of ice shine in the pale light like sarcophagi in a\nvault. Then Helga would shudder and think with ardent longing on her\ndear mother's native land.\n\nAnd she? Ah, her husband had been right. In spite of her love for him,\nshe pined for the sunny valleys of her childhood, all the more as she\nnever told her husband of the grief that gnawed at her heart, for he\nplaced his Iceland before all the paradises of the world. Ten years\nhad scarcely gone by till Marietta's warm heart lay still beneath the\nsod.\n\nHelga thought her heart would break when they carried her loved mother\nout towards the hill, whence she had so often looked longingly out\nover the sea, watching the blue waves as they hastened towards the\nbeautiful but distant south.\n\n\"When you bury me,\" said the dying woman to her husband, \"lay me so\nthat my face may look towards Italy.\" And they did as she wished.\n\nHelga often sat now on the grave, herself the only flower that\nbrightened it; and along with her dear mother's image those distant\ncountries came vividly before her mind, as she had heard them\ndescribed as long as she could remember.\n\nA distant relation now came to take charge of the housekeeping. She\nhad willingly left her home, bringing with her her only son, in\ncompliance with her rich cousin's request. The stern old woman had no\nsympathy with Helga's longings, and counted her descriptions of\ndistant lands as fairy tales; nothing, she thought, could be more\nbeautiful than Iceland. But Olaffson, her boy, who was only a few\nyears older than the little orphan, became Helga's eager listener.\nWith equal delight he looked on her beautiful face and listened to her\nstories; the grave blue eyes, which were usually as cold as the\nglaciers of his native island, would kindle as she went on, and when\nHelga stopped he would say, \"I will be a sailor, and travel to those\ncountries to see if they are really so beautiful!\"\n\n\"But you will take me with you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, of course.\"\n\nThus the years went by, and the time drew quickly on when the tree,\nthe seed of which had been sown by Helga's hand, bore fruit. Olaffson\nwas no longer a boy, and he decided on going to sea. The head of the\nhouse willingly gave his consent, and the time of parting came.\n\nFair Helga's cheek was pale. Olaffson fancied that it was the\nseparation that troubled her so deeply, and that thought sweetened the\nbitter hour to him. But ah! it was only her grief at having to stay at\nhome on the cold and barren island, and at not being allowed to see\nthe countries to which, as she thought, she had a much better right\nthan Olaffson.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother year had gone. Olaffson had come home and given an account of\nall that he had seen. The hour of parting again drew near. Early next\nmorning he was to set out on a second and longer journey, and in\nspite of Helga's tears and entreaties to be allowed to go, her father\nand Olaffson had only shaken their heads and laughed at her\nchildishness.\n\nIt was evening. She went with Olaffson to the grave on the hill, there\nto hear once more about the wonders of foreign lands. Hour after hour\nflew by; she could not tire of the delightful theme.\n\n\"Well, Helga,\" Olaffson at last concluded, \"it is indeed as beautiful\nin those countries as your mother used to tell you; almost more\nbeautiful--yes, much more beautiful; still, it is not Iceland. There\nis no place so beautiful as our native land--no place.\"\n\nHelga looked at him incredulously.\n\n\"You may believe me, Helga,\" he said. \"Look; it is now midnight. In\nthose countries there has been night, deep night for hours; the sun\nhas long ago forsaken them, but it loves our island better, for it\nlingers longer with us. Just look over yonder. It has just sunk into\nthe sea, and on the rosy western sky it paints in silvery outline the\nbeautiful leafy forests which are denied to our soil. Only look how\nthey nod their gleaming heads; does it not seem as if you could hear a\nmysterious rustling among their branches? And are not the white clouds\nabove like eagles circling over their summits? And now look at the\nclear light around you! The nights there are as dark as the\nconsciences of criminals; our nights are like the heart of a pious\nchild--light, clear, and still.\"\n\n\"But it is so cold here--so cold that my very heart freezes within\nme,\" said Helga complainingly.\n\n\"But the cold is bracing,\" said Olaffson. \"There, I found men weak,\ncowardly, and effeminate. I could tell you many a sad story to show\nthis. Now look at your own land, Flower of Iceland, for you belong to\nus; we are honest, brave, and strong as our fathers were, and our sons\nwill be after us, and that we owe to Iceland and its glaciers, its\ncold but strengthening climate. I tell you, fair Helga, there is but\none Iceland, as there is but one flower in it.\"\n\nEarly next morning Olaffson was to set out. Helga's father said he\nwould go down to the coast also with his servants, for it was the time\nof the yearly fishing, so that they might as well travel together so\nfar.\n\nThe farewell was short and silent. Helga struggled to keep back her\ntears when she saw how merrily they all sprang into the saddle, and\nwhen she thought of Olaffson's words about Iceland's brave people; for\nshe must show herself worthy of her race. But her dark eyes rested so\nlongingly on her father's face that he knew what was passing in her\nheart.\n\n\"Come, Helga,\" said he, stooping down from his horse, \"you may go with\nus as far as the hill where the lava-fields begin.\" Then he took her\nup before him on the saddle, and soon the horses were off at a canter.\nSoon they reached the hill at the foot of which the lava-fields began,\nwhose dark lines stretched for miles along the horizon.\n\nHelga could no longer restrain her tears. She threw her arms sobbing\nround her father's neck and said, \"Don't stay long away, dear father;\nit is so dreary at home when you are both away.\"\n\n\"I will come back in a few weeks, my Helga,\" said her father,\nsoothingly; \"meantime be a good girl, and help your cousin with the\nhousekeeping.\"\n\nHe kissed her snow-white brow silently, but tenderly, lifted her down\nfrom the horse, and after one more pressure of the hand the little\nband set out again.\n\nHelga watched them till a sinking of the road hid them from view; then\nshe went back towards the hill, leant against the side of a rock, and\nlooked into the distance, shading her eyes with her hand. Then they\ncame into sight again, but so far away that Helga's farewell could not\nreach their ear. A fleeting sunbeam rested on them a moment, making\nhorses and riders shine out clearly from the desert plain over which\nthey were moving. Then a mist, such as only Iceland's mountains could\nsend forth, fell around them, and Helga saw them no more.\n\nShe leaned her head sobbing against the rock, closed her eyes, and\nwept hot tears of grief and loneliness. Then a voice of wondrous\nsweetness sounded suddenly in her ear, \"Why does fair Helga weep?\"\n\nHelga opened her eyes in astonishment. No one was there; she could see\nnothing but the mist in the distance and the bare lava-fields at her\nfeet. She closed her eyes again.\n\n\"Helga, fair Helga, why are you so sad?\" said the voice again; it\nseemed as if it came from the sky.\n\nA slight shudder passed through Helga's frame; she did not venture to\nstir, but she timidly opened her eyes and looked up. But what did she\nsee? Was the azure Italian sky, of which she had so often dreamt,\ncoming here to meet her? Right before her, on the summit of the hill,\nstood a form of majestic beauty, which must surely belong to some\nhappier clime. Eyes of deep and mysterious blue shone down on Helga\nfrom the kingly countenance, and hair lovelier than her own, golden as\nthe stars of the summer night, flowed down over the robe of purple\nvelvet in which the stranger was clad.\n\n\"Why does fair Helga weep?\" he asked tenderly.\n\nHelga tried to regain her composure. \"How do you know me, O stranger?\"\nshe asked shyly.\n\n\"Who does not know the Flower of Iceland?\" answered he with a smile.\n\"Shall I tell you some things about yourself that will prove to you\nhow long I have known you, and how well I am acquainted with your\nhistory? Shall I tell you how often I have seen you sitting on your\nmother's grave, and what images there passed before your mind? Shall I\nsay what longing a moment ago stirred your soul--how you wished to be\npermitted to travel with Olaffson, that you might see those rich and\nwondrously beautiful lands? But no such journey is necessary to the\nfulfilment of your wish. Your mother's paradise is here--here close\nbeside you.\"\n\nHelga's eyes shone, half in doubt, half in delight.\n\n\"Here, here?\" she asked, incredulously. \"How can that be?\"\n\n\"Just come a few steps with me to the other side of the hill, and then\nyou will see that I speak the truth.\"\n\nHelga took his proffered hand. The stranger who had known her so long\nand so well was no longer a stranger to her, and he could not be an\nenemy who was about to fulfil her heart's dearest wish. So she went\nfearlessly with him to the other side of the hill.\n\nThe stranger placed his hand against the rock, which immediately\nopened, and allowed Helga and her guide to enter. She stood\nspell-bound with astonishment. Then she passed her hand over her brow,\nand tried to think if this could be a dream. But no, it was reality.\nThere lay before her a wondrous region, more beautiful than her\nmother's native land or than all her childish dreams.\n\nThrough the crystal dome that stretched above this paradise the sun\nsent beams bright and warm such as the children of Iceland never see\nor feel. Their golden light trembled among the green foliage of the\nmajestic trees, played with the flashing fountain jet, and flamed in\nthe cups of the transparent flowers.\n\nIn the distance the ocean rolled its deep blue waves round wooded\nislands, and amid the fragrance of the flowers and the brilliant\ncolours of the lovely scene hovered sweet and magic music, which\nfloated to the shore of the sea, whose waves bore it in soft echo to\nthe happy isles.\n\nHelga looked round with delight such as she had never felt before. Had\nearth really such beauties, and was she permitted to gaze on them?\n\nShe stooped to examine the wonderful flowers, gently stroked the\nvelvet of their leaves with her white hand, and pressed her lips into\ntheir fragrant cups. Then her delighted eye watched the fountain, as\nits waters rose in a line of light almost to the crystal dome, then\nfell in a graceful curve far beyond its basin, so that the shrubs and\nflowers bent beneath its shining dew.\n\nThen she turned towards the lofty trees, pressed her face gently\nagainst their smooth stems, and looked up at their shining foliage,\nwhich rustled softly in the breeze. Snow-white birds hopped from\nbranch to branch, and threw friendly glances at Helga as at an old\nacquaintance. Was it these feathered songsters that made the sweet\nmusic which floated with the sunbeams and the soft spring air all\nthrough this lovely place? Or did the tall trees or the distant sea\ngive forth the sweet sounds that soothed with soft caress Helga's\nheart and mind, bearing away on their melodious waves the past and its\nmemories?\n\nHours had flown by in this fairy kingdom, and to Helga they seemed but\nas one moment. At last she turned to the stranger, who had followed\nher every movement with loving eyes, and had noticed her delight.\n\n\"Oh, how shall I thank you,\" she said, grasping his hand, \"for\nbringing me here and satisfying the longing of years? But tell me\nwhere I am; for Iceland's cold hills hide no such paradise.\"\n\n\"You are in my kingdom, fair Helga,\" answered the stranger in a gentle\nvoice; \"and I am the fairy king of Iceland.\"\n\nHelga looked at him in astonishment. No lips save her mother's had\never told her of such things, and _she_ knew nothing of Iceland's\nspirit kingdom. Therefore Helga felt neither terror nor anxiety.\n\n\"Ah! if I could only stay here always,\" she cried earnestly.\n\n\"I wish for nothing better,\" said the king; \"and why should you not?\"\n\n\"Ah! my dear, good father--he has no one but me,\" said Helga, thinking\nfor a moment of her home.\n\n\"But he is now far away,\" said the fairy king persuasively; \"and you\ncan stay at least till he comes back.\"\n\n\"So I can,\" cried Helga in delight. So she stayed with the fairy king.\n\nOne day in this paradise was just like the next, as it will perhaps be\nin heaven, where there is nothing to remind the blessed of the flight\nof time, where it is all one gloriously happy present, because they\nhave no past to look back on with sad memory, and the future has\nnothing more beautiful to excite their longings.\n\nHelga moved with happy heart by the side of the fairy king through\nthis paradise. The white birds flitted around her, now and then\nsettling on her hand or shoulder. The sea with the blue waves gave a\nsound of pleasant greeting when Helga and the fairy king drew near its\nshores. Then when he seized her hand and they stepped together on one\nof the little waves, this fairy boat carried them gently and swiftly\nover to the happy islands.\n\nAt midnight, when Iceland's sun spread its crimson mantle along the\nhorizon, its reflection streamed through the crystal dome, glowed like\nroses in the fountain and on the birds' white feathers, while the sea\nrolled to the shore in violet waves.\n\nThen Helga knew that she must close her eyes, in order to strengthen\nherself for a new day of happiness. She lay down on the soft moss,\nwhile the fairy king sat near her and took his harp. From its strings\nstreamed forth magic music which banished memory from Helga's soul.\nThe sweet sounds lulled her to sleep, and carefully guarded the gates\nof her heart, permitting no dream to knock there which could remind\nher of the past and its claims. But, once, the chord which nature has\nplaced between the hearts of parent and child, and which never breaks\neven though seas lie between, sounded with a startling thrill.\n\nHelga's father had come home, and his grief and lamentation at the\nloss of his beloved child were so violent that Helga's slumbering\nheart awoke.\n\n\"My father!\" she said suddenly one day as she stood beside the sea,\nand drew back the foot which she was just on the point of placing on\nthe wave that stood bowing its blue head before her. \"My father! I\nthink I hear you lamenting my loss. Is it not my duty to leave all\nthese beautiful things here and return to him?\"\n\nA shadow fell on the fairy king's face. He silently seized his harp\nand drew from it strains more beautiful, more heart-enthralling than\nHelga had ever heard before. They floated away over the sea till the\nwaves sank into silence, unwilling to disturb the sweet melodies. And\nin Helga's heart memory ceased to thrill, and the visions of the past\nfaded from her mind.\n\nThen the fairy king told her how he had chosen her years ago as the\nqueen of this kingdom, and had watched over her since her childhood;\nthat he had prepared all these beautiful things only for her, with the\nhope that she would some day be his wife, and thus gain for him\nthat for which his soul had yearned during long centuries--an immortal\nsoul, a boon which is denied to the poor fairies in every land.\n\n[Illustration: HELGA IN THE FAIRY KING'S PALACE. F. C., p. 154.]\n\n\"Will you be my wife now, fair Helga?\" he asked in conclusion. \"I will\nlove you with a faithful love such as you would seek in vain among\nyour degenerate race. You shall never regret having given to the poor\nfairy king the desire of his heart.\"\n\n\"I will, I will!\" said she, seizing his hands with childish frankness.\n\"I will always stay with you.\"\n\nThe king's eyes shone with joy.\n\n\"But, fair Helga, the laws of our kingdom are strict; we hold the vows\nof faithfulness more sacred than you do, although we look for no\neternal reward. If you become my wife, and by uniting your soul to\nmine impart to me your immortality, then you belong henceforth to me,\nand to me alone. Your father and your home have no longer any claim on\nyou, and if you ever return to them, then I must hold you guilty of\nrobbing me of my soul, and our kingdom will demand your life as the\npenalty. Canst thou keep such faith as this with me, O Flower of\nIceland?\"\n\nFair Helga leaned forward. \"Look into my eyes,\" she said; \"do you\nthink me so ungrateful? I will be your wife, and you shall gain\nthrough me a never-dying soul. Do you think I could disappoint your\nhopes of immortality?\"\n\nSo fair Helga, the Flower of Iceland, was married to the fairy king.\n\nA year had gone by. The sun shone once more through the crystal dome,\nand fair Helga's fairy kingdom still bloomed in unfaded beauty; but\nthe Flower of Iceland was pale and sorrowful, and a tear trembled on\nher lowered eyelashes.\n\nWas the fairy king's wife not happy? Oh yes, she was happy, almost too\nhappy. Beauty and love surrounded her on every side; but undisturbed\nblessedness never lasts long on earth.\n\nHer husband was far away. The laws of the fairy kingdom compelled him\nto go every year across the sea to give account of his government to\nthe supreme lord of the fairy race, whose throne stood in the rocky\nmountains of Norway. He had promised to return in a week, and now\nthree weeks had gone by, and he had not come home. This thought gnawed\nat fair Helga's heart, and made her blind to all the beauty around\nher. In vain did the white birds flit around her head, stroking her\ncheeks with their soft wings. Helga's soul was sunk in sorrow, and the\nmagic music with its soothing power lay asleep in the harp. At last\nshe rose.\n\n\"Ah! I must be disobedient, my husband; forgive me, forgive me! But\nanxiety will kill me, if I do not go out to look if I can see you in\nthe distance.\"\n\nShe sprang up and went to the door in the rock. The birds fluttered\nanxiously around her, but she frightened them away with her hand, and\ntouched the wall through which she had entered a year ago. The rock,\nnot daring to refuse obedience to its mistress, opened, and fair Helga\nstepped out on the barren soil of Iceland. But after being so long\naccustomed to the warm summer air, she shuddered as she felt the icy\nbreath of her old home, and with hurried steps she went to the point\nof the rock. Here she stopped, turned her beautiful face, and looked\nover her left shoulder towards the south-east.\n\nBefore the power of this magic glance the veil of the distance\nvanished. Her look pierced through Iceland's fogs, flew over the\neastern mountains, and swam on the Atlantic waves to the steep\nrock-bound coast of Norway. She saw the mysterious inhabitants of the\nmountains, and the mighty fairy king seated on his diamond throne,\nover which thousands of years had passed, leaving it still unshaken.\nAround him stood his people in their unfading youth and beauty, bowing\nin lowly reverence. But her husband's noble form was not among them;\nshe could not meet the glance of his deep blue eye, though she\nanxiously examined every countenance. At last she looked sadly away,\nand turned to go back to her lonely kingdom.\n\nBut when she went round the corner of the rock she saw a tall, manly\nform standing in the very place whence she had once watched her father\nand Olaffson as they rode away over the lava-fields. With a cry of joy\nshe ran to the spot. Could it be that her husband had been so near,\nwhile she believed him far away? But the man, hearing her light\nfootstep, turned his head, and she looked not on her husband's\nyouthful beauty, but on the careworn face of her long-forgotten\nfather.\n\n\"Helga, Helga!\" The words fell on her ear with a strange thrill. \"My\nchild, you are still alive, you are still on earth?\" and he stretched\nout his arms towards her, and pressed her to his breast, while the hot\ntears fell on her brow.\n\nThe long-silenced chords now sounded loudly in Helga's heart, memory\nawoke, and the fairy king's harp was not near to lull it to sleep\nagain.\n\n\"My dear, good father,\" she said, thinking now of none but him, \"weep\nnot. Your Helga lives and is happy; but how old you have grown, and\nhow white your hair is!\"\n\n\"Yes, Helga, I had lost you, my only child; but now that I have found\nyou my youthful vigour will return. Come home quickly, my daughter.\nHow glad Olaffson will be.\"\n\nAt these words Helga's heart trembled. \"My dear, dear father,\" she\nsaid, gently stroking the furrowed cheeks, \"I cannot go with you; I\nbelong now to another world.\" Then she told her astonished father all\nthat had happened to her since the hour when she said good-bye to him\nat the edge of the lava-field.\n\n\"I have given my word,\" she concluded, \"and, hard as it seems not to\ngo with you, I dare not, I dare not.\"\n\n\"Alas, my child, my poor unhappy child!\" said the father sorrowfully;\n\"into what hands have you fallen?\"\n\n\"Into the best and tenderest, my father,\" said Helga, soothingly.\n\"Would that my husband were at home, that you might see him; but I\nwill show you my kingdom, that your mind may be set at rest.\"\n\nShe took her father's hand and led him towards the side of the rock\nwhich concealed the entrance into the fairy land. She touched it, but\nthe door remained closed; again and again she passed her hand over the\nhard stone, but there was no movement.\n\nHelga's heart throbbed as though it would break, and she sank down on\nthe hard ground, begging with bitter tears for admission to her\nkingdom; but all was still, dead, and motionless.\n\nPoor Helga! Without knowing it, she had transgressed the laws of the\nfairies by speaking to a mortal of the mysteries of the spirit-world,\nand now its gates were barred against her. With bitter regret she now\nremembered her husband's parting command--not to return to the outer\nworld, to which she had no longer any right. Soon, she thought, will\nthe other awful threat be fulfilled, and she sank unconscious into her\nfather's arms.\n\nHe was rejoiced to see the fairy kingdom closed against his daughter,\nand with a lightened heart he bore the precious burden back to her\nchildhood's home.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter long hours and days of darkness, Helga's youthful strength\ntriumphed, and she opened her eyes in full consciousness. Her first\nglance fell on her father, who sat at her bedside.\n\n\"You here, my dear father? Then my meeting with you was not a dream?\nBut now let me get up and go to my husband; he must have come home\nlong before this, and he will believe me when I tell him that I did\nnot intend to leave him.\"\n\n\"My child, look round you,\" said the father, soothingly. \"Let those\nfeverish fancies die. See, you are where you have always been, at\nhome with your old father. All through your long illness you have\nraved about a fairy king and his paradise, of your marriage and your\npromises. But these were only fancies, my Helga, such as fever often\ncauses.\"\n\nHelga looked at him in trembling astonishment.\n\n\"That is impossible,\" she said at last in a faltering voice. \"Bring\nout my clothes, and see whether Iceland has such splendid garments as\nthose.\"\n\n\"Splendid garments?\" repeated her father as if in surprise. Then he\nrose and brought Helga's dress, a garment such as she had always been\naccustomed to wear.\n\nHelga examined it doubtfully, then she passed her hand over her brow,\nlooked up at her father, and said in a low voice, \"I cannot understand\nit. Can one then dream such things as those?\"\n\n\"Certainly, my child; it is always so in fever. When I went to the\ncoast a few weeks ago, taking you with me as far as the lava-field,\nyou must have climbed the rock to watch us and fallen asleep there.\nThen the cold mountain mist crept round you, and almost prevented you\nfrom ever awaking. When your cousin thought you were staying too long,\nshe set out with the servants to look for you; there they found you\nlying on the rock in a state of unconsciousness, and brought you home.\nA messenger was sent after us, and we returned as quickly as possible.\nI left my fishing, and Olaffson gave up thoughts of his voyage, that\nwe might be near at hand to watch and care for you.\"\n\nHelga sighed. Her father had never told her an untruth, so she felt\ncompelled to believe him, though her heart rebelled against his words\nwith bitter grief.\n\nAh! she little suspected that her father, in the hope of keeping his\ndear child beside him and hindering her return to fairyland, had\ninvented this story, and carefully taught it to every one about the\nhouse.\n\nHelga's bodily strength increased day by day, but over her spirit\nrested a cloud of melancholy, and she pined in secret for the paradise\nof her \"feverish dreams.\"\n\nShe was at last almost convinced that such they had indeed been, for\nwhen she spoke to any of the servants about her lost fairy kingdom,\nthey always smiled and said, \"Those were mere fancies; we were about\nyou all the time and heard you rave about them.\"\n\nAs for the voyage round the world which Olaffson had completed since\nshe went away, of that she heard nothing, nor was she aware that the\nworld's history had advanced a year while she tarried in fairyland.\nThe farm-houses in Iceland are separated from each other by long\ndistances, so that it was but seldom that Helga came in contact with\nany of the neighbours; and if a chance stranger came to claim the\nrights of hospitality, the father or Olaffson took care to warn him\nbeforehand not to disturb Helga's delusion.\n\nBut the precaution was almost unnecessary; for the Flower of Iceland,\nonce so cheerful and talkative, who used to greet the arrival of a\nstranger as a joyous event, and was never tired of asking questions\nabout the wonders of foreign lands, the same Helga sat silent and\nlistless, and left the room as soon as the conversation turned on\nbeautiful scenery. For the visions of her lost paradise came back to\nher mind, and it needed a conflict of hours to still her restless\nheart. \"Ah! it was only a dream.\"\n\nOlaffson had given up his seafaring life, and now busied himself about\nthe farm. Helga's father loved him as a son, and intended making him\nthe heir of his valuable property. But he had hopes of giving him\nsomething better still. He was only waiting till Helga should be once\nmore the joyous Helga, till the Flower of Iceland should raise its\ndrooping head. But this time seemed far distant.\n\n\"Perhaps she will be better when she is married,\" said the father to\nhimself, as he looked anxiously at Helga. She was leaning against the\ngrassy ditch that enclosed the farm, and gazing into the glow of the\nevening sky. He stepped softly up to her.\n\n\"What is my Helga thinking of?\" he asked tenderly.\n\n\"Of the evening rays that are now falling through the crystal dome, of\nthe little waves crowned with the roses of the sunset sky, and of the\nsweet music of the harp,\" she answered dreamily.\n\n\"Helga,\" said the old man reproachfully, \"will you never shake off\nthese delusions. You have heard from every tongue that they were fever\nfancies; but you want to vex my heart.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no, dear father. Do not think so ill of your Helga,\" she said\nquickly, as she turned and stroked his cheeks caressingly. \"I know\nvery well that they were only dreams, but you cannot believe how\ndeeply they are burnt into my heart. It seems like faithlessness to\ntear them away.\"\n\n\"That is a remnant of the fever,\" said the old man. \"Ah, Helga, how\nhappy should I be if you were yourself again!\"\n\n\"And I too, dear father,\" said Helga, with a gentle sigh.\n\n\"I know one way of curing you, and if you love me you will try it.\"\n\n\"That I will, father.\"\n\n\"Do you promise it, my Helga?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear father,\" she answered unhesitatingly.\n\n\"Then listen: Olaffson is good and brave, is he not?\" Helga nodded.\n\"He loves you dearly, and my most cherished wish is that you should\nbecome his wife, and that you should live under my roof, brightening\nmy old age with the sight of your happiness.\"\n\nHelga grew deadly pale.\n\n\"Ah, father, dear father, I cannot.\"\n\n\"Why not, Helga? Have you anything against him? Is he not young,\nhandsome, and strong? Is he not brave and good? Could you find me a\nbetter son, or yourself a more loving husband? Tell me, are you\ninfluenced in this matter by those foolish dreams, the wild images of\nyour brain? Tell the truth, Helga.\"\n\nShe looked at him in trembling entreaty.\n\n\"Ah, my father, forgive me.\"\n\n\"If you want to make your old father happy, say Yes, and become\nOlaffson's wife; if you wish to poison my last days with sorrow, then\nleave my wish unfulfilled.\"\n\nWith these words the old man turned away in anxious grief, and moved\ntowards the house.\n\nHelga hastened after him.\n\n\"Do not be angry, my father,\" she begged; \"I will fulfil your wish,\ncome what will.\"\n\n\"I thank you, my good child; but what do you fear? What could come of\nit but a father's blessing, with its fruits of happiness and peace?\"\n\nSo Helga became Olaffson's wife.\n\nDid the Flower of Iceland now regain its freshness and bloom? Alas!\nno. In spite of her father's tenderness and her husband's love, she\nstill remained sorrowful and pale; deeper, if anything, was the shadow\nthat oppressed her soul. To longing was now added remorse, the\nbitterest feeling that can disturb a human heart, for it is the only\none for which time has no balm.\n\n\"How could I ever rob you of your claim to immortality?\" she had once\nsaid to the poor fairy king; and even though the words had been only\nspoken in a dream, yet they burned into her soul, and when she\nconsented to be Olaffson's wife, it seemed to her as if she had really\nshut out that poor spirit from the heavenly paradise.\n\nThe short summer passed, and Helga shuddered more than ever under the\nicy breath of the northern winter; but it too went by, and spring came\nat last across the ocean to Iceland's snowy plains. The roads were\nonce more passable, and the first sacrament of the year was to be\nsolemnised in the church of the parish to which the farm held by\nHelga's father belonged. Olaffson asked his wife to partake with him\nof the sacred symbols, and she gladly consented. Perhaps she thought\nthis feast of reconciliation might bring back her long-lost peace.\n\nShe went about her work with more energy than she had shown for many\nmonths, so anxious was she to have everything in readiness for the\nmorrow, for they would have to set out early in order to reach the\ndistant church in time for the service. She was just laying the table\nfor supper when she saw her husband passing the window, and by his\nside a stranger of tall and manly form.\n\n\"See, Helga,\" said Olaffson as they entered, \"I bring an honoured\nguest; set out your best provisions, for he has travelled far, and is\nin need of refreshment.\"\n\nHelga looked at the stranger. His face was handsome, but over his\nyouthful features sorrow had passed with heavy hand. But when he\nraised his deep blue eyes to Helga, and asked in soft and melodious\ntones--\"Will the Flower of Iceland permit a stranger to rest beneath\nher roof?\" a shudder passed through her frame, and the old conflict\nbegan in her soul more wildly and perplexingly than ever.\n\nThese eyes, this voice, could they have spoken to her only in a\nfeverish dream? And if she had been deceived--what then? The thought\nthreatened to rob her of reason; but Olaffson stepped up to her and\nsaid--\n\n\"Our guest must be tired and hungry, my Helga; will you not grant him\nthe welcome which the stranger has always met beneath this roof?\"\n\nHelga recovered herself by a great effort, and went out to prepare a\nroom for the mysterious guest, while the latter sat down at table with\nthe others. Then she slipped softly back, took a seat in a dark\ncorner, and gazed with mingled anxiety and longing on the stranger's\nface.\n\n\"Look here, sir,\" said Helga's father, pointing to the sky, \"do you\never see anything like that in your native land? Do you not\nacknowledge Iceland to be the most beautiful country in the world?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the stranger, \"your land is indeed beautiful; but your\nhome and mine are not so very far distant from one another.\"\n\nHe glanced at Helga--of whose presence the others were not aware--then\nhe described the land in which he lived, the same land that Helga was\nsaid to have seen only in the delirium of fever.\n\nShe listened with breathless attention. It seemed to her as if the\nsplendour of fairyland once more surrounded her. She saw the blue\nwaves rolling at her feet, and felt herself, as in days gone by,\nrocking on their gleaming crests. She ran merrily to the side of the\nfountain and caught at the water, that she might sprinkle it in sport\non the birds; and she saw the transparent flowers bending their\nfragrant cups in friendly greeting. Every moment she expected to see\nthe stranger throw aside his disguise, and, standing before her in\nroyal purple, touch the long-disused strings of his golden harp.\n\nAlas! her father had then deceived her that he might keep her at home;\nher heart had told her the truth, and she, instead of listening to its\nentreaties, had weakly yielded to persuasion, and broken her sacred\npromise. And now? Too late, too late--all was over. Full of grief and\ndespair, she hastened out of the house to pour out her heart in bitter\nweeping amid the stillness of the night.\n\nNext morning, when all was ready for the journey, when the horses were\nstamping impatiently before the door, the family all assembled to\nconform to an old Icelandic custom. In that island, before any family\npartake of the sacrament, each member asks forgiveness of all the rest\nfor wrongs consciously or unconsciously committed. Helga took her\nfather's hand and her husband's. \"Forgive me for all the anxiety I\nhave caused you,\" she begged in a low voice; then she added the\nmysterious words, \"and also for the sorrow that I am about to bring\nupon you.\"\n\n\"You must also ask forgiveness of our guest, Helga, in case you have\noffended him,\" said Olaffson. \"You were not to be found yesterday when\nhe wanted to bid you good-night.\"\n\nShe shuddered, cast a farewell glance on her father's face, and moved\ntowards the stranger's room.\n\nYes, it was as she felt and knew. The dark garment of yesterday had\ndisappeared; before her stood the fairy king in radiant beauty, with\nhis golden hair flowing down over his purple robe.\n\nShe clasped her hands in silent entreaty, and her beautiful eyes\nlooked up with love and humility to the face of her beloved but\ndeeply-wronged husband.\n\n\"Helga, Helga,\" said he gravely, \"is this how you have been faithful\nto your love and your promise?\"\n\n\"Oh, do not be angry with me,\" begged Helga; \"to your spirit-eye\nnothing has been hidden; you know how it all came about--how my\nanxiety for you drove me to seek you--how my father found me, and how\nI was going to show him our kingdom in order to set his mind at rest.\nYou know that the gates were closed against me, and that I was borne\nback unconscious to my old home--that they kept me there by\ncleverly-invented stories, and that at last my father's entreaties\nforced me to the last and hardest step. But you know also that I have\nloved only you, that my heart is yours alone.\"\n\n\"Be judged by thine own words, O Flower of Iceland!\" replied the fairy\nking quietly. \"Why didst thou not listen to the voice of thy heart? We\nfairies know nothing of human weakness, therefore we cannot forgive\nit. Dost thou know the fate that now awaits thee, Helga?\"\n\n\"I know it well,\" answered Helga firmly, \"and if my mouth has been\nunfaithful, my heart has been true. I welcome death, for it will\nreunite me to you!\"\n\nThen a happy smile passed over the fairy king's noble countenance; he\nstretched out his arms, and pressed Helga dying to his heart.\n\nFinding that his wife did not come back, Olaffson hastened with his\nfather-in-law to the stranger's room. They found fair Helga in the\nfairy king's arms. Both were cold and dead; in the same moment both\nhearts had broken. Olaffson tried to take Helga away from the\nstranger's arms, but in vain. What life had robbed him of, he held in\ndeath with a grasp that could not be loosed.\n\n\"Leave them, my son,\" said the old grief-stricken father; \"she is his\nby right. What has all our prudence done for us? Worse than nothing!\nThe fairy king has reclaimed his own in spite of us.\"\n\nThey laid them in the same coffin, and next morning the soil of\nIceland was to receive them into its cold lap. But in the night that\nfollowed this eventful day, sleep fell more heavily than usual on the\neyes of the mourners. They did not hear the whispering of gentle\nvoices or the hasty tread of many feet. They did not see the multitude\nof fairies who had assembled from all parts of the island to show the\nlast honour to their beloved king. Noiselessly the spirits lifted the\ncoffin, carried it out of the house, and away to the rock where fair\nHelga had begged in vain for admission.\n\nTo-day it was not denied her. The magic gates sprang open as the\ncoffin approached. With drooping wings the white birds hovered round,\nand mourned the royal pair in notes of soft lamentation.\n\nAt the shore of the beautiful blue sea the faithful spirits lowered\ntheir burden. There Helga and her fairy husband rest beneath the\nflowers of this paradise, and beside the gentle murmur of the waves.\nOn the branches of the cypress that grows on their grave hangs the\nfairy king's harp. The hand is cold that once touched its chords; but\nwhen the morning breeze sweeps through them, they sound as of old in\nmagic melody. The sweet notes float on the sunbeams through the\nevergreen paradise, pierce the hard rock, and hover as beautiful and\nundying legends over Iceland's heaths and snow-clad hills.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEA-FAIRY.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD MAN BESIDE THE CORPSE OF ANTONIO.]\n\n\nThe evening sun was sinking in a glow of colour on the waters of the\nNorth Atlantic and on the rocky coast of Norway as a youth wandered\nalone by the edge of one of its numerous fiords.\n\nHe was alone in the world; father and mother, brothers and sisters,\nwere all dead, and he strove to still the longings of his heart by the\nwonders of foreign lands.\n\nHe had seen the midnight sun from the cliffs of the North Cape, and\nhis eye now rested in astonished admiration on the firmament and the\nocean, which shone in a splendour unknown to other zones. He stepped\nclose up to the edge of the sea, and looked down at the waves, which\nhere broke in gold-sparkling foam. But from yon rock but a few yards\ndistant he would be better able to enjoy the ever-changing play of the\nwaves; so he went up to it, and laid his hand on one of its jagged\nprojections to aid him in climbing. Then he saw something white and\ngolden gleaming at his feet, and when he leant forward to observe it\nmore closely he saw that it was the form of a young woman who was\nsitting in solitude on this uninhabited strand. Over her garment,\nwhite as spring blossoms, down to the purple hem, fell hair golden as\nthe waves at her feet, and her tender hands lay clasped upon her knee,\nwhile she, dreamy and motionless, looked out upon the sea.\n\nThe young man scarcely ventured to breathe lest he should frighten\nher; but a stone loosened beneath his hand and rolled rattling to the\nground. She looked up and turned her head, and now his glance met a\nface of unimagined beauty.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" she asked, in gentle astonishment; \"and what seekest\nthou here on this world-forsaken shore?\"\n\n\"I wished to see the beauties of Norway,\" he gathered courage to\nanswer, \"and I found them greater than I expected. But who art thou,\nwondrous being, who venturest to stay alone in this solitude, with\nnone save the ocean and yon stern rocks to bear thee company?\"\n\n\"I am the sea-fairy,\" she answered gravely. \"The golden evening\nsunshine, which streamed down into my castle, enticed me to the\nstrand, as it has done many a time before. But thou art the first\nmortal that I have seen here for thousands of years.\"\n\nHe did not answer, but gazed dreamily on her lovely form. In his soul\nthe fairy tales of childhood shone dimly forth--tales of the crystal\ncastle under the sea, and of the fascinating beauty of the sea-fairy;\nand now, could these have been no fables, but reality--sweet tangible\nreality?\n\nFor a moment he covered his eyes with his hand, and looked again. No,\nshe had not vanished. The rosy light of the evening sun lay now on her\nwhite garment, and her beautiful form seemed still more lovely in this\nradiance. She rose slowly, and apparently with the intention of going\naway to the waves, when such burning pain came in the young man's soul\nthat he took his hand from the point of the rock and stepped\nrespectfully, but with firm tread, up to the beautiful lady.\n\n\"No, do not go,\" he begged, raising his hand in earnest entreaty; \"do\nnot go, thou vision of my childhood. But if thou canst not tarry\nlonger here, then take me down into thy ocean kingdom. There is no one\non earth to miss me; and now that I know that thou really dwellest\nbeneath these waves, I shall feel an unappeasable longing after thee,\nas in the days of my childhood, when I lay for hours on the shore of\nmy native land hoping to catch a glimpse of the pinnacles of thy\ncastle.\"\n\nThe fairy stood still, and her eye, blue and fathomless as the ocean\nat the horizon, looked in the young man's face as if to read his soul.\n\n\"Knowest thou what thou askest?\" she said earnestly. \"If I grant thy\npetition and take thee with me, it is for no short amusement, which\nthou canst leave when tired, and wander further at thy will. No; if\nthou go with me it is to stay in my kingdom, and only with thy life\nwilt thou be permitted to release thyself from thy vow. Consider it\nwell. In thy veins flows the blood of a faithless race; but we are of\na different nature. Ingratitude and faithlessness we punish severely,\nand our heart knows no weak pity for those who incur our wrath.\"\n\n\"Try me, lady,\" said the youth, with firm determination. \"Take me with\nthee, and let me serve thee and surround thee with love and obedience;\nand if thou find me faithless, spare not thine anger.\"\n\n\"Come then,\" said the sea-fairy, \"and forget not that it is thine own\nchoice.\" And Antonio, for that was the young man's name, walked\njoyfully beside the wondrous woman towards the waves. She loosed the\nstar-set girdle from her dress, and gave it to the youth. \"Put it on,\"\nshe said, \"that those beneath the waves may recognise thee as one of\nmine;\" and he did as she bade him. Then she gave him her hand, and\nstepped out upon the sea, which grew smooth beneath her foot as a path\nof crystal. Antonio followed joyfully; the magic girdle prevented him\nfrom sinking, and when the shore lay a few steps behind them, the\nglittering plain opened and disclosed a glassy stair that led down\ninto the depths of the ocean kingdom. Did he step down on them, or\ndid they, rising upwards, offer themselves to his foot? He could not\nmake out how it was, for, now that he was led by the fairy's hand and\ngirt with her girdle, earthly laws had no longer power over him. He\nonly knew that they were descending into the water with marvellous\nswiftness, and that the waves of the Gulf Stream, which flows with the\nwarmth of spring around these coasts, played softly round his head and\nshoulders, while he breathed among them as freely as on the air above.\nAnd when he looked upwards he saw the crystal steps break and form\nagain into waves as soon as the foot left them, and above his head the\nsea heaved as was its wont, the great waves following one after the\nother with a glorious play of ever-changing colours.\n\nSoon he stood at the bottom of the sea; and here there was nothing\ndark or gloomy, as we are apt to think, but all around the reflection\nof the evening sky lit the clear depths with golden light.\n\n\"Now thou art in my kingdom,\" said the sea-fairy; \"forget not that it\nis the home of thine own choice.\"\n\nHis eyes shone as he gave a joyful assent. \"His home!\" And he would\nnever long for another; of that he was quite sure.\n\nThey walked together over the soft, shining, golden sand. Not far off\npurple trees rose on their slender stems, and sent their wide branches\nout on every side.\n\n\"That is my coral park,\" said the sea-fairy; \"it stands in wide\ncircles round the ocean castle, and keeps the wild waves far from this\nretreat.\"\n\nSoon they stood at the gate of the magic hedge, and the fairy laid\nher hand upon the rock. Suddenly an electric current seemed to stir\nthe whole line of trees. Thousands of little slumbering creatures\nawoke, and stretched their tiny heads out of the openings between the\nbranches to greet their lady. She, meantime, walked with Antonio\nthrough the intricate paths of the coral grove, till they reached the\nshining plain where the castle of the sea-fairy stood. Its lofty walls\nwere crowned by a glittering roof, over which the waves glided to and\nfro with softest music.\n\nAntonio gazed in happy astonishment on the radiant edifice, which\nexcelled in beauty all the childish dreams of which it reminded him.\n\n\"And may I stay here? and shall I never be obliged to leave this\nsplendour?\" he asked in a gentle whisper; but before the fairy could\nanswer there was a trembling in the waves around. Over the transparent\nroof, and out of the shadows of the coral grove, came myriads of\nlittle star-fishes of violet and rosy hues, and played round the head\nof Antonio and among the sea-fairy's locks like butterflies on a\nsummer day. Then they fluttered away again, and lost themselves in the\ntrembling dance of the waves.\n\nThe beautiful lady, still carefully keeping hold of Antonio's hand,\nwalked now over the watery meadow which surrounded the castle with its\ngentle waves; and when she reached the high-arched portal the\ntransparent gates opened of themselves, and the empress of the ocean\nentered her enchanted palace.\n\nAntonio's eye was dazzled by the splendour all around. Hall after\nhall followed in brilliant succession, and over all stretched the high\narches of the crystal roof, through which the evening sky shed its\nundiminished splendour. Warm and soft as the breath of spring, the\nlittle waves glided through these enchanted rooms and fell back with\ngentle splashing from the crystal walls--now shining like a flood of\ncrimson, now azure blue, and now like liquid amber; thus they mirrored\nthe changing play of colours in the fleeting clouds overhead.\n\nThe sea-fairy looked into Antonio's joyous face. \"Thinkest thou that\nthou canst forget thine earthly home here in my kingdom?\" she asked\ngraciously.\n\n\"Forget it?\" he replied. \"If home is the fairest spot on earth, then I\nhave only found mine now. Henceforth all other places lie eternally\nforgotten. But what is that yonder?\" he asked, pointing to tall green\npillars whose tops reached nearly to the crystal roof.\n\n\"See for thyself,\" said the sea-fairy, and he moved by her side\ntowards the last hall in which the graceful columns stood. And now he\nglides between their slender shafts, and utters a joyous cry as he\nlooks up at the transparent dome, beneath which leafy tree-crowns\nwaved, while little star-fishes gleamed brightly as they glided among\nthe leaves.\n\n\"Palm trees!\" cried Antonio, breathless with astonishment--\"palm\ntrees, such as I have heard rustling by the banks of the Ganges! This\nmust be some delusion, some golden dream, out of which I must sooner\nor later wake. No, no, there are the tender lianas winding round the\nkingly stems, and there in the shadow lurks my lotos flower, the\nmost beautiful of all the gorgeous blossoms of India!\"\n\n[Illustration: ANTONIO IN THE CRYSTAL CASTLE. F. C., p. 178.]\n\nHe dropped the fairy's hand, hastened forward, and looked into the\nshining cup, whose purple streamers trembled in the waves.\n\n\"Yes, indeed, it is the lotos, gleaming in snowy purity like its\nsisters in the holy stream, in whose cup the goddess slumbers. But oh!\nhow camest thou hither, beloved flower? But what do I ask? The holy\nriver of thy favoured home has caught thy falling seed and borne it\nonwards to the sea, and there on its protecting wave thou hast been\nrolled on and on, further and further, towards the south-west, till\nthe warm Gulf Stream received thee. Carried northwards by this current\nof blessing which careful Nature sends to these icy realms, thou\ncamest with broken palm branches and liana sprays into this northern\nfairyland, where the hand of the beauteous sea-fairy gave thee a\nsecond home--one beautiful enough to make thee forget even the sunny\nplains of India.\"\n\nDid the lotos flower think so? Its trembling cup gave no reply, but\nAntonio thought it did. Henceforth the kingdom of the sea-fairy should\nbe his home, and she herself be dear to him as his father and mother\nused to be in the old half-forgotten days. His happiness seemed full\nas he moved by her side through the wide watery realm from one wonder\nto another, while her grave but beautiful mouth explained to him with\neasy eloquence the mysteries of the deep, problems in the solution of\nwhich curious men spend their lives in vain. Round them played the\ngay star-fishes; beside them, on the gleaming sand, thorny ray-fishes\nrolled like silver balls; behind them followed, in many-coloured\nthrong, the fishes large and small, their fins and scales sparkling in\nthe sunlight like silver and precious stones. They glided fearlessly\naround Antonio, let him catch and stroke them, and looked up at him\nwith intelligent eyes when he spoke to them in human words. They did\nnot indeed comprehend what he said, but they all understood the star\npattern on the girdle, which still surrounded his waist with its\nradiant circle, and made him known as the friend of their beloved\nmistress.\n\nYes, it was pleasant to glide through the waves, with beauty, peace,\nand harmony all around; but Antonio thought it more delightful still\nto wander with the majestic fairy through the halls of the crystal\ncastle, to be lifted by gentle waves up to the lofty dome, and to look\nup through its clear vault to the bright sky far overhead.\n\nBut Antonio's happiest moments were spent in the hall of palms, as he\nrested in the shady corner where the lotos bloomed. The flower would\nbend its white cup over his dreamy eyes, and the waves moved the\npurple stamens over his brow as gently as his mother's hand. The water\nflowed about him soft and warm, high overhead the palm trees waved\ntheir leafy tufts, and the sea-fairy glided through the brilliant\nhalls, singing to her golden harp songs sweeter and more enthralling\nthan anything Antonio had ever heard on earth. Is it any wonder then\nthat he forgot his bleak, unmusical home--that he never gave it one\nlonging thought?\n\nThe summer sun had often sent its golden light, unbroken by night's\ndarkness, into the sea-fairy's kingdom; the stars of the winter sky\nhad often twinkled through the crystal roof of the ocean palace; but\nAntonio had taken no heed to the flight of time. The years passed over\nhim in pleasant but monotonous repose; the little waves rippled and\nsang with unchanging cheerfulness; and Antonio hastened from pleasure\nto pleasure, without remembrance, without longing, feeling only the\npresent delight.\n\nThe sunlight of a new summer was making its way into the ocean realm\nwhen Antonio came out of the palace and walked through the gleaming\nwater-meadows. The fairy had been called to a distance by some\nbusiness in a remote part of her extensive kingdom, and Antonio had\nthus been left alone in the castle. But the splendid halls seemed to\nhim only half as beautiful without their lovely queen, and he\ndetermined to seek the society of the merry fishes without. They came\nswimming to meet him, slipped through his fingers, splashed the water\nmerrily with their fins and tails, and formed themselves into a wide\nand brilliant procession behind him as he walked.\n\nSoon the oddly-jagged branches of the coral grove arched above his\nhead. He intended to-day to explore every corner of this lovely park,\nof which he had hitherto seen but one spot. He went further and\nfurther into the maze of trees, and the fishes followed him at every\nstep and glided like silver stars through the deep red branches.\n\nAntonio looked back; the bright sunny plain and the gleaming palace\nhad disappeared, hidden by the dense grove of coral; but to the side\nat the outer edge of the forest he heard a sullen, ceaseless roaring,\nfor the ocean billows rolled high and dark beyond the magic circle.\n\nHe went further; everything became strange and awful. There was not a\nglimpse of the bright familiar regions he knew so well. Purple\ntwilight lay around him, and to the side the darkly rolling ocean; but\nthere before him was a faint glimmering of light which became\ngradually brighter. Could it be the crystal castle which he thought he\nhad left far behind?\n\nAt last he reached the light, and looked down on the scene at his\nfeet. Before him lay an open space, over which the sunlight streamed,\nunhindered, in golden radiance, and under this flood of sunshine\nrested rows of pale, silent sleepers, heart to heart and arm in arm,\nas the rage of the ocean or the anger of the sea-fairy had torn them\naway from their full, warm, joyous life. They had sailed fearlessly in\ntheir trusty ships over the sea, perhaps even rejoicing in their\nnearness to the haven, and in the prospect of happy meetings, when\nthey were suddenly shattered by a hidden reef, or dragged downward by\nthe treacherous whirlpool.\n\nAntonio walked with loudly-beating heart among the sleepers. Here lay\nan old man with long and silvery hair, and his withered hand rested\ntenderly on the head of a beautiful boy; beside him lay a man, whose\nyouthful wife, even in the death-struggle, had not loosed her hold on\nher tender infant; there slept two stalwart youths, their hands\nclasped as in strong affection--they were brothers, as the likeness\nof the features showed. And there--and there--and there, wherever\nAntonio's glance fell, lay forms once beautiful in their youthful\nstrength, now cold and stiff in death. And yet they only seemed to be\nasleep, for, however long they might have rested there, time had made\nno ravages among them. Their features were unchanged, save for a\ndeeper peace; and when the coral branches overhead rocked in the\nwaves, sending their purple shadows over the lonely ocean graveyard,\nthere fell on the faces of the dead something like the reflection of\ntheir former life.\n\nAntonio bent over them, as if to read the last sad thought of the pale\nlips--to learn the last unspoken wish, that he might take it with him\nas a solemn vow, and fulfil it as soon as he could reach the upper\nworld. For the spell of the ocean kingdom was broken at the sight of\nthese white faces, and he longed now for his home, bleak and unmusical\nthough it was. With a deep sigh he took his eyes from this sad scene,\nand advanced to the outer edge of the coral grove, where the lofty\nbranches bent and formed a low network, which divided the\nresting-place of the dead from the raging ocean. He leant with folded\narms against the fence, and looked out on the billowy sea. The huge\nwaves rose black as thunder-clouds, hurled their white froth toward\nheaven, and sank with sullen roar back into the deep. It was a scene\nof fascinating horror, and Antonio could not tear his eyes away.\n\nThen suddenly northwards through the surging waves came something\nstrange, dreadful, horrible. Its long outstretched serpent neck was\nof changing green, and its wide gaping throat was full of sharp\ndestructive teeth; its gigantic body wound dark through the flood--now\ndrawn together, now stretched out in its immeasurable length, so that\neven the lifeless waves shrank back, and Antonio's heart almost ceased\nto beat with dread amazement. Thus the monster of the deep rose in\nslow but ceaseless movements, and its threatening head was raised\nabove the foaming heaps of water beside the coral fence just as\nAntonio caught the first glimpse of its poisonous tail.\n\n\"It is the sea serpent,\" he faltered at last, as soon as he recovered\nhis power of speech--\"the monster of which the fairy told me that\ndeath and destruction follow in its wake. The poor sailors up above on\nthe surface of the water, who have perhaps laughed and mocked at it as\nan exploded fable, will now see and feel it in the last terror of the\ndeath-struggle.\" And he clasped his hands tightly as he gazed upwards\nin an agony of fear.\n\nSuddenly a wide shadow darkened the waters, covering with its gloomy\nwing the purple fence and the golden waves that flowed above the dead.\nAntonio sought for the cause of this phenomenon, and saw far above in\nthe surging sea a low rock which he had not noticed before. Whether\nthe wild waves had torn it from the coast and driven it hither, or\nwhether the storm had forced it up from the bed of the ocean, he knew\nnot; but there it stood, dark and immovable, with the waves dashing\nover it, and the sea serpent gliding round it in foaming coils.\n\nNow he knew for what end the ocean was preparing all its horrors.\nThere, from the south, came a ship with well-filled sails, of firm,\nsubstantial build, and guided by a skilful hand; it seemed to mock at\nthe terrors of the deep, for the deadly rock and the lurking serpent\nwere hidden beneath the water; the huge waves surged above both, and\ncovered them with their foam.\n\nThe captain of the stately vessel saw the heaving waves, but he knew\nthe powers of his noble ship. With flashing eye he stood on the deck,\ncalming the passengers with cheerful words, and shouting his orders to\nthe nimble sailors. He steered his ship confidently right over the\nfamiliar track, in the midst of which the treacherous rock lay waiting\nhis approach.\n\nAntonio watched the ship's advance. His terror-sharpened eye\ndistinguished every mast, every plank. It seemed to him as if he saw\nsmiling, happy, unsuspecting faces bending over the side and nodding\nfriendly greetings to him in his calm, safe depths below. He wrung his\nhands in despair, and cried in his loudest voice, \"Steer to the left;\noh! steer to the left, for to the right lurks double death.\" But the\nnext wave drowned the cry, and granted him not even the faintest echo.\n\nNow, now must the end come--unavoidable and dread. Antonio covered his\neyes in trembling anguish. A sudden crash, one single piercing scream,\nwhich with awful clearness rose above the roar of the ocean and the\nhissing of the serpent, trembled through the waves, and thrilled\nthrough Antonio's loudly-beating heart. His hands fell from his\nblanched face, and he looked up through the sea.\n\nThe waves still rolled, the rock still stood in dreadful gloom, the\nserpent still wound its frightful coils, but the scattered planks of\nthe broken vessel were driven round and round by the mad whirlpool,\nand those who a moment before had smiled in the fulness of life and\nhappiness now wrestled with the waves. Strong men among them, who\nwould not part from life without a struggle, grasped after floating\nplanks, raised themselves above the waves, and looked round for their\ndear ones. But the sea serpent came darting over the white-crested\nbillows, struck with its tail the floating timbers, and sent their\ntrembling burden down to the hungry depths.\n\nHappy were those who, already choked by the water, had sunk down\nunconscious to the bed of the ocean, there to slumber undisturbed. The\nsurvivors were the prey of the monster. With its tail curled in horrid\nrage, its green eyes flashing, and its vast jaws gaping wide, it\ndarted on every man whose powerful arm and stout heart would not give\nup the struggle with the waves, and in a moment his death-cry was lost\nin the sea serpent's horrid throat. With insatiable rage it glided\nfrom one to another till all had perished, and not one was left to\ncarry home the dreadful tale. None would ever know the fate of the\ngoodly vessel and its precious freight.\n\nAntonio had sunk on his knees, and his eyes had followed every motion\nof the sea serpent till the dreadful work was done.\n\nWhen all was over, the sea serpent rocked itself in horrid\nsatisfaction on the waves, and let them drive it at their will. But\nthe dark rock retained the power of motion, and sank slowly down into\nthe deep, making the waves foam and toss as they parted right and left\nto let it pass. Then Antonio perceived that what at a distance he had\ntaken for a rock was a gigantic kraken, one of those sea monsters\nwhich often lie quietly for years at the bottom of the ocean, then\nrise to the surface and lurk with deadly purpose in the path of\nunsuspecting men. He saw the supple, far-reaching polypus-arms, which,\ngrasping at the masts, had cracked them like reeds, and torn the\nplanks asunder with swifter and more complete destruction than the\nmere force of the waves could have accomplished. The snaky limbs were\nfeeling aimlessly about the flood, groping down towards the soft\nsea-bed where the monster would now fasten itself for a long period of\nrepose.\n\nAntonio involuntarily shrank back, although the ocean, with its\nbillows and its still more dreadful monsters, could not break through\nthe coral fence or disturb the sparkling waters of the Gulf Stream. He\nwatched the kraken reach the bottom, settle down in its soft bed, and\ndraw in its long arms as for sleep. Then all became peaceful as\nbefore.\n\nThe wild waves sank to rest, and the ocean flowed still and clear; a\ndeep blue sky arched overhead, the sun shot golden glances through the\nbillows, piercing to the lowest depths, and dyeing with amber light\nthe waves that flowed above the kraken, which lay like a long dark\nhill not far from the coral fence, and parted from it by a narrow\ncurrent.\n\nAntonio stepped back hesitatingly to the fence, and looked through. On\nthe sea-monster's back waved a forest of tall grass wrack, which had\ntaken root there during its long years of inaction. Through the waving\nblades little fishes and sea-urchins glided fearlessly, and lazy\nturtles crept along in the shade. But in the midst, as in a nest of\nbrown moss, lay something like a swan of dazzling whiteness, with\nlifeless outstretched wings. Antonio was gazing fixedly on this\nobject, when a gleaming wave swept through the grass wrack, and raised\nthe dead swan's limbs. The next loosed it from its dreadful\nresting-place, and bore it into the current which flowed towards the\nplace of the dead.\n\nNearer and nearer floated the bird, till it struck against the coral\nnetwork, and Antonio stretched out his arms to grasp it. Then he saw\nthat it was no swan, but a lovely maiden in a wide flowing garment,\nwhom the waves had hurled down from the ship to the sea monster's\nback, and who had thus been borne to her grave. With a sorrowful heart\nhe caught her in his arms, lifted her through the coral fence, and\ncarried her to where the dead lay in their peaceful resting-place.\nThere he laid her by the old man's side, knelt beside the dead maiden,\nand arranged the long fair hair, tossed by the waves, around the pale\nbut lovely face, and folded her marble hands as if in prayer.\n\nThe last duty was fulfilled, and he would now have been free to return\nto the crystal castle, there to revel in new joy and splendour, but he\nstill knelt beside the maiden's corpse, looking dreamily into the\nstill, white face as one looks into a dim, far distance. He knew that\nfrom her sleep there was no awaking; for in these deep waters no\nliving thing could breathe save one that wore, like him, the\nsea-fairy's girdle; she was dead, and must slumber on till the\nresurrection morn. The eyes remained closed, and the mouth could never\nsmile again, yet Antonio gazed at it as if it were about to tell him\nsome dear familiar tale--perhaps the story of his own life. Antonio\nknew the sweet, innocent, tender face, but the flood of fear and\nhorror which had raged for hours in his soul had confused his\nmemories, and he only felt that the eyes and mouth now so firmly\nclosed in death had once smiled at him in love and friendship.\n\n[Illustration: ANTONIO LAYS THE DEAD MAIDEN IN HER LAST\nRESTING-PLACE.]\n\nAt last he rose, cast a last look on the lines of sleepers, stepped\nback into the coral grove, and made his way through the shadowy paths\nback to the sea-fairy's castle.\n\nHis ocean vision had lost its charm, the paradise of his childish\ndreams was laid in ruins; the sunny waves, which so short a time\nbefore had played around him with the soft warmth of summer breezes,\nfelt now so cold that he shuddered, and his breathing became laboured\nand painful.\n\nAgain he rested in the hall of palms, and the stamens of the\nlotos-blossom floated caressingly over his temples, in which the blood\nnow flowed more quickly, for the death-cry of the sinking crew still\nrang in his ears, and before his eyes hovered the pale, beautiful\nimage of the dead maiden.\n\nWhere, ah! where had he seen those features? He looked up into the\nwaving summits of the palms. Could it have been on the banks of the\nGanges that such a mouth had smiled at him, from the band of Hindu\ngirls who passed him every evening with pitchers on their heads on\ntheir way to fetch water from the sacred stream? No, no, it was not\nthere, nor in any of the favoured countries of the new world, that he\nhad seen that face, for there the maidens' hair was of a darker hue.\nNo; no foreign land had ever shown him those sweet features, and his\nthoughts turned to his old, half-forgotten home.\n\nThe palm-trees beneath the crystal dome changed as he gazed into the\nold wide-spreading lime-tree in his father's garden, and the song of\nthe waves in the fairy halls sounded in his ear like the tones of the\nlittle organ which his father played at evening when the day's work\nwas done.\n\nAntonio closed his eyes. Was it to call up more easily the old\nlong-forgotten scenes, or to hide the hot tears which started to his\neyes? It seemed to him as if he lay once more on the round bench below\nthe lime-tree, with his head on his tender mother's lap, and her soft\nhand upon his brow; above him rustled the lime leaves, and through the\nopen windows floated the soft notes of his father's evening song.\nAntonio lay there listening in silence. His mother sat with a happy\nsmile on her loved face, and by her side Antonio's old teacher, on\nwhose lips he and his wild companions hung in rapt attention, as he\ntold them of the strange lands which he had visited in his youth.\n\nOh, what a flood of memories rushed over Antonio's heart!--music and\nfragrance, his mother's gentle hand, and the old man's wonderful\ndescriptions; and in the midst of all a tender, fairy-like child, in a\nsoft white dress and golden hair, who flitted like a sunbeam through\nthe garden paths! When she had gathered enough flowers, she came\nsoftly up, sat down at her father's feet, and wove a garland; Antonio\nkept his eyes closed, not to sleep, but to listen undisturbed. The\nlittle one, thinking him asleep, rose softly and placed the garland on\nhis brow. Then he caught her hands, and playfully held her fast; but\nshe bent over him till her fair locks touched his cheeks and\nwhispered, \"Be quiet, Tony; thy father is telling a story, and does\nnot like to be interrupted;\" and she looked down at him and smiled.\n\nThe riddle was solved at last. It was she. It was the sweet child to\nwhom his wild boyish heart had gone out in tender love, and whose\nimage had gone with him into distant lands till it faded before the\nbrilliant, ever-changing scenes through which he passed. But now it\nstood before him in its old beauty, and he loved her as though they\nhad parted yesterday--now, when she lay cold and stiff among the dead.\n\nHe rose, clasped his hands in anguish, and looked up at the crystal\nroof, through which the evening sky sent all the bright hues of a\nnorthern sunset. But all that he had loved to look on here had no\nbeauty for him now. Within was melody and song and unearthly\nsplendour; without, death, horror, and unutterable grief. He sprang\nup, ran as if hunted through the glittering halls, and out to the\nplain before the castle; but the floods which were wont to send\nfragrance and song and radiance to hail his coming seemed to him now\nfilled with deadly darkness, and the sound of their waves was like\nsuppressed sobbing.\n\nHe turned away shuddering, and, for the first time since he came to\nthe fairy's kingdom, he directed his steps to the coral gate which\nparted the Gulf Stream from the darker billows of the ocean. He passed\nout, and walked in gloomy silence over the sand, which to-day seemed\nto have lost its golden glitter. Soon he stood at the spot where the\ncrystal steps ended, and he looked up longingly through the heaving\nflood.\n\n\"Oh that I could return just once to the free fresh air,\" he\nsighed--\"to my old forsaken home!\" And his wish was fulfilled, for he\nstill wore the starry girdle which made the elements obedient to his\nwill. The waves parted like the petals of a lily, and formed\nthemselves into glassy steps. With a shout of joy Antonio placed his\nfoot on the lowest one, and he scarcely knew whether he moved himself\nor whether the water lifted him from step to step. He saw the blue\nwaters become clearer and clearer, until he stood on the last step,\nhis head rose above the waves, and he drew deep breaths of his native\nair.\n\nWith flashing eye and heaving breast Antonio looked westwards, where\nthe sun's radiant ball rested on a bed of purple clouds, while the\nreflection fell in roseate and amber shadows over the whole heaven,\nand the distant billows flowed like a mantle of royal purple.\n\nBut the waves which bore Antonio to the strand dashed up golden spray\njust as on that summer evening when he descended to the fairy-land\nbelow the sea. There lay also the red rock at which he had first seen\nthe fairy, and with a sigh he bent his steps in that direction. Was\nthere not some one sitting there now? Antonio shaded his eyes with his\nhand, for he was still dazzled by the unaccustomed light. It was no\nillusion. There, where the fairy once sat, was to-day a bent and aged\nfigure, and instead of the golden locks flowed silvery hair about the\ntemples.\n\n\"A human being!\" was Antonio's first ecstatic thought as he ran across\nthe strand.\n\n\"Good evening, sir,\" he cried joyfully.\n\nThe old man raised his weary head, and his sad eyes rested with\nindifference upon the youth. But the last few hours had changed\nAntonio. The veil had fallen from his eyes and heart, and he saw now\nwith the keen true eye of childhood. The hair on the old man's head\nhad indeed grown whiter since he saw it last, and sorrow had graven\nits deep lines on the high forehead; but it was the same clear-cut\nmouth to whose words Antonio had once listened with burning eagerness,\nand in the dark eyes still flashed something of the old fire. It was\nhis aged teacher, the father of the pale, beautiful maiden among the\ndead in the ocean depths.\n\n\"Do you not know me, revered sir?\" asked Antonio, with faltering\nvoice, as he bowed in courteous greeting.\n\nThe old man looked at him again.\n\n\"No,\" he said slowly, \"I did not notice you among the crew; but though\nyou are a stranger, I am glad that you are saved. I thought I was the\nonly survivor from the shipwreck.\"\n\n\"Look at me once more, sir,\" said Antonio, trying to steady his\nfaltering voice, \"and turn back a few pages in your life's history.\nThink of a little garden, and of an old lime-tree beneath whose leafy\nroof you often sat, while the sweet tones of an organ thrilled through\nthe summer air.\"\n\nThe old man's eyes shone more brightly, and his lips trembled.\n\n\"Antonio!\" he stammered out, \"Antonio!\" and his white head sank on the\nshoulder of his favourite pupil, who knelt before him with his arm\nwound in filial tenderness round the childless man.\n\n\"Oh, Antonio! I have lost my child to-day, only to-day. She would not\nlet me go alone to the distant north, to which some luckless impulse\ndrove me in my old age, and so she came with me on my toilsome\njourney. Today we struck on a hidden reef, and the same wave which\ndashed her against the dark rock drove me, despite my struggling, on\nthis barren strand, though I would fain lie with my darling child\nbelow the waves.\"\n\nThe old man covered his face with his hands, and Antonio did not\nventure on any words of consolation.\n\n\"If I could even find her corpse,\" said the poor old man at last, \"I\ncould bury her at home; but even the sad consolation of visiting her\ngrave is denied me.\"\n\n\"She has found a better resting-place than you could give her,\" said\nAntonio--\"she sleeps on a golden bed; a coral grove surrounds the\nspot; corruption has no power over her fair features, and no worm can\ntouch her. Amid noble companions she slumbers, while the sunbeams kiss\nher snowy eyelids, and the warm waters of the Gulf Stream flow gently\nover her.\"\n\n\"How do you know all this, Antonio?\" asked the old man in\nastonishment.\n\nAnd Antonio told him about that evening when he met the beautiful\nsea-fairy at this very rock, and descended with her into her ocean\nkingdom, there to live in forgetfulness of home and friends, until,\nawakened by what he had seen and felt to-day, the old memories\nacquired new power over him, and throbbed more strongly than ever in\nhis soul.\n\n\"What will you do now, my son?\" asked the old man.\n\n\"I will go home with you,\" Antonio answered promptly. \"I will be to\nyou a devoted and obedient son, if you will but let me.\"\n\nThe old man gazed at him with beaming eyes.\n\n\"Then let us go,\" he said, rising, \"for I long to leave this place of\nhorror. In a few hours we shall reach the little harbour in which we\ncast anchor yesterday evening, and there we can embark in a\nhomeward-bound ship.\"\n\n\"Let it be as you will, my father,\" replied Antonio. \"But one duty\nremains yet unfulfilled. If the sea-fairy had led me by deceit or\nviolence into her kingdom, flight would be but right; but I went of my\nown free will, bound myself to obedience and unchanging fidelity, and\nenjoyed her kindness and hospitality. It seems to me cowardly and\nungrateful to go away secretly, without a word of thanks or of\nfarewell, and the thought of this would destroy my happiness at home.\nTo-day she is to return. I will go to meet her, tell her what broke\nthe spell of her kingdom, and beg her to let me go in peace, and with\nher blessing. Wait for me here. The air of this zone is soft, and its\nnight skies clear. Before the bright night changes to the brighter\nday, I will come back to leave you no more.\"\n\nHe kissed the old man's hand, and went towards the sea. Meantime the\nfairy had returned. The open coral gate and the empty halls of her\npalace told her that Antonio was gone. Her soul was filled with grief\nand rage. He was one, indeed, of that faithless race whom she already\nknew and hated; but his eye and heart had still that divine image\nwhich she sought in vain among the cold, dumb creatures of the ocean,\nand in comparison with which the beauty and harmony of her fairy realm\nseemed poor and unsatisfying. He had become very dear to her. She had\nbegun to believe in his fidelity only to find herself once more\ndeceived. But, as she had told him, the weak pity of mortals found no\nroom in her heart. She did not complain, and no word of anger escaped\nher firm-set lips. She would go up to punish the faithless one, if he\nwas still within her reach, according to her former threatenings.\n\nShe passed through the coral gate to the place where the heaving steps\nled to the world above. She beckoned, and the rocking staircase grew\nfirm beneath her tread. Just as she set her foot on the first step,\nAntonio began to descend. They met half-way in the midst of the sea.\nAntonio trembled, as she stood before him in the full splendour of her\nmagic beauty and her overwhelming majesty and might, and his soul\nshrank from her, and turned with ardent longing to his own loved home.\n\n\"Whence comest thou?\" she asked sternly, although her keen ear heard\nthe story of the last few hours in the louder beating of his heart.\n\"Whence comest thou?\" Then he gathered courage to tell her all, and\nbegged her to let him go in peace.\n\n\"Rememberest thou not that summer evening when thou insistedst on\ncoming with me, notwithstanding my warning?\" she asked in the same\nsevere tone.\n\n\"Yes,\" Antonio faltered.\n\n\"And dost thou not remember my threat, and thy demand that I should\npunish thee if thou shouldst break thy faith?\"\n\n\"I remember it all,\" Antonio said, with trembling lips.\n\n\"And in the face of all this dread and certain future dost thou still\ndream of leaving me?\"\n\n\"I cannot do otherwise,\" he cried passionately; \"the ocean kingdom has\nlost its charm since I have seen the gulf of irreconcilable enmity\nwhich divides it from my race--since it has robbed me of what was once\nmy heart's dearest treasure. No, proud lady, let me go; I should be\nhenceforth but a dismal guest.\"\n\nHer eyes grew dark and fathomless as the deep sea beneath them.\n\n\"Go,\" she said slowly, \"but first loose thy girdle.\"\n\nHe drew a deep breath of hope and delight, took the starry girdle from\nhis waist, and gave it to the fairy. She took it, looked once more\ninto his face, and glided down over the breaking steps.\n\nAntonio turned to seek the upper world, but the stair above him had\nvanished, the step on which his foot rested melted from beneath him,\nand he found himself floating through the dark, deep waters. But the\nwaves flowed no longer soft and free as spring breezes over his head\nand breast. With his girdle he had given up his power over them, and\nnow he was but a weak mortal struggling with the raging elements. The\nwaves roared round him, and tossed him hither and thither like a\nball, while he strove in vain to breathe. He looked up to measure the\ndistance, then he struggled with all the strength of despair against\nthe waves. His young strong arm bore him upwards; once more he raised\nhis head above the flood and breathed the air of heaven. His eye\nsought the red rock on which his old teacher sat, with his arms\nstretched out helplessly towards his adopted son, whose desperate\nstruggles he had no power to help.\n\n\"I am coming, I am coming, my father,\" he cried confidently, but a\ngiant billow swept over the youth and hurled him down into the boiling\ndeep.\n\nThe evening hues were fading from the ocean, and the old man still\nstood beside the rock, his hands clasped, and his eyes gazing fixedly\non the now tranquil deep. A dark object came floating from the west,\nand the waves left it on the beach almost at the old man's feet. He\nraised his dark eyes and looked at the motionless form, then he rose\nand walked with tottering footsteps to the spot. There lay Antonio,\npale, cold, and dead. He had kept his word; before the bright night\nhad passed into the brighter morning he had come back, but not as he\nhad dreamed and hoped. The old man's trembling hands dug his grave at\nthe foot of the red rock where Antonio had first seen the fairy. Then\nhe turned his footsteps towards his distant, lonely home.\n\nAs soon as evening came again to visit earth and ocean, the sea-fairy\nrose through the waves, went up to the rock, and sat down beside the\nrock beneath which Antonio lay. There she sat, silent and motionless,\nher white hands lying idly in her lap, and her dreamy eyes looking\nout on the heaving billows; but down her beautiful face ran great\ntears, that shone in the light of the setting sun, and told the pain\nthat throbbed in her proud and lonely heart.\n\nNot till the hues of evening gave place to the rosy tints of dawn did\nthe sea-fairy go back to her ocean kingdom, never to return to earth.\n\nNo mortal eye has since beheld her, and the old saga of the sea-fairy\nis no longer heard along the coast of Norway.\n\nAntonio's resting-place is desolate, as of old. It is known only to\nthe Norwegian sky, which looks down brightily and sunnily upon it, and\nthe little waves sometimes dash over it, sparkling like the\nsea-fairy's tears.\n\n\n\n\nThe Faithful Goblin.\n\n[Illustration: FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH PUCK.]\n\n\nA Castle stood long years ago on a lofty hill in the old land of\nHesse. Not a stone of its proud walls is now standing, and even its\nsite is well-nigh forgotten by tradition; but in those days its high\npinnacles were seen for miles over the country, and a haughty and\nnoble race ruled in its halls.\n\nThe beams of the setting sun were falling through the little\nlead-framed window-panes into a round turret chamber, and rested on\nthe fair hair of a lovely little girl. She was kneeling on an\narm-chair beside the window, leaning her head on her little rounded\narms, and weeping silent but bitter tears.\n\n\"Oh, Margaret, Margaret, why are you so long?\" she cried at length,\nsobbing aloud, as she slipped down from her seat and ran to the door;\nbut the massive door of the castle chamber was too high for the little\nhand to reach to open it, and the thick oaken panels kept any sound of\nher crying from reaching friendly ears.\n\nEverybody was far away--everybody, even Margaret her nurse, who,\nforgetful of her duty, had left the child alone while she was watching\nwhat was going on at the splendid banquet which was being given to\ncelebrate the betrothal of the eldest daughter of the noble house.\n\n\"Oh, Margaret, dear Margaret, come to your little Maude!\" cried the\nchild again, as she rose on tiptoe and tried to open the lofty door.\nBut her efforts were in vain, her entreaties all unheard; and at last\nshe went back to the window, for it was beginning to grow gradually\ndusk in the high-ceiled turret chamber. She climbed up again to the\narm-chair, leaned her arm against the window-sill, and looked with\nsilent weeping into the glowing red of the evening sky, where little\nwhite clouds were swimming like swans in a sea of crimson.\n\n\"Maude, Maude!\" said a clear voice suddenly at the other side of the\nroom.\n\nThe child turned her head in astonishment; at the fireplace there\nstood a little boy, not any bigger than herself, and with just the\nsame lovely golden hair and rosy face. His coat was of red velvet, and\nhis feet were encased in little buckskin boots, richly embroidered\nwith costly pearls.\n\nMaude's tears forgot to flow. Half terrified, half delighted, she kept\nher eyes fixed on the form of the beautiful little stranger, and at\nlast she asked shyly, \"Who are you, little boy, and how did you get\nin? The door is still shut!\"\n\nThe little fellow laughed merrily, and came towards Maude's chair.\n\n\"Ah, Maude! you have known me this long time. Just think now; doesn't\nMargaret always threaten to call me when you won't go to sleep at once\nat night?\"\n\n\"You don't mean to say you are Puck, our castle goblin, who has played\nso many tricks on people that everybody is afraid of him?\" asked the\nlittle girl quite fearlessly; \"but they always speak of him as old and\nwrinkled.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am he,\" nodded the little boy; \"but I only tease wicked people\nwho tease me, and I am old and ugly only in their eyes. But I will not\ntease you, but serve you whenever I can, and play with you when\nMargaret leaves you alone, so that you need not be afraid of me. Would\nyou like that, Maude?\"\n\n\"Indeed I should,\" said the child, with beaming eyes, \"I am so often\nalone, now that dear mother is dead. Father is always out hunting. I\nam too little for my sisters, and Margaret so often goes to gossip\nwith the other servants, and shuts me up here. She has been so long\naway now that I am hungry, and it is getting dark, and she is not\ncoming with candles and supper.\"\n\n\"You shall have both immediately, Maude; just wait a minute!\" cried\nthe little boy eagerly, as he hastened back to the fire, swung himself\nup by the iron bars, and climbed nimbly and easily up the chimney.\n\nMaude had got down from her chair, and was standing in astonishment\nlooking up after him.\n\n\"Oh! you will spoil your lovely coat, dear Puck!\" she cried anxiously;\nbut the only answer was a merry laugh from the goblin. Then all was\nstill, and the little fellow had vanished.\n\nShe stood with clasped hands, looking expectantly up the dark, strange\nroad which little Puck had chosen. She felt that it was all so\nmysterious, and yet so delightful; it was just like waiting on\nChristmas Eve for the presents. Then there was a rustling and\nclattering away high up, and quick as a squirrel the little fellow\nclambered down the sooty wall, and in a twinkling he laid his burden\ndown before the astonished child.\n\n\"Just wait a minute,\" he cried merrily, \"and you will see how light it\nwill be!\"\n\nAs he spoke he climbed up the wall, and in a moment the silver sconces\nwere radiant with lighted wax candles.\n\nThe little girl clapped her hands in delight.\n\n\"That is not all,\" said the goblin with an air of importance; \"just\nlook here.\"\n\nHe opened the basket which he had brought with him. With magic\nquickness, the table was covered and set with the daintiest dishes.\n\nMaude needed no pressing to taste them.\n\n\"Oh you good Puck,\" she said gratefully, \"how kind you are to me! Did\nMargaret give you all that?\"\n\n\"Margaret, indeed!\" answered the goblin, growling; \"she has no time to\nthink of you. She is too busy staring at what's going on, and tasting\nstolen bits.\"\n\n\"But who gave you all this--this delicious cake and this splendid pie?\nThis must surely be the dish that Margaret says cook is so proud of!\"\n\n\"Yes, that it is!\" said the little fellow, nodding; \"and the guests\nmade such faces when it suddenly vanished from before their eyes that\nI nearly died with laughing at them--ha, ha, ha!\"\n\n\"Vanished?\" asked the child in astonishment.\n\n\"Yes, vanished!\" laughed Puck; \"do you think they would have given it\nof their own accord; I put on my cap, so that they did not see me, and\nthen I packed up everything that I thought you would like.\"\n\nMaude dropped the bit that she was just putting to her mouth, and\ngazed incredulously at her little friend.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" she asked anxiously.\n\nThe little fellow laughed heartily.\n\n\"Look,\" said he, as soon as he was able to control himself; \"do you\nsee this little red cap? I have had it under my arm all the time I\nhave been talking to you; now I am going to put it on!\"\n\nIn a moment he had vanished from the child's sight--though she peered\nanxiously about the room, she could see nothing. Not a gleam of his\nred coat nor of his golden hair was to be seen at all, yet his clear\nlaugh close beside her told her that he was there and as near as ever.\n\n\"Oh, Puck, dear Puck, don't play such tricks, please,\" she begged; \"I\nam afraid when you do that.\"\n\nThat instant he stood again before her, handsome and merry, shaking\nhis golden locks and smiling.\n\n\"You must not be frightened,\" he said soothingly; \"I will always be\nvisible for you, and my cap will only be used in your service. Now\ngive me something to eat. No, not that cake! Break me some white bread\ninto this dish, and pour some nice white milk over it; that's what I\nhave been accustomed to for generations. In your great-grandfather's\ntime the good maid used to leave me some every evening, and in return\nI used to help with all sorts of work about the house. Now, men are\nnot so good-natured, and won't give me my dues, and so I don't care to\nbe friendly with them.\"\n\n\"My good Puck,\" said the little girl, handing him his bowl, \"you shall\nwant for nothing now! I get white bread and milk every evening for\nsupper, and I will always go shares with you.\"\n\nThen the friends ate their supper with keen appetites, chatting all\nthe while like old acquaintances. At last sleep overcame the tired\nchild. Then Puck sat at the foot of her couch, and sang a strange,\nsoft, sweet lullaby. As soon as Maude was asleep, the goblin busied\nhimself in removing all the traces of their feast; and when Margaret\nreturned late at night, with many misgivings about her neglected duty,\nshe found the child in a quiet sleep, instead of being, as she feared,\nready to receive her with bitter reproaches.\n\nMargaret breathed more freely, and resolved to be more mindful of her\ncharge in future. For a few days she kept her resolution faithfully,\nbut she soon began to slip out in the twilight to chat with a friend,\nonly for a few minutes, as she assured Maude. It was not long till the\nminutes became a half-hour, and in a week or two she had forgotten all\nher repentance and good resolutions, and poor little Maude would have\nhad cause again for bitter tears if it had not been for her little\nfriend.\n\nScarcely had the door closed after Margaret, when the goblin popped\nhis fair head out of the chimney, and sprang into the room with a\nmerry greeting. Then Maude would clap her hands with delight, for now\nbegan the pleasantest hour of the day. There was no end to the stories\nthat Puck could tell for her entertainment. For hours together, while\nher nurse was away, the child sat motionless, with clasped hands,\nlistening with bated breath to tales about days long gone by. For\nhundreds of years the little goblin had lived in the castle as an\nhonoured member of the household, and his memory preserved more\nfaithfully than the family chronicle the history of every individual\nof the long ancestral line. And before the astonished child the grave\nseemed opened, and the forefathers who had long since mingled with the\ndust all passed in the bloom of youth before her eyes. Then she would\ngo to the ancestral hall, and standing before the pictures gaze at\nthem, now in love, now in horror, for she knew the story connected\nwith each one of the old portraits.\n\nNo one in the whole castle knew of the child's friendship with Puck.\nShe was afraid that the servants might tease him if they knew of his\npresence, or perhaps drive him away, so she kept her secret\ncarefully.\n\nIt was winter. The snow lay deep, the storm howled at night and\nwhistled in the wide chimney, and the windows were covered with thick\nfrost.\n\n\"Poor Puck,\" said Maude one evening, as the goblin came down the\nchimney, his teeth chattering with cold, \"I cannot allow you to stay\nany longer up there. See, your hair is white with frost and snow, and\nyou are trembling all over.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said the little fellow; \"it is very cold.\"\n\n\"Look here, then,\" said the child, going to her dolls' corner, and\ndrawing aside the curtain; \"I have turned out the dollies. You shall\nhave the big four-post bed, and in the day-time you can stay here too.\nI have set a little table and chair for you, so that you may have\nsomething like a little room till the summer comes.\"\n\nSo all winter long Puck crept at night into the warm, soft little bed,\ninstead of springing back at Margaret's return up the cold dark\nchimney.\n\nSpring came with its primroses and fleecy clouds, and then followed\nsummer with its splendour of flowers in field and grove.\n\nAnd now Maude and her nurse used to go out into the woods, to the\nchild's intense delight. But one day Margaret found the sun too warm\nand the way too long for her lazy mood, and was easily persuaded to\nsit down and rest while Maude ran to gather wild strawberries.\n\nScarcely was she out of sight of her nurse when Puck, who had\ninvisibly accompanied her, took off his cap, threw it into the air\nwith a shout, and stood before his little friend laughing his own\nmerry laugh. What delightful hours those were! What rich beds of\nstrawberries Puck knew--what choice flowers he could find! Then, when\nthe child was tired, she threw herself down on the moss, with Puck at\nher side, and they both gazed up into the green tree-tops.\n\nThe goblin understood the language of Nature. He heard what the trees\nwhispered to each other about the trees of Paradise, with the golden\nstems and the flowers of precious stones; he understood the song of\nthe nightingale as he sang to his mate about the beauty of the bird\nPhoenix and its undying youth; he saw the beetles gleaming in the\ngrass, and heard even their soft sounds as they talked about their\nbrothers in the distant Indies, whose wings gleam so like emeralds\nthat the dark-eyed Hindoo women use them to deck their raven hair; and\neven the silent, lifeless stone had an intelligible language for\nPuck--it told him of the diamonds far away beyond the seas, which the\npoor slave seeks with eager eyes, trying to find one large enough to\npurchase his freedom. All this he understood, and told the child about\nit as she listened in silent rapture, and gazed up into the whispering\ntrees.\n\nThus, in pleasant alternation, the seasons rolled by, and Maude\nblossomed into maidenly grace and loveliness. She had become her\nfather's darling. Many an hour that he had formerly spent at the chase\nor at the wine-cup he now passed with his daughter, amused with her\nastonishing tales out of the family history. But she never would tell\nhim how she got all her knowledge, for she shrank from bringing\ntrouble on the faithful goblin, who still continued to be her friend,\nand the companion of her hours of solitude.\n\nMaude's only unmarried sister, Gertrude, was about to be united to a\nbrave young knight, whom she had chosen in preference to a powerful\nbut universally dreaded Earl, whose castle stood at no great distance.\n\nAt the marriage, Maude appeared for the first time among the grown-up\npeople, and, as befitted the occasion, she received as attendant page\nthe son of a neighbouring nobleman, who, being an old friend of her\nfather's, had allowed his son to come and learn knightly service in\nthe household of Maude's father, preparatory to his filling an office\nin the Imperial Court. He was a handsome youth, a little older than\nhis young mistress, with brown hair and dark, dreamy eyes, and Maude\ntook an innocent pleasure in the beauty of her future attendant; but\nPuck looked not well pleased when she told him about her new page.\n\n\"I will send him away if I don't like him,\" said he angrily.\n\n\"Oh no, dear, dear Puck, you must not do that!\" said Maude coaxingly.\n\"If you love me, be kind to him; he is motherless, as I am.\"\n\nBut the little goblin was offended for the first time since the\nbeginning of their friendship, and when Maude went to rest he refused\nthe soft little doll's bed that had grown so dear to him, and sprang\ninstead up the chimney to the top of the tower. There he sat looking\ngloomily up at the stars, and many were the sad thoughts that chased\neach other through his ancient breast.\n\nNext morning, when Gero came to the turret chamber with a bouquet of\nflowers for his young mistress, he found Puck seated beside her in the\nwindow-sill watching her at her spinning. The goblin had put on his\ninvisible cap at Gero's entrance, but it was of no avail, for the page\nhad been born during the ember weeks, and could see the little fellow\nin spite of the charm.\n\n\"Why, Lady Maude,\" he cried in angry astonishment, \"who is this that\nyou have in your company? It cannot surely be one of the goblins who\ndo so much mischief.\"\n\n\"Puck has been my friend and companion from my childhood up,\" said\nMaude, a little hotly; \"and I have to thank him for many a pleasant\nhour.\"\n\n\"That may be,\" answered Gero, \"but he must not take my place with my\nmistress. And now your palfrey is ready, and I will escort you on your\nride.\"\n\nThen the goblin's wrath broke loose. He called Gero a proud fool, and\nsaid he would not let him interfere with him. Then he followed Maude,\nwho descended the winding turret stair, her mind full of distress at\nthe discord between her companions. When she sprang to her saddle at\nthe castle gate, Puck jumped up behind her, as was his wont, and went\ntrotting merrily off with her down the mountain. But his pleasure was\nnot to last long, for scarcely had they reached the broad, even road,\nwhen Gero rode up to the side of his lady's horse, caught little Puck\nsuddenly, and set him before himself on his saddle.\n\nThe goblin would have been able easily to free himself from the hand\nof the youth, if it had not been that Gero had wisely taken possession\nof the invisible cap, and all the little fellow's efforts to release\nhimself only increased his tormentor's mockery. At last, when Gero set\nhim down again at the castle gate, Puck clenched his little fist, and\ngrowled, \"I will pay you back for this.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"GERO CAUGHT PUCK SUDDENLY AND SET HIM BEFORE HIM ON\nHIS SADDLE.\"]\n\nFrom this time on the page had little peace. At night Puck would slip\ninto his room, and disturb his sleep with all sorts of malicious\ntricks; and once he even lifted Gero from his bed, and laid him down\nclose to the edge of the great well, hoping that, waking with a start,\nhe might fall into the cold, deep water. Gero escaped the danger, but\nthe adventure taught him to keep on terms of at least outward peace\nwith his little foe.\n\nMaude did her part towards preserving this show of harmony by\nallowing Gero alone to accompany her when she went to walk or ride,\nand by granting the little goblin the old cosy morning and twilight\nhours.\n\nPuck accepted this arrangement with some grumbling. When the hour came\nfor the ride, he would mount to the top of the tower, and look after\nthe riders, as they trotted along so cheerfully, with a sad look in\nhis eyes.\n\n\"But he can't tell her stories like mine,\" he said exultingly; \"no, he\ncan't take my place there.\"\n\nNo indeed; the young page had never listened to the language of\nNature, but he had delightful things to tell about tournaments and\nnoble deeds, and the soft voice of the forest trees began to die\ngradually from the girl's soul, overpowered by the noise and bustle of\nlife.\n\nVery pleasantly the maiden's days went by. The morning hours in the\nturret chamber grew more and more dear to her; the rides in the green\nwood and the tales of the unknown world had every day new charms; and\nin the warm evenings her wise goblin friend used to tell her wonderful\nthings about the stars, as the two stood on the top of the old tower\nwatching the far-off lights peep out one by one.\n\nOne night, as she lay dreaming sweet dreams, woven out of memories of\nthe day's delights, she was awakened by Puck's sudden call.\n\n\"Quick, quick! do you not hear anything?\" cried the little fellow\nanxiously; \"rise and flee for your freedom and your life.\"\n\nMaude started up in terror.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" she cried.\n\n\"The powerful Earl, whom your sister refused, has heard that your\nfather is absent, and has come to take a mean revenge by robbing your\nfather of his wealth and of his child.\"\n\n\"What am I to do, good Puck?\" cried Maude in bitter anguish, clasping\nher trembling hands.\n\n\"Dress quickly, and let us go.\"\n\n\"Through the midst of the enemy?\" asked the maiden, trembling, for she\nheard the oaken stairs creaking with the tramp of many feet.\n\n\"Yes, right through the midst of the enemy,\" said Puck, \"but not\nwithout my cap. Cover me with your cloak, and put this on your head.\nNow, no one can see us.\"\n\nSo they passed unseen through the midst of the rough soldiers. Once\nMaude nearly betrayed herself when she saw Gero fighting single-handed\nagainst a multitude of foes. The winding stair that led to his lady's\nturret chamber was narrow enough to be defended by one, and with the\ncourage of a lion he guarded the way to the place where he believed\nhis precious charge to be.\n\nHow hard it was for Maude to keep from telling him that his efforts\nwere needless! But Puck laid his little hand against her lips, and\nforced her to silence.\n\n\"Puck, dear Puck, can you not save him?\" cried the maiden, in\ndistress, when they were once outside the castle walls.\n\n\"Not till your safety is beyond a doubt,\" said the little goblin\nresolutely; \"not till you are away in the depth of the forest, where\nthey will never be able to find you.\"\n\nWith trembling haste Maude ran towards the wood, but the way was long,\nand her eager feet tottered under her. Turning to look towards the\ncastle, she saw flames bursting from door and window. Still more\nanxiously she pressed on till the tall forest trees hid the castle\nfrom her sight. Even then Puck refused to leave her.\n\n\"Would Gero, who has, I confess, done his duty by you--would he, since\nhe seems to love you, wish me to go back to save him a little trouble,\nand leave you unsheltered?\"\n\nFurther and further they went through the very scenes where Puck had\nspent so many pleasant hours with his child-friend. But now, the trees\nthat used to whisper so softly looked down like grim giants, and the\nnight-wind in the branches howled \"Flee!\"\n\nSuddenly a gleam of light broke on their path with a mild silvery\nradiance. A gentle murmur of water fell on the wanderer's ear, and in\na few minutes they stood by the side of a valley, which here,\nforgotten by the world, lay like a home of peace in the heart of the\nforest.\n\nThere, in the shelter of a mossy rock, stood the cosy cottage of the\nold forest-warden. The moonbeams flashed back from the single window,\nand trembled on the stone bench before the door. The cottage was\nuninhabited, for the good old man whose home it had once been had\nyears since passed away, and his office had never been filled. Yet\nnothing bore traces of decay. There was even a bright fire on the\nhearth, and a boiling kettle hung upon the hook above it. For the old\nforest-warden had been a good friend to Puck, and the little fellow\nloved to keep the little cottage as neat and homelike as it used to\nbe.\n\nMaude smiled gratefully as she looked around. \"Thanks, dear Puck,\" she\nsaid; \"now hasten back to Gero. I will lie down on this nice bed of\nfragrant moss, and I will not be afraid, I promise you.\"\n\nWhen Puck returned, he found that the maiden's weariness had overcome\nher anxiety, but he knew by the tears that trembled on her eyelashes\nthat she was thinking, even in dreams, of her brave page, and he\ndreaded to tell her when she awoke that he had not been able to find\nany trace of the faithful Gero. A great portion of the turret stair\nhad fallen in, and among the bodies that lay piled beneath its ruins\nit was impossible to distinguish any one.\n\nWhen the maiden woke, she almost for a moment fancied herself in her\nown turret chamber, for there, at the open window, stood the\nrichly-carved arm-chair, the one carefully-preserved souvenir of her\nsainted mother, where Maude had so often sat and chatted with her\nlittle friend, and there in the corner stood her harp and the silver\nspindle, with its snowy thread.\n\nBut alas! she soon remembered the terrors of the night, and when, in\nanswer to her questioning look, Puck told her, with faltering voice,\nhis fears for Gero, the maiden's grief found vent in bitter weeping.\n\nBut Puck would not allow her to dwell on these sad thoughts. Drawing\naside a curtain that hung against the wall, he disclosed to her\nastonished eyes the portraits of her dear parents, which had hung\njust so in her own room at home. And while she stood gazing on the\nbeloved faces, her hands clasped in silent emotion, the flame was\ncrackling on the hearth beneath the bubbling kettle, and Puck was\nrummaging in cupboards and chests, rattling with plates and cups, and\npreparing a meal for himself and his dear charge.\n\nMaude, with the happy buoyancy of youth, half forgot her trouble of\nthe night, while her colour came back with the needed food, and her\nheart was cheered by Puck's pleasant chatter, so willing was she to\nbelieve his prophecies of better days.\n\n\"You must stay here, Maude,\" he said, \"until your father returns, and\ntill he has punished the wicked Earl for his malice. For you would not\nbe as safe, even in your father's protection, as here in this forest\nretreat. So be patient, and I will give you back in time to your\nfriends, even to Gero, if he still lives, though that will be the\nhardest thing of all. But I know now that he was worthy of you, or he\ncould not have fought as he did last night. It was nobly done!\"\n\nAnd the little fellow rubbed his hands with delight, which he felt, in\nspite of himself, in thinking of that valiant defence.\n\n\"You would have been friends yet if he had lived,\" said Maude\ntearfully. \"Two such dear, good people could not have been enemies all\ntheir lives.\"\n\nDays and weeks passed by, and still Maude was kept in her place of\nconcealment. From time to time Puck went out to see what was going on\nbetween the hostile noblemen. The report brought back was always the\nsame--\"The Earl is sending out spies--I see them lurking in all\ndirections--to find out your retreat, for they seem to know that you\nescaped the fire, or to suspect it from not finding your body among\nthe dead. He wants to take you now as a hostage against your father's\nvengeance.\" Then, when Maude's cheek would pale at the words, he would\nadd, \"But they cannot find you in the midst of this thicket.\"\n\nSo the maiden still stayed in the forest cottage, and if her grief\nabout Gero and her longing for her beloved father had not gnawed at\nher heart, she could have been nearly as happy in the lovely valley as\nshe was once in her old home.\n\nPuck was at work every morning by break of day, as if he wanted to\nmake up for a century of idleness, nor would he ever allow Maude to\nshare his household toil. But she sat spinning on the stone bench at\nthe door, while he bustled cheerily about the little cottage. Then,\nwhen all the work was done, they would go into the wood, and it seemed\nas if the old days had come back again. For they still lay on the soft\nmoss gazing into the shady trees while Puck told his marvellous\nstories.\n\nAutumn and winter came, and the leisure hours were spent now by the\ncheery fire that burned on the clean-swept hearth. Never was there\nsuch a servant or such a merry companion as the little faithful\ngoblin.\n\nAt last spring came. And now Puck went away every day to see what was\ngoing on at the wicked Earl's castle, for Maude's father had laid\nsiege to his enemy's stronghold, hoping to force him to give up the\ndear one whom he believed to be imprisoned within those walls. Puck\nnever let the sorrowing father know of his child's safety, for he did\nnot wish her to be removed from his protection till her powerful enemy\nhad been reduced by war, or even slain.\n\nAs the wood grew greener, the hopes of the besiegers waxed daily\nbrighter. The fall of the castle was sure, and its defence could last\nbut a few days longer.\n\nThis was the news which Puck brought home one day as he came to the\nnoonday meal, and when he again went out to get further information,\nor, if possible, lend, unseen, a helping hand to the besiegers, Maude\nsat on the stone bench before the cottage, and tried to busy her\ntrembling fingers with her spinning. But Puck was longer absent than\nusual, and she asked herself anxiously should she regard it as a good\nsign or the contrary.\n\nAt last she could stand it no longer. She rose and went along the\nnarrow path by which she had come to her place of refuge. She had\nnever before ventured alone through those forest shades; but the birds\nsang sweetly as she passed along, and she thought their cheerful\nvoices bid her hope.\n\nSoon she came to the scenes familiar to her from her childhood. Here\nwas the place where Margaret used to sit and rest, and there--what\nmemories filled her soul with sad emotion!--there was the old\noak-stump on which she had sat by Gero's side, as he told her of the\ngreat world of which she knew so little. And now the eloquent mouth\nwas silent, and her faithful page had fallen in her defence, for\nPuck, in all his journeys to the castle, had never seen Gero among the\nbesiegers.\n\nShe leant her head against a tree-stem, and wept long and bitterly.\nThen she raised her head to take one more look at the sacred spot. But\nwere her tear-filled eyes deceiving her? There sat, as if lost in\npainful memories, a tall, manly form in gleaming armour, with a\nwell-remembered sash of silver and blue across his breast.\n\nMaude uttered a cry. The knight raised his head, and she looked into a\nfamiliar, but now pale and grief-marked face.\n\n\"Gero, Gero!\" she cried, forgetting every other feeling in her wild\ndelight, and rushing with outstretched arms to where he stood.\n\nThe young knight's brain swam. At first he thought the sweet\napparition must be his dear one's spirit; but no, he clasped in his\narms the trembling form of the lost maiden.\n\nFor one moment she lay sobbing on his breast; then, recollecting\nherself, she tore herself blushing from his arms.\n\n\"Forgive me, Gero, my surprise overcame me. So you are alive, and I\nhad mourned for you as dead.\"\n\n\"Did you mourn for me, lady?\" asked the young knight. \"Thanks for the\nsweet assurance. I too sorrowed--oh! how deeply--for your loss; and\nto-day I rose from what I thought would be my death-bed, and came to\nvisit the spot where we had spent so many happy hours together, here\nto indulge my grief undisturbed. The wicked Earl who caused our\ntrouble fell to-day in the storming of his own castle, but great was\nour disappointment not to find you anywhere within its walls. And now\nyou are here, and I am not deceived by a blessed dream!\"\n\n\"No, it is no dream,\" said Maude joyfully; \"but now let us hasten to\nrelieve my father's grief.\"\n\nAs they went together through the wood, Maude told the knight how Puck\nhad saved her, and how he had cared for her in the lonely valley.\n\n\"The brave little goblin!\" cried Gero, as she finished. \"Let bygones\nbe bygones; we will be friends henceforth.\"\n\nThey had now reached the blackened ruins of Maude's former home, but,\nin the joy of dispelling the grief from the dear face of her father,\nwho stood gazing, in deep sadness, on the scene of desolation, the\nmaiden forgot to mourn at the wreck before her.\n\nEre the sun set, Gero and Maude were formally betrothed, and the work\nwas at once begun of repairing the ruined castle. Meantime, Maude\nfound a home with her future father-in-law, who was delighted to\nwelcome as a daughter the child of his trusted friend; and Puck found\nno lack of employment among the busy builders, who wondered sometimes\nwhat made the work progress so quickly.\n\nBefore another spring the castle stood in more than its old strength\nand greatness, and no part had received such careful attention as the\nturret where Puck had made the lonely child his friend.\n\nNo guest at Gero's wedding received such marked deference and\nattention from the bridegroom as his former enemy, and the servants\nof the new household, catching their tone from their master, treated\nlittle Puck with kindness such as he had experienced at the hands of\nformer generations.\n\nThe turret chamber was his home henceforth, and all through the long\nwinter Maude's children loved to gather there at twilight, and coax\nthe merry goblin to join them in their games, or tell them tales of\nthe old days of the castle. But perhaps their mother's story was the\none that they loved best--the story about the old enmity that changed\nto such firm friendship between the Lady Maude's page and her faithful\ngoblin.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALLEN BELL.\n\n[Illustration: THE STORM HURLS THE BELL INTO THE STREAM.]\n\n\nEre the light of the Gospel had shone on the benighted land of Saxony,\nthere stood on the green banks of the Saale a stately temple, within\nwhose walls a throng of ignorant worshippers presented the offering of\npraise and of sacrifice to the gods who had been honoured, as they\nbelieved, by their remotest ancestors. Then came Charlemagne, who cast\nout the heathen gods of Saxony, threw down their altars, and\nintroduced Christianity. Among the rest fell the temple on the banks\nof the Saale. The Christian priest with pious zeal seized the idol\nwhich had there been worshipped, and hurled it into the river. From\nthat time on, the rejected god lived as a water-sprite down in the\nwaters of the Saale, cherishing a deadly hatred against the new\nreligion, which had robbed him of his old-established rights. On the\nsite of his former shrine rose now a cloister, and the bell, whose\ndeep rich voice reached even the dwelling of the water-elf, stirring\nup afresh his bitter wrath and jealousy, called the inhabitants of the\nsurrounding district to the new God and His sanctuary.\n\nBut the old honoured faith did not so easily die out from the hearts\nof the Saxons, and though they were obliged to join in the\nnewly-enforced worship, they clung long to their ancient divinities,\nand secretly brought them the usual sacrifices.\n\nAt last the power of the Gospel triumphed, and the innocent child who\nhad yearly been offered to the water-spirit on St. John's day was now\nwithheld.\n\nWild was the rage of the mortified elf. All day long he watched among\nthe willows on the bank, whence he could look unseen far over the\nfields, to see if they had really forgotten him. No sacrifice was\nbrought. He felt that the last vestige of his power was gone. In\ngloomy anger against the thankless race, he resolved to take by force\nthe victim of which he had been cheated.\n\nA lovely child approached the bank, heedless of danger, holding in its\ntiny hand a bunch of forget-me-nots. Close by the water's edge were\nmore of the blue flowers, and he ran forward to pluck the tempting\nblossoms. Then the waters of the Saale suddenly rose, swept over the\nplace where the child was standing, and carried him down in their cold\nembrace. From that time people were careful to avoid the river on St.\nJohn's day, fearing a similar fate.\n\nAs Christianity became more powerful, the cloister, formerly a centre\nof holy influence, became the seat of arrogance and idle luxury, and\nthe water-elf, who knew that the God whom he hated was a righteous\njudge, who would punish evil, often sat on moonlight nights among the\nwillows gazing at the cloister, from whose lighted windows came the\nnoise of clinking glasses and wild revelry. Then he murmured between\nhis teeth--\n\n\"I shall live to see you brought to shame! Your God cannot suffer such\ndoings, and I shall have my revenge.\"\n\nAnd he did live to see it.\n\nOne night, when, instead of pious hymns, drinking-songs were ascending\nfrom the cloister cells, a dark storm-cloud spread across the sky.\nThunder growled and lightning flashed, making all nature tremble. Men\nfell on their knees; the monks alone heeded not the voice of the\nAlmighty. At every peal of thunder they raised their voices in the\nvain attempt to drown with their wild chorus the tumult without.\n\nThen came an awful flash, which gleamed like a coronet of fire on the\nsummit of the tower, and darted through the roof to the refectory,\nwhere in one moment its deadly shaft sent all the profane and godless\nscoffers before the throne of the eternal. The flame next seized the\nfurniture of the hall, and it was not long till the fire burst from\nthe shattered windows, for every hand was still that might have been\nraised to check its progress.\n\nThe water-sprite sat on a stone at the river's edge, contentedly\nwatching the awful spectacle.\n\nEvery moment the flames gained greater force. Their fiery tooth gnawed\nbeam and pillar till they burst asunder with a crash, and at last the\ndevouring element rose from the ruined pile below to the belfry tower.\nThen the bell, swayed by the heat, began to stir. Faster and faster\ncame the strokes, like a cry of anguish or a mournful knell sounding\nin wild and awful tones through the uproar of the storm. The beams\nfrom which it hung gave way, and with a great swing it fell into the\nSaale, making the water foam and hiss as it felt the glowing metal.\nThe tower fell in, and the stately building was changed into a mass of\nsmoking ruins.\n\nGradually the rage of the elements was stilled, and nature sank again\nto peaceful repose. The clouds were parted, and from the once more\nazure sky the moon looked down on the heaps of rubbish with the same\nmild and gentle glance as it used formerly to cast on the proud\ncloister.\n\nAnd what of the water-fairy. The downfall of his foes almost\nreconciled him with his lot. The hated chimes no longer reached his\near, reminding him of what he so wished to forget, his lost dominion.\nThe bell had found a resting-place on a beautiful green meadow which\nlay at the bottom of the Saale. The sprite planted water-lilies all\nround it, just as human beings adorn graves with the fairest of\nflowers. Then he built a crystal castle right in front of it, and\nbrought home as his bride a beautiful water-fairy from the\nneighbouring river, Elbe.\n\nAfter a time children played in the shell-adorned halls of the crystal\ncastle, two beautiful boys with bright eyes and little red caps, and\ntheir sister, a gentle little water-elf, as sweet and beautiful as her\nrelations of the land, the fairies of mountains and trees.\n\nThe sons were like their father; they hated the human race, of whom\nthe old fairy had told them nothing but evil, and they helped him\nevery St. John's day to entice some heedless mortal down into the\nstream.\n\nTheir lovely little sister was of a very different stamp. A secret\nlonging drew her heart towards the land and its inhabitants, and it\nwas only by the sternest prohibition that her father could induce her\nto remain at home. But at night, when sleep reigned in the crystal\ncastle, she would rise to the surface of the water, take her stand on\nthe great white water-lilies, which willingly joined to do her\nservice, and thus on this slender raft she would float up and down the\nstream. Her long fair hair flowed down till it touched the water; in\nher white arms she held a golden harp; and when she touched the\nstrings and sang her sweet songs that told of her longing after the\nbeautiful sunlight, after the blue sky and the unknown human race, the\ntrees bowed their tall heads to the water's edge, the birds hushed\ntheir song, and even the night-wind held his breath while he listened\nto the music of the little water-sprite.\n\nIt was once more St. John's day, and the old water-elf was in one of\nhis tempers.\n\nThe sun was shining on the river, and its rays flashed back in rainbow\nhues from the crystal pillars of the water-castle. The meadows in the\ncool bed of the Saale showed their freshest green, and the long grass\nwaved to and fro among the water, while fishes and water-beetles\ndarted between its stalks like golden stars.\n\nThe two boys sharpened their scythes and began to mow the grass, for\nit was haymaking time. Their sister stood among the lilies beside the\ngreat bell, holding one of the white flowers in her hand, and striking\nthe metal with its slender stem, so that it answered her in strange\nand mellow tones. But she did it softly, very softly, for she knew how\nhateful the sound of the old bell was to her father, especially on\nthis day. The sound was deep and musical, reminding the little fairy\nof the chimes which she sometimes heard on quiet nights, as she\nfloated up and down the river on her raft of water-lilies.\n\nPleased with the dear, familiar tones, she forgot that her father was\nnear, and she struck the bell so loudly that the sound, borne on the\nwaves, thrilled through the castle, where the old fairy was leaning,\nlost in thought, against a pillar, passing his fingers through his\ngrey-green beard, and dreamily watching his sons at their work.\n\nWhen the hated sound struck on his ear, he started up with a cry of\nanger, and looked fiercely at his trembling daughter. But before he\nhad time to give vent to his wrath a shadow fell over the palace and\nmeadow, followed by a crash, as if something had been broken in the\ncastle.\n\nAnd such was indeed the case.\n\nA boat was passing slowly through the waves above; the steersman had\nhappened to let the rudder fall, and its iron point struck with such\nforce against one of the crystal panes of the water-sprite's palace\nthat it fell, shattered into a thousand pieces.\n\nThis was too much for the enraged fairy. He rose foaming through the\nwater, and stood with flaming eyes before the boatman. \"Insolent man,\"\nhe growled, \"what hast thou done? Repair the injury at once. If the\npane is not replaced within half-an-hour, thou shalt pay for it with\nthy life.\"\n\nThe boatman laughed. \"I don't understand glazier's work,\" said he,\n\"and I shall hardly be able to find any one who could work down there\nin the water; so I cannot satisfy your demand. But as for your\nthreats, my good fellow, the time of your authority is long gone by.\nThere is not even a child now who fears you; and, besides, I have a\ncargo of steel bars, and you know, my dear waterman, that they would\nprevent you from coming into my boat to do me any harm.\"\n\nAt the mention of steel, a metal very hurtful to water-elves, the\nfairy unwillingly retired. He cast one more look of anger on the bold\nboatman, and on the little girl, who, on seeing the wrathful\napparition, had clung terrified to her father's arm; then he slowly\nsank into the water. He sat down in his crystal hall, leaned his head\non his hand, and tried to devise some plan by which he could entice\nthe little girl from the boat into his kingdom, and, by choosing her\nas the victim of the day, avenge himself on the boatman.\n\n\"I have it!\" he cried at length; \"the trick with the green ribbon that\nI learned the other day from my cousin the water-prince in Bohemia\nwill be of use to me now. To-day there is some great ceremony in the\nnext village, and I am sure the father will send his child there to\nhave her out of my way, and then I may find an opportunity of trying\nmy skill.\"\n\nSo saying, he put on his hat of plaited rushes, drew on his green\ncoat, and rose to the surface to place himself not far from the boat\namong the willows by the river's brink.\n\nHe had guessed rightly. Though the boatman had seemed courageous when\nspeaking to the water-sprite, a secret uneasiness rankled in his\nheart. It was not for himself he feared, but for his only child; for\nhe had seen the wicked glance that the waterman had cast on the girl\nas he disappeared beneath the stream. He consulted his wife about what\nthey ought to do for their child's safety; for they knew well the\ndangers of St. John's day, which the mischance with the rudder had\nunhappily doubled.\n\nIn the next village lived a distant relation, and the fair gave an\nexcellent excuse for paying her a visit. The little girl dressed\nherself in her best, said good-bye to her parents, and received\ninjunctions to stay all night with her friends, and not return to the\nboat before morning. Joyfully she hastened along the high-road, which\nlay for some distance by the river-side, till she came to the place\nwhere the water-sprite sat so quietly in his summer clothes, that no\none would have recognised in him the angry and revengeful spirit of\nthe morning.\n\n\"Where are you going so briskly, fair maiden?\" he asked pleasantly.\n\n\"To the village, to the dance!\" answered the little one merrily;\n\"don't you hear the music?\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" said the water-sprite artfully, \"the girls there are\nall so finely dressed that you in your plain clothes will look very\nshabby among them, and perhaps you will not even be able to get a\npartner. But look at this lovely ribbon, of which I have such a\nquantity. If you had that twined in among your golden hair, or wound\nas a sash round your slender waist, you would outshine all the girls\nat the fair.\"\n\nThe little one, who had thought until the old man spoke to her that\nshe would never get soon enough to the dance, now stopped, and looked\nwith a critical eye, first on herself, and then on the bright green\nribbon, which the water-sprite was pulling in endless lengths from the\nriver which flowed on the other side of the willows.\n\n\"Look how pretty it is!\" said he, and she let him wind it, as if to\ntry the effect, around her slender form.\n\nBut immediately she was in the old fairy's power. With a mocking\nlaugh, he said--\n\n\"Now, my little one, thou art mine! We shall see whether thy father\nwill say to-morrow that my authority is overthrown, and that I have no\nlonger power to frighten a child. Come!\"\n\nAs he spoke he seized the ribbon, and walked towards the river.\n\nThe terrified child began to scream, but father and mother were far\naway. She tried to escape, but the ribbon forced her to follow the\nwater-sprite. Her feet would bear her in no other direction, no matter\nhow she tried. Nearer and nearer to the rushing stream was she drawn\nby the dreadful ribbon. Soon the water touched her feet.\n\n\"Father, mother, farewell!\" she cried in a voice of anguish. Then the\nold water-elf caught her in his arms, and, with a horrid laugh,\nplunged with her into the stream. The waters did their deadly work on\nthe poor child's body, but the water-sprite kept the soul of the\ndrowned girl prisoner at the bottom of the Saale. She could not mount\nto heaven; she could not even rejoice in the sunlight which pressed in\nsoftened radiance through the water to the meadow on the river's bed,\nnor might she play like the little water-elf with the silvery fishes.\nHeedless of her entreaties, the water-man put her under the heavy bell\namong the lilies, and said, as he went back to his castle, \"Here thou\nshalt stay in punishment for thy father's insolence; and my watchful\neye and the weight of the bell will prevent any one from setting thee\nfree.\"\n\nHe went away, and left the soul of the poor little girl alone in her\nprison. Her sighs and lamentations could not pierce through the thick\nmetal walls, but they were only sent back to her in dismal echo.\n\nMeantime the little water-elf stood outside the bell in sympathetic\ngrief. She wound a garland of the fairest lilies round the little\ngirl's corpse, carried it gently up through the water, and left it\nnear the boat. The parents would never again see their dear child\nalive, but she had laid the little body in a soft bed of flowers, to\nmake the sad sight less startling to their loving hearts.\n\nNext morning, when the sun began to gild the waters of the Saale, the\nboatman left his cabin to make preparations for departure, while the\nmother, shading her eyes with her hand, stood looking along the\nhigh-road, where she expected every moment to see the child appear.\n\n\"Look there, wife!\" said the boatman, pointing to an object in the\nwater, which slowly approached the boat. \"Look there! What is that?\"\n\nThe woman turned to see. The waters of the Saale were gently bringing\na great garland of blooming lilies, and in their midst lay, with\nclosed eyes and folded hands, their loved and only child.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe little girl's soul sat beneath the bell. She could not leave her\nprison. Not a chink was visible, and the heavy bell would not move one\nhairsbreadth, notwithstanding all her efforts.\n\n\"What will my father and mother say if I do not come home?\" sighed the\nchild's soul. \"Oh, my poor dear parents! Never to see the pleasant\nsunlight or the blue sky! To stay down here for ever in this narrow,\ndark coffin--oh, how dreadful!\" And if a soul could have died with\nterror, grief, and longing, that would certainly have been the fate of\nthe little girl's spirit The hours passed silently over her and her\nprison. The hours became days. How many had gone by? The little soul\ndid not know. At last she sank into a kind of stupor, and almost\nceased to feel.\n\nBut one day something approached her prison, the edge of the bell was\nraised, and the water-sprite's rough voice said, \"Come out.\"\n\nThe opening through which the light was peeping was small, but souls,\nwith their light transparent forms, do not need much space, and in a\nmoment the little spirit slipped out, and now stood trembling before\nthe wicked water-man.\n\n\"Thou mayest play here for a little,\" he said; \"but in an hour thou\nmust return to the bell.\"\n\nThe soul looked up. She had been so long in that dismal tomb, and now\nshe found herself all at once in God's gloriously beautiful creation,\nthough only for a short time, and as a prisoner! She forgot her past\nsorrow, and thought not of the future; she rejoiced in the delightful\npresent, and looked up at the sun, which in noontide splendour stood\nin the blue canopy of heaven, sending its rays down on the green\nmeadow, their brilliance softened by the crystal flood.\n\nThen she looked around. Before her stood the splendid palace, with its\nglittering walls and transparent pillars, and round her swam the\nprettiest little fishes as fearlessly as if the little soul had been\nan acquaintance for years.\n\nA lovely young girl came out of the shining building, and asked her to\nplay with her.\n\nThe old water-sprite frowned in displeasure at his daughter's\nfriendliness, but the little elf did not look at him, and the child's\nsoul thought, \"I must go back to prison at any rate, and he cannot do\nanything worse to me!\" So she took the friendly fairy's hand, and rose\nwith her through the silvery flood, chasing the fishes and trying to\ngrasp the sunbeams with her little transparent hand. Then she wound\ngarlands of reeds, and let them rise to the top of the water, after\nshe had pressed sweet kisses on them, and laden them with loving\nmessages for her dear ones up above.\n\nAs she stood watching them with tearful longing as they rose nearer\nand nearer to her home, she heard herself called once more. The\nwater-sprite stood behind her, seized her hand, and led her back to\nthe bell. She turned for a last look at the clear blue sky; the next\nmoment she was back in her dark and narrow prison.\n\nHours and days passed slowly by. The time seemed endless to the poor\nlittle soul. Her only amusement and her only pleasure was to go over\nagain and again that one hour of freedom and happiness.\n\nOne day, just as she was doing this, there was a noise outside the\nbell; the ray of light pierced her prison again, and before the old\nwater-sprite had time to give her permission the little prisoner\nslipped through, spread out her delicate transparent arms towards the\nlight of heaven, and with a cry of joy greeted the fair, free world.\nHer playfellow was standing waiting for her, and together they left\nthe bell with joyous haste, slipped through the waving grass, and\ndanced on the sunbeams with the dragon-flies and fishes.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the little soul sadly, \"why does this delightful hour come\nso seldom. Why may I not get out every day?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" answered the water-fairy; \"but it is only on\nSaturday, between twelve and one o'clock, that the spirits are allowed\nto leave their prison down here and play in the sunlight.\"\n\n\"But it is so lonely and dark in the bell,\" said the child's soul\ndolefully.\n\nThe little nymph looked at her compassionately. Both had lost all\npleasure in their joyous play, and arm-in-arm they looked up through\nthe water at the clouds which were slowly sailing past.\n\n\"There comes your father to fetch me,\" said the little girl's soul,\nshuddering. \"Oh! do come once, just once, every day to my prison;\nknock against the bell, and when the sound pierces through my metal\nwalls I shall know that I am not quite alone in the world. Will you?\"\n\nA thought struck the young water-sprite; she opened her mouth to tell\nit to her playmate, but just then her father came up, and she had to\nbe silent. She could only nod kindly at the poor little prisoner, whom\nthe old water-sprite led roughly away to the dismal prison, whose\nnarrow walls soon shut her out from the cheerful daylight.\n\nIt was night. Souls cannot sleep, but they may have waking dreams.\n\nThus the child's spirit was led back in imagination to her home. She\nsaw herself once more in the ship on which she had been born, and\nfancied herself sitting beside her mother, listening to pleasant\nstories told by the dear gentle voice, and as she dreamed she forgot\nthe impassable gulf which separated her from the living ones above the\nstream.\n\nThen the sound of a bell fell gently on her ear. She had been so\nabsorbed in her dreams that she started in alarm at the unexpected\nsound, and it was a moment or two before she could collect her\nthoughts to think. Then she remembered her request, of which this was\nevidently the fulfilment, so she struck softly against the inside of\nthe bell as a sign that she had heard her friend's greeting.\n\nThen the edge of her prison was gently lifted, and with a cry of joy\nshe slipped out into the water. There stood the little water-sprite.\n\n\"Will you go up with me to the surface of the stream?\" asked she.\n\"Would you like to float up and down on my lily-raft?\"\n\n\"Indeed I should,\" answered the little soul. \"What do I want but\nfreedom, air, and light? Oh yes, take me with you!\"\n\nThe lovely nymph took the child's hand, and a little shining wave bore\nthem upwards as on the wings of a swan.\n\nNow they are standing on the surface of the water. The little\nwater-sprite beckoned, and from far and near swam the water-lilies and\nanemones to make a boat of flowers for their young mistress and her\ndear little pale companion.\n\nThey glided down the stream. Oh, how beautiful it was!\n\n[Illustration: THE WATER-ELF AND THE LITTLE SOUL ON THE RAFT OF\nWATER-LILIES.]\n\nOn they moved past lofty mountains crowned by stately castles--past\nvillages lying in peaceful slumber, whose churches mirrored their\ngraceful spires in the clear flood below--past the willows on the\nbanks, that nodded their drowsy heads as the night-wind played\nthrough their branches. And over all these lovely scenes the moon\nshed her magic light, and the waves sang softly their everlasting\nsong.\n\nThen the little water-elf took her golden harp, and sent her clear\nvoice floating through the stillness of the night. She sang of what\nwas stirring her own heart and filling the child's soul with\nsorrow--of their longing for happiness on earth or in heaven, which\nwas so far, so far from them both. The sweet sounds floated through\nthe silent night, till the waves checked their song, and the\nslumbering trees awoke to listen to the enthralling strains.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the child's soul at length, \"why cannot I rise into the\nkingdom of light? why must I linger far away from my heavenly home,\nand pine down below in that dark dungeon?\"\n\n\"Because,\" answered the lovely water-elf kindly, \"my father has\nsentenced you to the bell, and this spell holds you bound, and always\nforces you to return to darkness and captivity.\"\n\n\"Can this sentence, this spell never be broken?\" asked the little\nsoul.\n\n\"Yes, if a human being descends and overthrows the bell the charm will\nbe broken, and you may rise to heaven.\"\n\n\"Ah! would that that time would come!\" said the little one\nsorrowfully. \"The only ones whose love would be strong enough to make\nthem take the risk are far away.\" And she looked sadly into the\ndistance.\n\nWhen the moonlight began to pale, and the stars were dying out one by\none, the friends left their lily-raft, plunged into the flood, and the\nlittle soul went back reluctantly to her dark prison.\n\nSo the days went by. Alone, alone in the dark bell, and once a-week\none short hour of freedom and sunlight--that was the lot of the little\nsoul, with now and then a sail on the lily-raft by the side of the\nwater-elf. Unspeakably delightful were these hours, but the longing\nfor their return made the dark days seem all the longer to the poor\nlittle prisoner.\n\nAnd this pleasure was but rare. The little water-sprite had to be very\nprudent, for her cruel father might have made her pay for her nightly\njourneys with her life, so displeasing to him was her hankering after\nthe human world, and her mild and friendly disposition.\n\nMany a night the old water-fairy rose himself to the surface, many a\ntime did his sons sit among the willows; and often the water-man could\nnot sleep, and went restlessly through the rooms of his palace to see\nthat everything was right.\n\nIt was only on nights when all in the crystal castle were fast asleep,\nand no discovery was to be feared, that the young nymph hastened to\nthe little soul, opened her prison, by raising the edge of the bell,\nand rose with her for a sail in the lily-boat.\n\nYears passed by, and with them hope died out from the little girl's\nsoul; nothing remained to her but memory and longing. In the world\nabove the water, what she had last seen young and fresh had grown\ngradually old. The playmates of her childhood had been married long\nago, and some of them had entered on their eternal rest. Her father\nhad never recovered the shock of that unhappy day, and the secret\nthought that he had excited the water-fairy's wrath by his defiant\nwords, and had thus caused his dear child's death, gnawed at his life,\nand brought him to an untimely grave. Her mother alone was left. Her\nhair had grown white, not so much through age as through sorrow. Once,\nwhen in her solitude a deep longing seized her to see once more the\nplace where her child had died, she entrusted the guidance of the boat\nto her brother's son, who was one day to fall heir to all her little\npossessions, and told him to take her to her darling's grave.\n\nThe boat reached its destination the night before Easter. Here,\nopposite the clump of willows, which had grown even denser than when\nshe saw them last, and above which the spire of the village church\nraised its graceful form, the boat had stopped on that unhappy day so\nmany years ago. Here, therefore, was the anchor lowered, and the\nboatman went to rest. But the mother, when she found herself so near\nthe fatal spot, could not sleep. The most dreadful hour of her life,\nwhen she stood watching for the coming of her merry child, and saw\ninstead but her pale, cold corpse, came again before her soul, and she\npassed the night in bitter weeping.\n\nWhen the first gleam of daylight played on the stream, she rose and\nwent on deck. All the stars had gone to rest except the morning star,\nand even its radiance grew gradually fainter; for the young day began\nto don his golden festive robe. The poor mother leaned over the edge\nof the boat, and looked down into the water. The sky was one glow of\npurple, and on the stream lay the roses of the dawn. The Easter sun\nrose slowly above the horizon, and as its first beam struck the river\na sound of solemn melancholy came upwards from its depths.\n\n\"What was that?\" said the woman, leaning forward to listen.\n\nA second chime broke the stillness of the morning, and soon the bell\nbegan to ring in tones of wondrous richness from the bed of the river.\nWith the chimes, and borne on the sunbeams, which cheerfully plunged\ninto the stream, and rose again radiant from the crystal flood, came a\nsweet, familiar voice to thrill the heart of the listening mother.\n\n    \"Jesus lives, and I in Him:\n    Where is thy victory, O grave?\n    Jesus lives to set me free,\n    My captive soul His love will save;\n    Jesus will lead me to the light,\n    This the sure hope that cheers my night.\"\n\nSo sang her child's clear voice in the words of the hymn which she\nherself had once taught her, and which the little one used to sing on\nEaster morning. The child's soul was still imprisoned, but now, on the\nday of Christ's resurrection, when the bell began to ring as the first\nsunbeam touched it, she felt a strange, sweet joy, that made her feel\ninclined to join her voice with its mellow chimes.\n\nOn the great Christian festivals all bells that have sunk in rivers\nor lakes awake to join in the hymn of all creation, and when, among\nthe rest, the little girl's bell began to sound, her grief and longing\ngenerally awoke afresh. But to-day with the first note her sadness\nsuddenly vanished, and a strange joy sprang up in her heart. She\nfolded her delicate hands, and sang the verse of her childhood. But\nthe metal did not send the sound back to her as on other days; it\npierced through the walls, and floated through the waves up to the ear\nand heart of her sorrowing mother.\n\nYes, it was her child's voice; every drop of blood, every pulse-beat\nof her trembling body told her that. She had indeed found her little\ndaughter's corpse; but her soul must have remained in the power of the\ncruel water-sprite, and had been pining all these years down in the\nstream, shut out from light and liberty and love. All the stories that\nshe had heard of the imprisonment of souls, and which she had always\nlaughed at as childish tales, came into her mind, and filled her with\nunspeakable anguish. Her captivity must be somehow connected with the\nbells, or else the chimes would not have mingled as they did with the\nhymn. She leaned over the edge of the boat, and looked down into the\nwater.\n\nThere was a sudden splashing and foaming in the river, and the old\nwater-sprite slowly rose, parted the waves, and stood before the\nterrified woman. It was the same powerful form, the erect carriage,\nthe long grey-green beard, for the hand of time passes more gently\nover spirits than over men. The woman recognised him at the first\nglance, for she had seen him from her cabin window as he vented his\nwrath on her husband, though she herself was out of sight. She knew\nthat the murderer of her child stood before her, but the water-sprite\ndid not suspect that this was the mother of his little prisoner.\n\n\"My wife is ill,\" he said gloomily. \"The chimes in the water always\nmake her ill, but there must have been some special power in them\nto-day, for she is writhing in agony, and she begged me to bring her a\nwoman of the human race, to lay her warm hand on her aching head, and\nrestore her to health. Come with me,\" he concluded sullenly; \"it is\nnot for nothing that I ask this.\"\n\nThe woman could have shouted with joy. Her enemy himself was about to\nlead her to the place where all her affections were centered; it\nseemed to her a sign from heaven, and she went fearlessly to the edge\nof the boat, and prepared to plunge into the stream.\n\n\"Not so,\" growled the water-sprite: \"thou couldst not reach the bottom\nalive--a thing which would have pleased me well enough at any other\ntime, but to-day it would not suit my purpose. Take this ring!\"\n\nShe placed the glittering circle on her finger, and followed the\nwater-elf into the river. Thus protected, she could walk through the\nwater as on dry land, and breathe in the river as freely as in the\nair.\n\nThey came to the beautiful green meadow, passed the clump of\nwater-lilies, in the midst of which the woman's quick eye had already\nnoted the bell, and entered the crystal castle. There, in a spacious\nand glittering hall, lay, on a glass bed with shining pillows of\nfish-scales, the wife of the water-elf. She was tossing in restless\npain, and as the woman entered she stretched out her hands\nentreatingly. The little nymph knelt sobbing by her sick mother's\nside, and even the rough sons looked on with grave faces.\n\nThe boatman's widow went up to the bed, and laid her warm hand on the\nsick fairy's cold, white forehead. Almost instantaneously the pain\nvanished, and she fell into a gentle sleep.\n\nThe little nymph grasped the woman's hand, and said, while her eyes\nshone with grateful tears, \"Come, I will get you some of our beautiful\nlilies.\"\n\nThe old water-sprite, in his anxiety about his wife, had quite\nforgotten the little prisoner below the bell, and, besides, he had no\nreason to suspect that this strange woman knew anything about the\nlittle soul. So, though he did not like to see his daughter so\nfriendly with the human race, he did not try to hinder her from\ngetting the flowers, but sat down quietly to watch his sick wife's\nslumber.\n\nHow the mother's heart beat as she arrived at the lilies, pressed\nthrough their intertwining stems, and stood at last close to the bell.\nWith trembling hand she knocked, and the sound thrilled through the\nchild's spirit.\n\nThe little water-elf stood in amazement as she watched her visitor\nmaking her way so eagerly among the lilies, and great was her alarm\nwhen she heard the bell sound, for she thought of her sick mother and\nher father's wrath. But before she had time to remonstrate, the\nlittle soul said, \"Who knocks?\" She knew it could not be her friend\nthe young nymph, for she came only at night, and this was early in the\nmorning. \"Who knocks?\" she asked again with trembling voice.\n\nThe mother thought her heart would break with joy; her breath left\nher, and she could not answer just at once; yet the greatest haste was\nneedful, for the old water-sprite might be beside her every moment.\n\n\"It is your mother, my dear child,\" she said at last with trembling\nlips; \"tell me, oh! tell me quickly how I can set you free.\"\n\n\"Mother, mother!\" cried the little prisoner; \"mother, is it you?\"\n\n\"It is indeed, my darling,\" said the mother anxiously; \"but we must\nnot lose any time, for the water-sprite may come any moment, and then\nI shall not be able to help you.\"\n\nThe words brought the little soul back to reality.\n\n\"Mother, dear mother, throw the bell down, and your child's soul will\nthank you for ever in the heavenly world,\" begged the girlish voice.\n\nThe mother put forth all her strength, but the bell, which the spirits\nmoved so easily, would not yield an inch before the woman's efforts.\n\nWhen the old water-sprite heard it sound, he went to one of the\nhigh-arched windows, and saw the widow struggling to overturn her poor\nchild's prison. He beckoned to his sons, and quickly but noiselessly\nthe three left the palace. Once outside, they screamed with furious\nrage.\n\nThe little captive heard the wild cry, and trembled. The mother heard\nit, and the thought that on one moment hung her own life and her dear\nchild's future happiness gave her gigantic strength; one desperate\neffort, and the heavy bell gave way, and lay on its side.\n\nIt was almost too late; for the angry water-sprites had reached the\nspot, and stretched out their hands to seize the woman.\n\nBut the little soul had left her prison, snatched up her mother in her\narms, and darted quick as lightning up through the waves. When they\nreached the land the mother felt her child's arms taken from around\nher, while a light, cold kiss was pressed upon her cheek. Then the\nslight, transparent form of her loved one soared like a cloud towards\nheaven, till it was lost to her sight. With mingled joy and grief she\nwatched the vanishing soul.\n\n\"Oh! leave me not behind, my child; take me also up to heaven!\" she\ncried, amid streaming tears.\n\nNight came once more, and with his starry mantle covered joy and\nsorrow, life and death. The poor mother lay on a narrow couch in the\ncabin of her boat. She was wearied out with the day's lamentations,\nand a gentle sleep had kindly blotted from her mind her bitter sorrow.\nIt seemed to the sleeping one as if heavenly radiance filled the\nlittle room, and an angel with shining wings approached her bed. But\nwhen she looked on the face it was that of her dear child, whom she\nhad yesterday freed from the power of the water-sprite.\n\n\"Mother, dear mother, come!\" said the loved voice; \"I am sent to\nfetch thee, that thou mayest keep the Easter feast in heaven with\nfather and me.\"\n\nAnd she took her mother in her arms, soared out into the night, high\nabove land and sea, higher and higher, past the glittering stars, till\nthey arrived at last in the glorious heavenly temple, and met the\nloved father and the beautiful angels.\n\nNext morning, when the nephew found the woman was not rising, he went\ninto the cabin and stepped up to the bed. There she lay, cold and\ndead, but her hands were folded in prayer, and round her mouth and her\nclosed eyes was a smile of peace and happiness.\n\n\n\n\nThe Last Home of the Giants.\n\n[Illustration: ASLOG RETURNS TO HER FATHER.]\n\n\nVale and mountain alternated in beautiful succession beneath the blue\nsky of Norway thousands of years ago just as they do to-day, and the\nGulf Stream flowed then as now past its rugged coasts; yet it was a\nfar different land. In the thick forests no axe had yet been heard\nfelling the strong timbers that the Norwegian rivers would bear down\nto the sea, to float hereafter as noble ships upon the breast of the\nocean; in the sheltered bays no cosy houses nestled with their\nneatly-kept surroundings of garden and field; no boat yet flew over\nthe sea with nets and fishing tackle. Man had not yet sought out as a\nhome this beautiful northern land.\n\nA race of giants, of tall and powerful build, dwelt there. Their\nlifetime was measured by centuries as ours by years. They tore rocks\nasunder with their hands, and left the great streams a free channel.\nThey bore huge blocks on their shoulders to the shore, and built them\ninto castles whose turrets towered into the clouds. Their voice\ndrowned the roar of the ocean, and scared the eagle from its nest. But\nthis powerful race, beneath whose tread the ground trembled, were of\npeaceful, harmless disposition. No quarrel divided, nor envy\nembittered, their hearts. They lived together like the children of one\ngreat family.\n\nTheir chief was Hrungnir. His companions voluntarily submitted to his\ncontrol; for he excelled them all in years, wisdom, and strength, as a\nfather his children.\n\nHrungnir lived in a splendid castle by the sea. The mountains of\nNorway had had to yield their most precious metals to adorn the walls\nof his giant dwelling within and without. The chief's numerous flocks\nand herds roamed over miles of land, the bears of the thick forests\nwere slain in hundreds by his hands that their skins might cover\npillows for his guests, and the tables and drinking-horns gleamed with\nprecious stones. But Hrungnir's most cherished possession was Guru,\nhis only daughter. Her hair shone golden as the stars of the northern\nnight, her eyes were blue as the sky of her native land, and her skin\nwas of dazzling whiteness.\n\nThe most powerful giants of the whole country were suitors for Guru's\nhand, and Hrungnir promised his daughter to him who should excel in\nswiftness in the race, or whose arm should be strongest to hurl huge\nboulders. Then the mighty men came down from their castles in the\nmountains, where the snowstorm sweeps round the hoary peaks, and from\nsea-side fortresses, till Hrungnir's roof could scarcely give shelter\nto the host of powerful suitors. The tables smoked with countless\ndishes, the horns of mead were filled and filled again, and from the\nwindows the songs of the giants sounded forth so loudly that the waves\nfled back in terror towards the sea.\n\nAfter the feast, the giants went out to the strand, broke huge masses\nfrom the rocks, and hurled them out in the sea as children would throw\npebbles. Far out into the ocean flew the masses of stones, but none so\nfar as those thrown by the hand of Andfind, the valiant youth whose\ncastle stood amid the rocks of the storm-swept Doverfjeld, whose\nwealth almost equalled Hrungnir's, whose beauty bore comparison with\nthat of Guru herself. Then when the suitors arranged themselves on the\nstrand for the race, and the shingle resounded with their golden\nsandals, Andfind left all his rivals far behind, and his long fair\nlocks floated like golden pennons on the rock that was the goal of the\nrace, while his fellow-suitors were still toiling along the course.\n\nAndfind was victor, and Guru's heart sang for joy, for she had long\nloved him in secret, though she was prepared to submit to her father's\nwish, even if he had chosen some other for his son-in-law.\n\nFar from grudging envy, the giants loudly applauded the conqueror,\nbore him on their shoulders to Hrungnir's castle, where the chief bade\nhim welcome, and called his daughter to meet her chosen bridegroom.\n\nThe lovely Guru came dressed in a sky-blue robe with a\nsilver-embroidered hem, which she and her maids had woven and wrought\nin the retirement of the women's room. Round her white neck and\nrounded arms lay gleaming jewels, and her locks were bound with a\ngolden fillet. Thus she came to meet the guests. Hrungnir took his\ndaughter's hand, laid it in Andfind's right, and then, as priest of\nthe household, the chief united them in the indissoluble ties of\nmarriage.\n\nNight fell round the Castle of Hrungnir. The chief and his guests lay\nwrapped in deep slumbers, preparing for the enjoyment of a new day.\nBut destruction approached them, as they slept, with stealthy steps;\nfor Odin, that crafty king, of whose origin no man could tell, came\nwith his trusty warriors down from the mountains. They had heard of\nthe beauty of Norway, and wished to win it for their home. They had\nheard that the bravest in the land were feasting in Hrungnir's castle,\nand they had waited till the hours of slumber that they might strike\nunawares the foes with whom they could not have dared to cope on equal\nterms.\n\nThe moonlight glided through the open windows and fell on the forms of\nthe defenceless sleepers: the deep breathing of the warriors and the\nmurmur of the waves were the only sounds that the ear could\ndistinguish. But dark shadows fell in the moonlit hall, tall forms\nclimbed in at the windows, and noiselessly, holding their weapons\ncarefully to prevent them from clashing, they stole into the rooms.\nWith sure aim they bathed their swords in the heart's blood of the\nsleepers, so that, with one last groan, each warrior yielded up his\nbrave spirit. The pavement swam in blood, but Odin's band passed from\nhall to hall and never slipped on their gory path.\n\nThe death-groan, though short, reached Guru's ear. She rose and\nlistened. No, it was no dream; there came that sound again with\ndreadful distinctness. She threw on her garments and sprang to the\nwindow, and when she drew aside the curtain she saw strange forms in\nthe courtyard, bearing with difficulty a heavy burden. She looked more\nclosely, and recognised in the clear moonlight the bloody corpse of\nher noble father. She stole up to Andfind's couch, and whispered,\n\"Awake, awake, my husband, and let us fly, for treachery and death\nhave entered our house!\"\n\nThe bloody work seemed finished in the other rooms, and now the\ndreaded footsteps were drawing near.\n\nGuru raised a stone from the pavement and disclosed a secret stair.\nShe bade Andfind descend, and then quickly following him, she\ncarefully closed the opening behind her.\n\nBy a narrow passage which led beneath the castle and the rocks to the\nstrand they reached the sea unseen. There a boat lay rocking, which\nGuru and her maids had often used for pleasant sails. They stepped\nin. Andfind spread the sail and seized the helm, and the boat flew out\ninto the open sea.\n\nOdin had conquered. The noblest of the land were killed in the\ninglorious victory of that night, and the weak remnant of the giant\nrace were obliged to leave their old home and seek a refuge in unknown\nlands. Notwithstanding this ignoble beginning, Odin's reign was one of\nwisdom, power, and beneficence.\n\nOf Guru and her husband nothing more was ever heard. Whether the sea\nhad swallowed the boat in its hungry depths, or whether the waves had\nborne them to happier coasts, none had ever brought back the tidings\nto their old home. But in the winter evenings, when the maidens sat\naround the blazing pine-log, and talked at their spinning about the\ndays of the Norwegian giants, some aged dame would tell her shuddering\nlisteners of that night of death, and of the mysterious fate of Guru\nand her noble bridegroom.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOdin's reign was long since ended. His wisdom and his crimes were both\nalike well-nigh forgotten. Olaf had many years ago brought in the\nknowledge of the Christian religion, and reared churches on the sites\nof the old altars; and to the ancient honesty and strength of the\nnation was added the mild spirit of the religion of the cross.\n\nOn the spot where Hrungnir's castle once stood rose now a fortress as\nproud, and well-nigh as strong, as that of the giant chief; the flocks\nthat grazed around it were as great as his; and the present\npossessor, Saemund, like him, counted as his dearest treasure an only\ndaughter.\n\nIt seemed almost as if the days of Guru were come back again, for\nAslog's golden hair and snowy skin, Aslog's blue eyes and graceful\nform, attracted the wealthiest and most powerful nobles of the land to\nwoo her.\n\nAs each noble suitor was rejected, the father's heart swelled high\nwith pride and hope. \"She will only take the best and greatest,\" he\nthought. But when the most powerful prince in the land came, and the\nfair one's lips said \"No\" to him also, Saemund no longer praised his\ndaughter's prudence. With bitter words he reproached her for her\nfolly, and commanded her to choose before Christmas Eve some one on\nwhom he might bestow her hand.\n\nDays came and went, and Aslog's cheek grew paler and her father's eye\nmore gloomy, for her heart was given to Orm, the poor but beautiful\nyouth whom her father had given her as page. Orm's strong arm had on\nlovely summer evenings rowed the boat out into the gold-flooded sea;\nOrm's hand had guided her over the vast snow-fields, as in snow-shoes,\nwith points thin and supple as a beech-leaf, they glided swiftly\nthrough the bracing air; and in long winter evenings, while the guests\nwere drinking and singing in her father's halls, Orm used to sit and\ntell her beautiful stories as she sat by the cheerful fire.\n\nSaemund loved the brave youth, but had any one spoken of him as his\ndaughter's choice he would have challenged the informant to single\ncombat.\n\nThe lovers knew this, and it was with trembling that they awaited the\ndecisive day.\n\n\"If she has not chosen before the time I have named,\" said Saemund to\nOrm, \"I will choose her a bridegroom myself, and you shall have the\nhonour of bearing her bridal train.\"\n\nOrm gave no answer, but with trembling hand he arranged the table for\nthe guests, and pressed his lips close together to restrain the eager\nwords that his love prompted.\n\nIt was the night before Christmas Eve--starry and cold. A secret door\nopened in the side of the mountain, and two muffled figures slipped\nout. They were Orm and Aslog. They had brought nothing with them but a\nlittle bundle of necessary clothing, a warm skin rug, and a bow and\narrows which Orm had slung across his shoulder.\n\nOn they hurried over the icy plain, swiftly and terror-stricken, like\na pair of hunted doves. They reached the edge of the wide plain. Their\nsnow-shoes were no longer of use, for their road led now towards the\ndefiles and rocky heights of the highlands. It was bitterly cold, the\nwind whistled through the clefts of the mountain, and its icy breath\nmade Aslog's frail form tremble. Long their path wound among the\nsnow-clad mountains; then they reached a thick fir wood, in the midst\nof which stood a little hermit's cottage.\n\n\"It is I, Father Jerome,\" said Orm to the old man who came to greet\nthem at the door.\n\n\"Welcome, my son!\" said the old man, as the youth stooped to press a\nreverent kiss on his withered hand; \"and the maiden at thy side is\nwelcome too to the poor hospitality of the hermit's cell.\"\n\nThe offered rest and refreshment were eagerly accepted by the weary\nmaiden. With pitying eyes the hermit gazed on her grief-marked\nfeatures, and when Orm begged him to unite them in marriage, the old\nman, after short consideration, granted their request.\n\nHow different was this hour from Aslog's dreams! Not that she gave\nmany thoughts to the splendour and festivity that should have done\nhonour to her bridal, but she felt bitterly the want of her father's\nblessing.\n\nThe ceremony over, there could be no further delay. On the wanderers\npressed on their weary way, till Aslog would have sunk exhausted but\nfor Orm's supporting arm. Through the thick fir woods, over rough\nmountain paths, they hastened on till the first streak of dawn gleamed\nin the eastern sky. Then Orm pointed to a cluster of dark rocks that\nlay before them.\n\n\"There,\" said he cheerfully--\"there, my Aslog, is rest and safety.\"\n\nAslog's courage rose; with renewed energy she pressed over the\nintervening ground, till they reached a tall jagged rock and entered a\ncleft in its side. They now found themselves in a cave, which, though\nnarrow at the entrance, became higher and wider as they went on, till\nit formed a spacious chamber. Out of this gloomy abode Orm's care and\nthoughtfulness made a home for his loved one that was not wholly\nlacking in comfort or happiness, and here they lived in secure\nretirement as long as the winter blocked the mountain roads. But when\nspring came, and the ways became accessible, Saemund's spies were able\nto explore more thoroughly, and Orm could no longer go out and in\nfreely among the mountains. But when provisions ran short, he was\nobliged to tear himself from Aslog's weeping embrace, and sally forth\nwith his bow and arrows. At last, when, after weeks of mild weather,\nno living soul had been seen near their retreat, their fears subsided,\nand Orm began to lay aside caution and to venture further from the\ncave. Perhaps Aslog's father had grown tired of the fruitless search,\nor perhaps he was even cherishing thoughts of forgiveness. Aslog's\nheart was quick to believe what she so ardently wished, and Orm began\nto believe it too. One night, while his wife was sleeping, he took the\npath towards the valley where the hermit's cell nestled amid the\nwoods. His breast beat high with hope that the old man might be able\nto give him some good tidings to take back to his loved Aslog, who,\nalthough she bore her privations even cheerfully, was yet paler and\nfeebler every day. He drew near a jutting rock, behind which lay the\npath to the hermit's cottage. In his glad excitement he had forgotten\nall fear. His bow hung with loose string behind him, and his hand\ngrasped his staff but carelessly. Suddenly he heard a rustling in the\nthick bushes beside him, and two heavy hands were laid on his\nshoulder. With a strong effort he shook himself free, stepped back a\nfew paces, and swung his stick menacingly.\n\n\"It is he whom we seek,\" cried his assailants; \"remember the reward.\"\n\nThen it seemed to Orm as if all the bushes and even the brown rock\nbehind him became alive, so great a rustling was heard on every side.\nQuick as thought he brought his stick down on the heads of the two who\nhad first attacked him, and before the others could leave their\nhiding-places he had turned and fled.\n\nAt first there was wild shouting and a sound of eager feet behind, but\nhe never stopped to look back, and he soon passed out of sight of his\npursuers. The way was long and rough, but Orm was strong and fleet of\nfoot, and before him lay his home and Aslog. At last he was at the\ncave.\n\nHow different was this home-coming from his former hopes! Aslog lay in\nsweet sleep, with a happy smile on her lips, as if she dreamt of love\nand forgiveness; and Orm must soon waken her, and tell her that she\nmust go forth once more a homeless wanderer.\n\n\"Awake, awake, beloved one,\" he whispered, seizing her hand, \"and let\nus flee, for your father's men are on our track, and we must be far\nfrom this before to-morrow dawns.\"\n\nAslog opened her eyes, and gazed in speechless astonishment at her\nhusband's lips, but when she could no longer doubt, she sprang quickly\nup and arranged her clothing and the soft skins which had formed her\ncovering in a neat bundle. Without delay they crept out of the cave by\nits narrow entrance, and went forth, not, as they had hoped, to\nSaemund's castle, but to a dark and unknown future. Westward, where\nAslog's home lay, danger and treachery threatened them, so they turned\ntheir steps northwards, on untried mountain paths. The air was mild,\nthe moon shone brightly on their way, and the soft moss kept no trace\nof their footsteps that might betray them to their watchful enemies.\nThus they wandered northwards for hours. The cave in the rock lay\nmiles behind them, and they were far from the place where Orm had been\nseen by his father-in-law's men. Then at last he ventured to turn\nwestwards, towards the sea. Their way led down towards the lowlands.\nThe wintry mists were still hanging over the plain. Orm's keen eye\ncould scarcely pierce their grey veil, and Aslog shuddered as she felt\ntheir cold embrace. They could no longer tell in what direction they\nwere going, but they went on and on, hoping to come ere long to the\nfriendly ocean. At last Aslog's pale face caught a flush of joy as she\nheard its distant murmur. Nearer and nearer sounded the familiar\nmusic, and soon the wanderers came to a narrow valley, at the further\nedge of which rose a cluster of dark rocks.\n\n\"It is the coast!\" said Aslog joyously, as she almost flew along the\nground.\n\nIn a little bay at the foot of the rocks lay a fishing-boat. Orm bore\nhis wife in his arms along the sand, for on this open strand the\ngreatest haste was necessary, lest some hostile eye might see them. He\nplaced Aslog gently in the boat, sprang in after her, and with\ntrembling hands spread the sail.\n\nThe wind seemed to wish the fugitives well. It swept down from the\nmountains and filled the white sail, so that the little boat shot out\ninto the sea like a swan with spreading wings. The sun rose higher and\nhigher, the cliffs of their native coast seemed now but a line of low\nhills; proud ships glided not far from them, and on the farthest\nhorizon appeared a group of islands gleaming in the golden mist. As\nthe sun sank slowly to the horizon, the great ships passed by without\nnoticing the wanderers, and the little islands were still in the far\ndistance. Aslog's face, that had before glowed with hope, grew pale\nand wan.\n\n\"What is wrong, my darling?\" asked Orm anxiously.\n\n\"I am hungry,\" answered Aslog faintly.\n\nOrm sighed deeply. They had had to flee without waiting to get\nprovisions, and now they had been twenty-four hours without food, and\nthe islands lay far, far away. The sun sank into the sea.\n\n\"Sleep, my Aslog, sleep!\" begged Orm at length; \"you will not feel\nyour hunger while you are asleep, and by the time you awake, perhaps\nwe shall have reached one of the little islands before us.\"\n\nAnd Aslog smiled submissively, and loosing the skins from the bundle,\nlay down beneath their protecting warmth at the bottom of the boat.\nThe waves rocked the little vessel gently, the oar splashed in\nmeasured monotony, and at last Aslog's eyes closed, and she fell\nasleep.\n\nOrm now kept watch alone on the wide ocean. Night had come, but a warm\nbreath of spring was still hovering over the sea. The moon rose slowly\nabove the distant mountains of Norway, and flooded the ocean with its\nsilvery light. The waves danced sparkling round the boat, sails and\nmasts shone brightly, and the hair of the slumbering fair one gleamed\nlike waves of gold.\n\nFull of love and grief, Orm's eyes rested on Aslog's pale face.\nAllowing himself but short rest, and that at long intervals, he rowed\non all night, and when morning dawned, a large island with blossoming\ntrees lay before his eyes bathed in the purple light. His cry of joy\nwoke Aslog, who rose and looked at this lovely haven of refuge, which\nseemed offered to the homeless wanderers. Like a guardian of their\nfuture safety a tall grey rock stood upon the shore, in form not\nunlike a gigantic human figure.\n\nOrm tried to steer between the small islands that lay round this\ntempting spot; but the waves, which had heretofore played so gently\nround the shores, now foamed and roared about the boat, and drove it\nback into the open sea. Nevertheless Orm undauntedly plied helm and\noar, only to be driven back irresistibly again and again.\n\nNoon came, and the fruitless struggle still continued; and now the sun\nwas inclining towards the west. Orm's strength and heroic perseverance\nbegan at length to fail. His hands bled, his arms trembled, hunger and\nexhaustion almost overpowered him; while Aslog, who had sunk from a\nstate of the most eager hope into the deepest despondency, clung,\nwell-nigh unconscious, to the mast. Orm thought her dying. Then\ndespair gave him fresh strength. \"Almighty God, pity us!\" he cried\naloud to heaven. Immediately the waves submitted to the holy name;\nthe foaming billows glided gently beneath the boat; the vessel shot\nlike an arrow through the midst of the islands, and drew near the\nhaven where the giant rock with its dark countenance looked down on\nthe little boat that glided past it to the smooth strand. Orm sprang\nout, took the exhausted Aslog in his arms, and carried her across to\nthe dry, soft sand. He looked round for something to eat. Fruit-trees\nwaved their blossoming crowns at no great distance, but the time for\nfruit was not come. Orm looked still more anxiously about the beach.\nThen he saw a mussel right at his feet, then another and another. He\nlifted them, and offered them to his half-fainting wife; and so much\nrefreshed did she feel by the slight nourishment, that she was able to\nwalk towards the centre of the island, supported by Orm's arm, in\nsearch of some place of shelter.\n\nThe blossoming fruit-trees bore evidence of some careful hand, but no\npath, no footprint told of the cheering nearness of human beings. They\nwent on further through the green island, over which the sun was\nshedding its last golden beams. There before them they saw a clear\nspace amid the foliage, and with hearts beating with hope and fear\nthey approached it. Soon they stood before a house of very ancient\narchitecture. Its walls sank deep into the earth, and towered so high\ninto the air that the firs could scarcely stretch their dark branches\nover the hide-covered roof. The windows were small, and their panes\nmade of fishes' skins. The door was made of strong planks, and firmly\nbound with iron. The whole house looked as if it bade defiance to the\nstorms, and had done so for centuries.\n\nBut where were now its builders? Did they lie sleeping in the depths\nof the ocean? Did the tall grass of the little islands wave above\ntheir last resting-place, or did they still sit, spell-bound, behind\nthe iron-bound door and the grey walls of the dreary dwelling?\nChecking the slight shudder that shook his frame at these thoughts,\nOrm knocked at the door of the mysterious house. No sound, no footstep\ntold him that he had been heard within. He knocked again, then a third\ntime, but there was still no movement. Then he laid his hand on the\nheavy latch; the door opened, and they entered a stone-paved hall.\nThere was no one to bid them welcome or refuse them entrance. At one\nside of this hall was another door. Orm knocked, and when again there\nwas no answer he opened it, and stepped with Aslog by his side into a\nlarge and lofty apartment. There was no one to be seen, yet everything\nbore traces of an orderly hand. A bright fire burned on the hearth,\nand above it hung a cauldron with fish, the smell of which greeted the\nhungry fugitives with pleasant invitation.\n\n\"Forgive us, noble master of this house!\" said Orm in a loud voice,\nyet in a respectful tone; \"it is necessity, not forwardness, which\nmakes us intruders.\"\n\nThey both listened breathlessly; but there was still no answer. Then\nOrm poured some of the contents of the cauldron into two plates, and\nplaced them on the table. With trembling at first, but afterwards with\ngrowing comfort and courage, the wanderers enjoyed the much-needed\nfood.\n\nWhen their hunger was satisfied, and their spirits revived, they\nlooked around them. At the farther side of the room stood two beds of\ngigantic size, and of an ancient, long-forgotten form. The fire below\nthe cauldron was getting low, the evening light had ceased to fall\nthrough the windows, and the darkness was only broken by the faint\nglimmer of the dying embers.\n\nNature at last claimed her rights. The wanderers' eyes were almost\nclosing, and, laying aside all fear, they took possession of the\ncouches where surely giant forms had once reposed.\n\nWhen they awoke the sun was shining brightly outside, but its beams\ncould fall but dimly through the rude window-panes. The doors were\nfirmly fastened, and there was no trace of human footsteps, yet the\nfire burned once more on the hearth, from the bubbling cauldron rose a\ntempting fragrance, and the table was laid as for a meal.\n\n\"See, dear Orm,\" cried Aslog joyfully, pointing to the fire and the\ntable, \"this language is easy to understand, though it be a silent\none. The unseen owners of this dwelling know our need, and bid us\nwelcome to their hospitable roof.\"\n\nWhen they had again partaken of the contents of the boiling cauldron,\nOrm and Aslog went into the hall, and found there a stair which led up\nto a room just below the hide-covered roof. This and the room in which\nthey had passed the night were the only apartments of the house, but\nthey contained all that was necessary for a life of retirement. There\nwas no sign of any inhabitant, yet it seemed as if some one had lately\nbeen there, whose hand had lovingly arranged everything for the poor\nhomeless ones. They understood the silent language, and they remained\nhenceforth contentedly in the house, enjoying the sweet feeling that\nthey had at last a home.\n\nOrm never cast his net into the sea without drawing out a rich supply\nof delicious fish; the snares he set in the morning for the birds were\nnever empty at evening. The fruit-trees bore abundantly, and Aslog\nfound plenty of employment in gathering and storing the rich harvest.\n\nSummer passed away, and the short autumn was drawing towards its\nclose, when a lovely baby boy came to cheer the hearts of Orm and\nAslog through the dreary winter. The child was called Saemund, and\nseemed to his parents a pledge of future reconciliation.\n\nOne day Orm was holding his little son in his arms, and watching with\ndelight his baby smiles, and Aslog stood at the fire preparing the\nmidday meal, when a tall shadow passed the window, the heavy house\ndoor swung open, and a loud knocking was heard at the door of the\nroom. Aslog let the spoon fall in terror, and even brave Orm pressed\nhis boy closer to his heart as the visitor entered.\n\nA gigantic woman stepped into the room. Her stature was greater than\nOrm and Aslog had ever seen among their own powerful nation. She wore\na sky-blue robe with a silver-embroidered hem; a golden fillet bound\nher long snow-white hair, and on her once beautiful features centuries\nof joy and grief seemed to have left their traces.\n\n\"Do not be afraid,\" said the majestic visitor, with gentle gravity;\n\"this is my island and my house, but I gladly gave them up to you when\nI knew of your distress. Only one thing I ask of you. Christmas Eve is\ndrawing near. For that one night let me have the room for a few hours,\nwhile we hold our yearly festivity. But you must promise me two\nthings--not to speak a word while our feast lasts, and not to make any\nattempt to see what is going on in the room below. If you grant this\nrequest you may live here undisturbed, and enjoy my protection until\nyou wish to leave the island.\"\n\nWith lightened hearts Orm and Aslog gave the promise, then the\nmajestic lady bowed her silvery head in gracious farewell, and passed\nout through the door.\n\nIt was Christmas Eve; Aslog had cleaned and tidied the room with even\nmore than her ordinary care. The boards were snow-white, and Orm\nstrewed them with finely-cloven fir-twigs. The fire burned brightly on\nthe neatly-swept hearth, and above it hung the shining cauldron. Aslog\nrolled her baby in the softest of the skins that served to cover her\nbed, and went with Orm to the upper room, where they sat down beside\nthe warm chimney of the apartment below, which passed of necessity\nthrough this second storey.\n\nFor a long time all was silent. Suddenly a sweet, soft sound was\nheard; others followed, and soon the music swelled in waves of melody\nthrough the night air. Aslog listened entranced, while Orm went to\nthe gable end of the roof, and, since this was not forbidden, opened\nthe shutter which in the daytime served to let in air and light.\n\nThere was motion over the whole island. Little shrivelled forms, with\ngrave and aged faces, were bustling about with blazing torches in\ntheir hands. They ran dry-shod over the waves, and made their way to\nthe rock that guarded the entrance to the bay. When they reached it\nthey placed themselves in a circle round it, and sat down on the\nground in respectful humility. Then a tall form approached from the\ncentre of the island. The dwarfs opened their circle to admit her, and\nOrm recognised by the flickering light the noble lady who had a few\ndays before paid them so unlooked-for a visit. Her sky-blue robe and\nthe gold in her hair gleamed with even more than their former\nbrilliance. She stepped up to the rock, threw her arms round the cold\nstone, and remained so for a moment in a silent embrace. Suddenly the\nstone acquired life and motion. The gigantic limbs were freed from\ntheir petrifaction, the hair rolled down over the shoulders, the eyes\nbegan to glow once more with life. As if awaking from the sleep of\ndeath, the giant rose, seized the hand of the stately lady whose\nloving embrace had called him back to life, and they both turned\ntowards the house, whither the dwarfs accompanied them with flaming\ntorches and heart-enthralling melody. The ground seemed to tremble\nbeneath the tread of the giants. Soon they reached the house-door.\nThen Orm shut the shutter, and groped his way back to where his wife\nsat beside the chimney.\n\n[Illustration: GURU AWAKES THE ROCK TO LIFE.]\n\nBelow there was rattling of dishes and the patter of many feet; the\nyoung couple heard every sound through the wide chimney. The strong\nvoice of the rock giant sounded like thunder to human ears, and the\nvoice of the lady, which Orm and Aslog had heard once before, was like\nthe powerful notes of some musical instrument. Tables and chairs were\nmoved, drinking-horns were knocked together; the feast was beginning,\nand now was heard once more that music which had before so overwhelmed\nAslog with delight. Then an irresistible longing seized her to see the\nwondrous company which Orm had described to her. She rose and groped\nfor a crack in the floor through which it was possible to see into the\nroom below. Orm in silence held out his hand to check her fatal\nrashness, but the movement woke the sleeping babe, who, terrified by\nthe unwonted sounds below, raised a cry that went to the mother's\nheart. Forgetting everything now but her child's distress, she began,\nas was her wont, to soothe him with caressing words. Then suddenly an\nawful cry and a wild tumult arose below, the music ceased, and through\nthe door rushed the dwarfs in wild commotion. Their torches went out,\nthe noise of their flight sounded but a few moments, then night and\nsilence reigned over the place which a minute before had resounded\nwith festive merriment.\n\nIn deadly terror Aslog had sunk back on her seat, tremblingly awaiting\nthe fate that her rashness had called down on her dear ones. They were\nanxious hours that they spent now in the dark upper room, almost more\nanxious than those of their flight and of that hard struggle with the\nwaves. At last the morning dawned. A clear sunbeam shot through a hole\nin the shutter and awoke the boy, who began to cry with cold and\nhunger. Then her love for her child overcame her fear, and Aslog\npersuaded her husband to go down with her and learn their fate. They\ndescended the stairs, trembling at every step. Now they stood at the\ndoor of the room and listened. There was no sound--all was still as\ndeath. At last they lifted the latch; Aslog pressed her child to her\nheart and entered the room. A loud cry escaped her lips. At the far\nend of the room, at the seat of honour at the table, sat the mighty\ngiant whose awakening Orm had witnessed; but life had again left his\nveins, and he sat there a cold, grey mass of rock. It seemed to Aslog\nthat the stony hand which still grasped the drinking-horn might yet be\nraised to hurl destruction at her and her dear ones. She gazed in\nspeechless terror at the rock-giant, her eyes passing slowly from the\nmotionless head to the massive folds of the stone garment. Then she\nperceived another form, sunk motionless, as in deepest anguish, on the\nfloor. The face was pressed against the cold stone, but the blue robe\nwith the silver-embroidered hem and the flowing white hair told the\nterrified Aslog who it was.\n\n\"Andfind, my Andfind!\" moaned the giant lady, raising her face at\nlast, \"thou wilt never again smile on thy faithful Guru, and rejoice\nwith her at thy short space of life and freedom.\"\n\nAslog uttered a cry, but not, as before, of terror for her own fate,\nbut of anguish and remorse. Her bitter sobbing caused even the\ngrief-stricken giantess to raise her head.\n\n\"Do not weep so,\" she said gently, \"and do not be afraid; I could\nindeed easily kill you, and break this house, which I gave you as your\nhome, like a child's toy. It is true that your forgetfulness has\ncaused untold anguish to me, but the revenge of the powerful must\nbe--forgiveness! Then do not weep, for there is nothing to fear.\"\n\n\"Oh, that is not all!\" sobbed Aslog. \"The names which you named, noble\nlady, cut me to the heart. They remind me of a legend which I often\nheard when a child about Guru, the beautiful giant-maiden, who was\nobliged to flee from cruel Odin with her beloved Andfind. The story of\ntheir fate always touched me deeply, and I thought when I heard these\nnames that you might perhaps be that Guru, and this thought added\nfresh bitterness to my remorse.\"\n\nThe giantess appeared sunk in dreamy meditation.\n\n\"And do they remember us still in the old Fatherland?\" she said at\nlength; \"and are there yet any halls remaining of Hrungnir's castle?\"\n\n\"No, noble lady,\" answered Aslog, \"they have all long since crumbled\nto dust, for many centuries have passed over Norway since those days.\nIt is true a proud castle still looks down on the foaming waves, but\nit is owned by Saemund, whose only child I am.\"\n\n\"Our fate, O daughter of my former home, is wondrously alike,\" said\nGuru; \"but your life will end more joyfully than mine. We lived here\nin undisturbed happiness for many centuries, for it was to this island\nthat our trusty bark bore us after that night of death. This house,\nwhich my husband's strong arm built for our home, is small and poor\ncompared with my father's halls, but we did not miss the lost\nsplendour. The days went by in quiet happiness, and we felt no\nlongings after the land which drove out us and our friends. The dwarfs\nalso, who like us had turned their backs on an inhospitable country,\nsettled round about on the little islands, and lived there in the\nheart of the earth in peace and contentment. Every Christmas Eve we\nmet in this room, and held festival as our forefathers did even before\nyour religion had spread to these northern lands. Centuries passed\naway, and one evening I was standing with Andfind at the shore of our\nisland looking out over the sea. On the northern horizon appeared a\nstately ship, and Andfind, whose eye was sharper than the eagle's, and\nhad power to see into the future, recognised in the man at the prow a\npowerful foe of the freedom of Norway and of our authority. It was\nOlaf, whom you call a saint, who, not long afterwards, overcame the\nprinces of Norway in one night, and destroyed the last vestiges of the\nold customs. All this my husband's prudent foresight saw, and with a\nmighty effort he blew the waves to fury with his breath, so that they\nthreatened to break Olaf's proud ship to pieces. But the invader spoke\nsome prayer such as you uttered when you approached our shores, and\nthe raging sea grew calm. Then Andfind put forth his hand to push back\nthe vessel as it drew near the shore, but Olaf, raising his hands\ntowards heaven, said, in a tone of stern reproof--'Stand thou there a\nstone henceforth!' Immediately the eyes in which I had been wont to\nread my husband's every wish were closed, the hand that had grasped\nmine lovingly grew cold and hard, the form so full of life and beauty\nturned to unfeeling stone, and my beloved Andfind stood a grey,\nlifeless rock upon the shore. The invaders sailed on towards the coast\nof Norway, and I remained in dreary desolation on the now lonely\nisland. Only once a year, on Christmas Eve, petrified giants are\nallowed a few hours of life if one of their own race embraces them,\nand thus sacrifices centuries of his own lifetime. I loved my husband\ntoo dearly not to offer this sacrifice willingly, that he and I might\nenjoy yearly a few hours of intercourse. I never counted how many\ntimes he woke to life at my embrace, how many centuries of my life I\nyielded for his sake; I did not wish to know the day when I, as I\nembraced him, should likewise turn to stone, and stand henceforth on\nthe shore one for ever with my Andfind. Now all is over,\" Guru\nconcluded; \"I may never more awake my beloved one, for a human eye, a\nhuman voice has disturbed the sacred festival of our spirit-race.\nStone must my Andfind remain till that day when all the rocks and\nmountains of old Norway will perish in the ruin of the world.\"\n\nShe threw her arms once more round the cold stone, lifted her golden\nharp from the floor, and then turned to Orm and Aslog, who had\nlistened in silent grief.\n\n\"Farewell!\" she said; \"I leave you my protection and my blessing.\nYours are henceforth the costly vessels that adorned our festive\nboard; I need them no more. Live still in peace and happiness in this\nhouse until you return to receive Saemund's forgiveness, and live a\nlife of gladness on the site of my old home.\"\n\nShe passed out, and her sorrowing guests followed her to the door.\nWithout once looking back, she glided away through the leafless trees;\nher blue robe gleamed far away over the snow-covered plain. Orm and\nAslog watched her crossing the waves to the little islands; then they\nsaw her no more.\n\nHad she descended to the music of her golden harp into the cold\nbillows? or did she go to rule as queen in the kingdom of dwarfs? Orm\nand Aslog never knew her fate, but her prophecies of good were richly\nfulfilled.\n\nSickness and misfortune kept far aloof from their island home. They\nwere happy in their mutual love, strong in body, cheerful in spirit,\ncontented even in their isolation. Their boy grew daily in beauty,\nstrength, and obedience; the trees bore double fruit, the sea yielded\nits tribute more freely than ever, and the bird-snares were never\nempty. Sunshine and the fragrance of flowers filled the air, and they\ndrank in life and happiness at every breath. And when winter came, the\nstorm raged round the house, and the thick snowflakes whirled through\nthe cracking fir branches against the window, then the little family\nsat cosily in their sheltered home; the dry wood blazed brightly on\nthe hearth, and at the cheerful fireside sat Aslog making nets, while\nOrm carved away at a new oar, and the child listened eagerly to the\ntales of Old Norway.\n\nYear after year rolled away, and left no traces of care on the faces\nof the lonely exiles, save that when Aslog thought of her father a\nshadow crossed her white brow, and the old longing awoke for his love\nand forgiveness.\n\nIt was the beginning of spring. The fruit-trees wore their wreaths of\nblossoms, and the sunbeams played through the dark fir branches on the\nroof of the lonely house. The door opened, and Orm, accompanied by\nAslog and the boy, stepped out, bearing one of the precious vessels\nwhich Guru had left as a parting gift to her guests. The utensils\nwhich her motherly hand had provided had become worn out in the course\nof years, and Orm was going to the coast of Norway to sell the golden\ngoblet, and buy the needed utensils with its price. He had long\npostponed this step, for he still feared the sharp eye of treachery\nand revenge; but their need was pressing, and there could be no longer\ndelay.\n\nThe parting was a bitter one. Aslog embraced him again and again, and\neven Guru's prophetic words had lost their power to comfort. But Orm,\nalthough his heart was far from light, soothed her with a promise of a\nquick return; then he tore himself away, sprang into a boat, and\npushed from the shore.\n\nThe boat flew like a sea-mew over the waves, through the circle of\nlittle islands, and out into the open sea. A wind as fresh as that\nwhich had favoured their flight came now from the north to swell the\nwhite sail. Orm drew in the oars and watched how his boat darted over\nthe gleaming waves. He directed his course towards the south-east. As\nit was drawing towards noon the coasts of his native land appeared\nabove the horizon; and long before the set of sun the boat sailed up\nthe narrow waters of the Trondheim Fiord, and landed at the quay of\nthe old royal city. Orm passed the streets with hurried steps, and\nwith the precious vessel under his arm he entered the shop of a\ngoldsmith.\n\nThe man seemed amazed at the rich metal and the rare and elaborate\nworkmanship, paid without demur the price asked, and Orm hastened\ngladly to another building to choose his purchases. There was a great\ncrowd of buyers, and fearing lest some old acquaintance should be\namong them, he turned aside, and examined the wares in silence.\n\n\"Welcome, friend! What's the news in your mountains?\" said the\nmerchant to a countryman who had just entered.\n\n\"Thanks, sir, not much good,\" replied the newcomer.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" asked the merchant. \"Is your master, rich Saemund, not\nwell? Has he not yet submitted to his fate?\"\n\nOrm listened eagerly.\n\n\"It will soon be all over with him,\" replied the countryman; \"his\ngrief about his daughter is breaking his heart. He is ill, lonely, and\nsad. He has had it proclaimed through the whole land that he will\nforgive the fugitives everything if they will only return; and he has\npromised a great reward to any one who will bring him the smallest\ntidings of them. But they seem to have vanished from the earth, and it\nis most likely the old man will die without one of his kin to close\nhis eyes in the last sleep.\"\n\nOrm thought no more about his purchases; he thought only of Aslog and\nher dying father. Without being noticed in the crowd he left the shop.\nScarcely had he turned the first corner when he ran at full speed to\nthe quay, sprang down the steps, loosed his boat, and by the last rays\nof the setting sun he steered skilfully along the narrow fiord among\nall the larger vessels, and rowed towards the ocean. His heart beat\nwith eager longing and delight. Had not a reconciliation with the\nfather of his loved Aslog long been the most cherished wish of his\nheart as well as of hers, though he had been silent on the subject for\nAslog's sake?\n\nIt was night when his boat glided out of the fiord and sailed out to\nsea. The wind, which had blown towards land all day, had turned, and,\nsweeping now from the Norwegian mountains, drove Orm's boat with the\nswiftness of an arrow over the waters. The moon rose clear and full\nabove his native land, and the waves dashed their silver spray against\nthe keel. Orm could not but think of that night when Aslog lay hungry\nand exhausted at his feet--behind him terror and treachery--before, an\nunknown future. The moon's clear radiance and the sparkling waves were\nthe same then as now, but in all else how blessed was the change!\n\nThus the night passed, and when the east began to glow with red his\nboat glided between the little islands, and when the first full beam\nfell on the fir-tree tops he landed on the shore of his island home.\n\nHe scarcely took time to fasten the boat. Then he hastened under the\nblossoming fruit-trees--with empty hand, indeed, yet with a richer\ngift than Aslog would have dared to hope for.\n\nAnd now he stood beside her couch. \"Awake, awake, beloved one!\" he\nwhispered as he bent over her; \"I bring news of your father, the best\nnews that your heart could wish for--love and forgiveness!\"\n\nThen Aslog awoke, and her beaming eyes, the silent tears that fell\nover her clasped hands, told of even deeper joy than Orm had pictured\nto himself as he hastened home.\n\nSoon all was bustle in the quiet room. Once more Aslog lit the fire,\nonce more the breakfast bubbled in the cauldron, while she adorned\nherself and her boy in festive garments, and Orm carried Guru's gifts\nof gold and precious stones down to the boat. Once more they sat\ntogether at the table enjoying the provisions of Guru's hospitable\nhome. They gazed at the lofty walls which had afforded them shelter,\nand sadly looked on the stony form of Andfind, who had for years been\na silent member of the little household. Then Orm seized his wife's\nhand; and they left the house, carefully closing the door behind them,\nand followed the boy, who had run on before in his eagerness, towards\nthe strand.\n\n\"Farewell, thou lovely island!\" cried Orm, as he loosed the rope; \"and\nif ever again hunted fugitives land on thy shore, be to them as sweet\na home as thou hast been to us.\"\n\nThe child was already seated in the boat, playing with the beautiful\nvessels of gold and precious stones, and Aslog sat down beside him to\ntell him about his new home and his dear grandfather, while Orm dipped\nthe oars, and the boat left the strand of the \"Last Home of the\nGiants.\"\n\nThe sun was just about to sink into the sea; its rays cast a parting\nglance on the windows of the lonely castle, on the rock which had once\nresounded with mirth and revelry. And now the splendid halls were\ndesolate. The servants, serving not out of love but out of fear,\nobeyed in sullen silence the commands of their gloomy master. The\ndaughter, the only one whom his cold heart had ever loved, was lost to\nhim. His old age was lonely and desolate. Then his pride yielded.\n\"What if she has disgraced my house by choosing the servant instead of\nthe prince?--still she is my child, my only one, and dear and loving\nshe has always been to me! Oh, bring back my daughter, my Aslog, that\nI may look upon her face before I die!\"\n\nRich were the rewards offered by the sorrowing father for the least\ntidings of his child, but he waited days and weeks in vain. She seemed\nlost to him for ever.\n\n\"Take me out, that I may see the sun as long as I have sight!\" said he\nto his servants as the evening sun looked in at the castle windows.\n\nThe servants supported his tottering steps to the edge of the rock.\nThen he beckoned to them to go, and leave him with his sorrow.\n\nThe sun sank like a ball of fire into the ocean, and the sea rolled in\npurple waves from the farthest horizon, and broke them into golden\nspray at the foot of the castle rock.\n\n\"Would that my old age could be calm and clear, like this sweet\nevening, and would that my life might sink in brightness as the sun\ninto the sea!\"\n\nThen he heard in the distance the splashing of oars, and his eye, keen\nas of old, looked eagerly towards the horizon. A boat, gently urged on\nby the wind, was sailing from the north-west. Nearer and nearer it\ncame, and seemed to be directing its course to the rock where the old\nman sat. At the helm sat a manly form, and at the prow stood a\ngraceful woman with a boy pressed closely to her side. Her hair\ngleamed golden, as his daughter's used to do; and now she raised her\nhand, and fluttered a white kerchief as in eager greeting. Saemund's\nheart beat with glad presentiment, he felt his weakness no longer, but\nraised himself, unaided, from the stone breastwork, and fixed his gaze\non the approaching boat. Now the little vessel came up to the very\nfoot of the rock, he heard the chain rattling round the post, and the\nsound of familiar voices was borne up to him on the evening air. It\nwas no dream. There were light footsteps beside him, and when he\nturned to look, Aslog, his lost Aslog, knelt before him, her eyes full\nof humble penitence, and by her side knelt a fair-haired boy, who\nstretched out his hands to the old man, and echoed his mother's words\nin childish accents--\"Oh, grandfather, forgive and love us!\"\n\nThe old man opened his arms, and pressed the welcome suppliants to his\nheart, and as he kissed his lovely grandson, he said in a voice more\nmild and soft than was his wont--\"Thank God, I shall not die in my\nloneliness after all!\"\n\nAnd he did not die. From day to day he felt more and more of his old\nvigour, and when he saw how tenderly Aslog loved her husband, what a\nfaithful husband and father Orm was, and what a dutiful son to\nhimself, he forgot all his disappointed hopes--even the royal diadem\nthat Aslog had rejected. The love of his children and grandchildren\nmade his last days his brightest, and thus the wish of that spring\nevening was fulfilled, his old age was calm and clear, and his life\nsank in brightness as the sun into the sea.\n\n\nMarcus Ward & Co., Royal Ulster Works, Belfast.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nIllustrated & Educational Works\n\nPUBLISHED BY\n\nMARCUS WARD AND CO.,\n\n67, 68, Chandos Street, Strand,\n\nLONDON;\n\nROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST.\n\n\nELEGANT GIFT-BOOKS.\n\n_=Childhood a Hundred Years Ago.=_ By SARAH TYTLER, Author of \"Papers\nfor Thoughtful Girls,\" &c., &c. With Six Chromographs, after Paintings\nby SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Small quarto, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 10/6.\n\n_=Landseer's Dogs and their Stories.=_ By SARAH TYTLER, Author of\n\"Childhood a Hundred Years Ago,\" &c., &c. With Six Chromographs, after\nPaintings by Sir Edwin Landseer. 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LOFTIE, B.A., F.S.A. With numerous\nIllustrations by R. BATEMAN, after the manner of the best period of\nearly Wood Engraving. Rough edges, quaint binding. 15/-. N.B.--A few\ncopies with special binding may be had. Price 40/-.\n\n=_Historical Records of the 2nd Royal Surrey Militia._= With\nIntroductory Chapters, giving a Sketch of the History of the English\nMilitia, and of events in the Military History of Surrey. By JOHN\nDAVIS, Captain in the Regiment. Frontispiece and numerous Full-page\nIllustrations specially prepared for this work. Large octavo. 21/-.\n\n\nGEMS OF HOME SCENERY.\n\nA series of Topographical Gift-Books. Edited by the Rev. W. J. LOFTIE,\nB.A., F.S.A. With Six Chromo Facsimiles of Original Drawings by the\nlate T. L. ROWBOTHAM, Member of the Society of Painters in\nWater-Colours, and numerous Illustrations on Wood. 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With Five Coloured Illustrations, from Drawings by H. STACY\nMARKS, A.R.A. Foolscap quarto, cloth extra, bevelled boards.\n\n     \"Not only will interest be derived from the story, but\n     instruction as to the manners and habits of the people in the\n     days of good Queen Bess.\"--_City Press._\n\n_=Melcomb Manor: a Family Chronicle.=_ By F. SCARLETT POTTER. Six\nIllustrations, in Gold and Colours. Foolscap quarto, cloth extra,\nbevelled boards.\n\n     \"Altogether a very pretty book, whether as regards the pictures\n     or the story.\"--_Saturday Review._\n\n_=Puck and Blossom: a Fairy Tale.=_ By ROSA MULHOLLAND, Author of \"The\nLittle Flower-Seekers,\" \"Eldergowan,\" &c. Six Illustrations, in Gold\nand Colours. Foolscap quarto, cloth extra, bevelled boards. _New\nEdition._\n\n     \"Pretty stories, beautifully illustrated in gold and\n     colours.\"--_Daily News._\n\n     \"The fairy pictures are full of life and drollery.... 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Foolscap quarto, cloth extra, bevelled boards.\n_New Edition._\n\n     \"A capital book for girls.\"--_Globe._\n\n_=The Children's Voyage; or, a Trip in the Water Fairy.=_ By Mrs. GEORGE\nCUPPLES, Author of \"Katty Lester,\" &c. With Twelve Chromographs of\nShips, Boats, and Sea Views, after Edward Duncan. Foolscap quarto,\ncloth extra, bevelled boards.\n\n     \"Well adapted to the comprehension of children.\"--_Standard._\n\n\nNEW SERIES OF 5/- BOOKS BY POPULAR AUTHORS.\n\nWith Coloured Frontispiece, Illuminated Title-page, and numerous\noriginal Illustrations. Post Octavo, Cloth Extra.\n\n_=Three Years at Wolverton: a Public School Story.=_ By a Wolvertonian.\n\n_=Last Cruise of the Ariadne.=_ By S. WHITCHURCH SADLER, R.N., Author of\n\"The Ship of Ice,\" \"Perilous Seas,\" &c.\n\n_=Perilous Seas, and how Oriana sailed them.=_ By S. W. SADLER, R.N.,\nAuthor of \"The Ship of Ice,\" &c.\n\n     \"All through 'Perilous Seas' there is enough stirring incident\n     to arouse, and enough good writing to sustain, the interest of\n     its youthful readers.\"--_Hour._\n\n_=Miss Hitchcock's Wedding Dress.=_ By the Author of \"A Very Young\nCouple,\" \"Mrs. Jerningham's Journal,\" &c.\n\n     \"One of those pleasant stories, in an attractive dress, which\n     are becoming almost a specialty of Marcus Ward &\n     Co.\"--_Morning Advertiser._\n\n_=Ralph Somerville; or, a Midshipman's Adventures in the= Pacific\nOcean._ By CHARLES H. EDEN, Author of \"The Twin Brothers of\nElfvedale,\" \"India, Historical and Descriptive,\" &c.\n\n     \"There is always an air of reality about Mr. Eden's descriptive\n     passages which makes one feel that they are the result of\n     actual experience.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n_=Myrtle and Cypress: a Tale of Chequered Life.=_ By ANNETTE CALTHROP.\n\n     \"The tale is altogether above the average, healthy in tone, and\n     worked out with no little ability.\"--_John Bull._\n\n\nBOOKS AT THREE-AND-SIXPENCE.\n\nTRAVEL AND ADVENTURE.\n\n_=India, Historical and Descriptive.=_ With an Account of the Sepoy\nMutiny of 1857-58, by C. H. EDEN, Author of \"Ralph Somervile,\" &c.\nSixty-six Illustrations, Map, and Coloured Frontispiece. Crown octavo,\ncloth extra.\n\n_=Notes of Travel in Egypt and Nubia.=_ By J. L. STEPHENS. Revised and\nenlarged, with an account of the Suez Canal. Seventy-one\nIllustrations, Map, and Coloured Frontispiece. Crown octavo, cloth\nextra.\n\n_=Fairyland Tales of Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, &c.=_ From the\nGerman of Villamaria. Twenty-five Illustrations and Coloured\nFrontispiece. Crown octavo, cloth extra.\n\n_=Robinson Crusoe.=_ By DANIEL DEFOE. A new and beautiful edition, with\nnumerous Illustrations, Coloured Frontispiece and Title. Crown octavo,\ncloth extra.\n\n_=The Vicar of Wakefield.=_ By OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Numerous Illustrations,\nColoured Frontispiece and Title. Crown octavo, cloth extra.\n\nWith Full-page Original Illustrations, Coloured Frontispiece, and\nIlluminated Title-page. Post octavo, cloth, gold and black.\n\n_=The Ship of Ice: a Strange Story of the Polar Seas.=_ By S. WHITCHURCH\nSADLER, R.N., Author of \"Perilous Seas,\" \"Marshall Vavasour,\" &c.\n\n     \"Not only a 'Strange Story,' but one full of exciting\n     interest.... The author writes in a vigorous, manly style, and\n     the book is one which most English boys, with their love of\n     daring and adventure, are likely heartily to relish.\"--_Pall\n     Mall Gazette._\n\n     \"A capital book of adventure.\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n_=Chronicles of Cosy Nook: a Book of Stories for Boys and= Girls._ By\nMrs. S. C. HALL.\n\n     \"Mrs. Hall never in her best days wrote a better story for\n     youngsters.\"--_Morning Advertiser._\n\n     \"This gifted lady and her husband are known to be among the\n     finest writers of children's books in this\n     country.\"--_Edinburgh Courant._\n\n_=Country Maidens: a Story of the Present Day.=_ By M. BRAMSTON, Author\nof \"The Panelled House,\" &c.\n\n     \"A charming fresh little story, which must give pleasure to\n     both old and young ... deserves to be heartily\n     commended.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n     \"As charming a tale of home life as we have often\n     met.\"--_Standard._\n\n_=A Very Young Couple.=_ By the Author of \"Mrs. Jerningham's Journal,\"\n\"Miss Hitchcock's Wedding Dress,\" &c.\n\n     \"A very lively and pleasant little tale.\"--_Spectator._\n\n\nBOOKS AT TWO-AND-SIXPENCE.\n\nWith Coloured Frontispiece, Illuminated Title, and Full-page Original\nIllustrations.\n\n_=Mildred's Mistake.=_ A Still-Life Study. By F. LEVIEN, Author of\n\"Little Ada's Jewels,\" \"Maggie's Pictures,\" &c. Small octavo, cloth\nextra.\n\n_=Kaspar and the Seven Wonderful Pigeons of Wuerzburg.=_ By JULIA\nGODDARD. Small octavo, cloth extra.\n\n_=Dobbie and Dobbie's Master: a Peep into the Life of a= Very Little\nMan._ By N. D'ANVERS, Author of \"Little Minnie's Troubles,\" &c. Small\noctavo, cloth extra.\n\n_=Tom: the History of a very Little Boy.=_ By H. RUTHERFURD RUSSELL.\nSmall octavo, cloth, gold and black. _New Edition._\n\n     \"Almost as good, in its way, as Mr. Carroll's 'Alice in\n     Wonderland.' Parents and lovers of childhood will like it much,\n     as the childish reader is sure to do.\"--_Illustrated London\n     News._\n\n     \"A very good story for boys.\"--_Globe._\n\n_=Tom Seven Years Old: a Sequel to \"Tom.\"=_ By H. RUTHERFURD RUSSELL.\nSmall octavo, cloth, gold and black.\n\n     \"The truest and purest exhibition of a natural little boy's\n     mind that we have seen in any story of child\n     life.\"--_Illustrated London News._\n\n_=Minna's Holiday, and Other Tales.=_ By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. Small\noctavo, cloth, gold and black.\n\n     \"Simple, pleasantly-written stories.\"--_Daily News._\n\n_=Doda's Birthday: the Record of all that befell a Little Girl= on a\nLong, Eventful Day._ By EDWIN J. ELLIS. Small octavo, cloth, gold and\nblack.\n\n     \"As pleasant a book as could be given to any little\n     girl.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n     \"A most suitable book for girls, and one that will delight the\n     little misses immensely.\"--_Edinburgh Courant._\n\n     \"A charming book.\"--_Daily News._\n\n_=The Markhams of Ollerton: a Tale of the Civil War=, 1642-1647._ By E.\nGLAISTER. Small octavo, cloth, gold and black. _New Edition._\n\n     \"Abounds with thrilling incidents of that eventful\n     period.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n     \"A well-written story of the civil war, from 1642 to\n     1647.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n     \"The story of Charles I. is one that never loses its charm, and\n     when so pleasantly and colloquially told, and embellished by\n     such pretty and characteristic pictures as we have here, it\n     will be sure to find a large and appreciative\n     audience.\"--_Daily News._\n\n_=Eldergowan; or, Twelve Months of my Life, and Other= Tales._ By ROSA\nMULHOLLAND, Author of \"Puck and Blossom,\" \"The Little Flower-Seekers,\"\n&c. Small octavo, cloth, gold and black. _New Edition._\n\n     \"One of the pleasantest little books we have met for some time;\n     charmingly illustrated.\"--_Illustrated Review._\n\n     \"A perfect little gem in its way.\"--_Civil Service Gazette._\n\n     \"A fine volume for girls.\"--_Edinburgh Courant._\n\n_=Christmas at Annesley; or, how the Grahams spent their= Holidays._ By\nM. E. SHIPLEY. Small octavo, cloth, gold and black. _New Edition._\n\n     \"A delightful book for children.\"--_Sunday Times._\n\n     \"Will be read with delight by young folks.\"--_Lloyd's Weekly\n     London News._\n\n_=Turnaside Cottage.=_ By MARY SENIOR CLARK, Author of \"Lost Legends of\nthe Nursery Rhymes.\" Small octavo, cloth, gold and black. _New\nEdition._\n\n     \"An interesting story, well told.\"--_Birmingham Morning News._\n\n     \"Charmingly written, impressing good and useful lessons.\"--_Art\n     Journal._\n\n_=The Fairy Spinner.=_ By MIRANDA HILL. Small octavo, cloth, gold and\nblack. _New Edition._\n\n     \"Really enchanting, and will enthral the young\n     reader.\"--_Edinburgh Courant._\n\n     \"Well illustrated.\"--_Daily News._\n\n_=Pollie and Jack: a Small Story for Small People.=_ By ALICE HEPBURN,\nAuthor of \"Two Little Cousins.\" Small octavo, cloth, gold and black.\n_New Edition._\n\n     \"Capitally written down to the level of little\n     folks.\"--_Morning Advertiser._\n\n     \"Will be much enjoyed by young folks.\"--_Figaro._\n\n\nNEW SERIES OF TWO-AND-SIXPENNY GIFT-BOOKS.\n\n_=Nanny's Treasure.=_ From the French of Madame DE STOLZ. Nineteen\nFull-page Illustrations and Coloured Frontispiece. Small octavo, cloth\nextra.\n\n_=The Little Head of the Family.=_ From the French of Mdlle. FLEURIOT.\nFourteen Full-page Illustrations and Coloured Frontispiece. Small\noctavo, cloth extra.\n\n_=Where the Rail Runs Now: a Story of the Coaching Days.=_ By F.\nFRANKFORT MOORE. With Illustrations. Small octavo, cloth extra.\n\n_=Animals of the Farm: their Structure and Physiology.=_ A Handbook for\nAgricultural Students and Farmers. By JOHN F. HODGES, M.D., F.C.S.,\n&c. Second Edition, revised by the Author. Numerous Illustrations.\nSmall octavo, cloth, 2/6.\n\n\nBOOKS AT TWO SHILLINGS.\n\n_=Two Little Cousins.=_ By ALICE HEPBURN, Author of \"Pollie and Jack.\"\nFive Coloured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"Adorned with bright chromographs, and printed in large, clear\n     type to suit beginners.\"--_Standard._\n\n_=Percy's First Friends.=_ By M. D. Five Coloured Illustrations, Cloth,\nIlluminated.\n\n     \"An agreeable account of the early adventures of a motherless\n     boy.\"--_Lloyd's Weekly London News._\n\n=Five Little Farmers.= By ROSA MULHOLLAND, Author of \"Puck and Blossom,\"\n\"The Little Flower-Seekers,\" \"Eldergowan,\" &c. Five Coloured\nIllustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"Contains a number of cunningly worked-out chromo lithographs,\n     in which children and their domestic pets are grouped in a most\n     artistic and effective manner.\"--_Figaro._\n\n_=Maggie's Pictures; or, the Great Life told to a Child.=_ By FANNY\nLEVIEN, Author of \"Mildred's Mistake, \"Little Ada's Jewels.\" Five\nColoured Illustrations, and Illuminated Title-page. Cloth,\nIlluminated.\n\n     \"Will be welcome for the simplicity of its early\n     lessons.\"--_Lloyd's Newspaper._\n\n_=The Twin Brothers of Elfvedale: a Story of Norwegian= Peasant Life._\nBy CHARLES H. EDEN, Author of \"Ralph Somerville,\" \"India, Historical\nand Descriptive,\" &c. Coloured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated. _New\nEdition._\n\n     \"Full of adventure.... Schoolboys will welcome the\n     book.\"--_Guardian._\n\n     \"A tale of Norwegian peasant life fifty years ago, cleverly put\n     together, told in a bright, hearty view, and telling the young\n     reader a great deal about the rough, simple lives of Northern\n     folk, their customs, superstitions, and amusements.\"--_Times._\n\n_=Our Games: a Story for Children.=_ By MARY HAMILTON. Five Coloured\nIllustrations, Cloth, Illuminated. _New Edition._\n\n     \"A pleasant little book.... Attractive\n     illustrations.\"--_Standard._\n\n     \"Adventures of children, drawn in a charmingly natural\n     manner.\"--_Guardian._\n\n_=Ella's Locket, and what it brought her.=_ By G. E. DARTNELL. Five\nColoured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated. _New Edition._\n\n     \"Pleasantly conceived, and prettily told.\"--_Hour._\n\n\nBOOKS AT EIGHTEEN PENCE.\n\n_=My Dolly.=_ By H. RUTHERFURD RUSSELL, Author of \"Tom Seven Years Old.\"\nNumerous Illustrations, small 8vo, Cloth extra.\n\n_=Wildflower Win: the Journal of a Little Girl.=_ By KATHLEEN KNOX.\nNumerous Illustrations, small 8vo, Cloth extra.\n\n_=Elsie's Victory.=_ By ELEANOR P. GEARY. Coloured Illustrations, Cloth,\nIlluminated.\n\n     \"Sure to delight children.\"--_Guardian._\n\n_=Lily of the Valley: a Story for Little Boys and Girls.=_ By KATHLEEN\nKNOX. Coloured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"A pretty little gift-book, the value of which will be\n     appreciated by the very youngest of readers.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n_=Meadowleigh: a Holiday History.=_ By KATHLEEN KNOX. Coloured\nIllustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"Another of those irresistible little books for children in\n     which Messrs. Marcus Ward & Co. so cunningly combine frolicsome\n     narrative with some of the best executed and most satisfactory\n     coloured illustrations that have ever come under our\n     notice.\"--_Figaro._\n\n_=Katie Summers: a Little Tale for Little Readers.=_ By Mrs. C. HALL.\nColoured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"We hardly know whether most to praise binding, printing, or\n     literary merit.\"--_Morning Advertiser._\n\n     \"Another tempting story of and for little people.\"--_Lloyd's\n     Weekly London News._\n\n_=Roses With and Without Thorns.=_ By ESTHER FAITHFULL FLEET. Coloured\nIllustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"Suited to children of the tenderest years, interesting and\n     edifying.... The pictures are a perfect treat.\"--_Edinburgh\n     Courant._\n\n     \"Daintily decorated with delicate coloured\n     illustrations.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n_=Little Ada's Jewels.=_ By FANNY LEVIEN, Author of \"Maggie's Pictures,\"\n\"Mildred's Mistake.\" Coloured Illustrations, Cloth, Illuminated.\n\n     \"An exquisite little book for children.... No better little\n     book than this could be put into the hands of a good little boy\n     or girl.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n     \"Nicely written, and beautifully illustrated.\"--_Morning\n     Advertiser._\n\n\nELEGANT GIFT-BOOKS.\n\n_=The Garland of the Year; or, the Months, their Poetry= and Flowers._\nGiving an account of each Month, with Poetical Selections, descriptive\nof the Seasons and their Flowers; with red lines, and Floral Designs\nin Gold and Colours. Small octavo, cloth elegant, 2/6; gilt edges,\n3/-.\n\n     \"Creditable to the compiler's taste, and comprises many\n     gems.\"--_Athenaeum._\n\n_=Language and Poetry of Flowers.=_ A New Edition, carefully Revised and\nAmplified. With Six Illuminated Pages in Gold and Colours. Cloth,\nblack and gold, 2/6; Gilt Edges, 3/-.\n\nLANGUAGE AND POETRY OF FLOWERS. Pocket Edition, Illustrated in Gold\nand Colours. Cloth extra, 1/-; gilt edges, 1/3.\n\n_=The Birthday Register.=_ With Sentiments from Shakspere (a New\nSelection of suitable Quotations), printed on writing paper. With\nIlluminated Title-page. Cloth extra, 2/-; gilt edges, 2/6; and in Limp\nFrench Morocco, Morocco and Russia, from 3/6 to 10/6.\n\n     \"The association is a happy one, and in this form is neatly\n     carried out.\"--_Liverpool Weekly Albion._\n\n\nCHILDREN'S COLOURED PICTURE VOLUMES.\n\n_=Struwwelpeter.=_ Funny Picture Stories in the Struwwelpeter Manner,\n\"In merry mood for children good; with moral sad for children bad.\"\nTwenty-four pages in Colours, enamelled boards. Price 2/-. _Also, in\nTwo Books, Paper Covers, 1/- each._\n\n     \"Much genuine humour, along with healthy, moral\n     lessons.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n_=The Shaksperean Calendar.=_ A Novel Almanac and Daily Date Calendar,\nfor the Library or Boudoir. Beautifully printed in Colours. Price 1/-.\nThe Information comprises Sunrise and Sunset, Moon's Changes,\nFestivals, Holidays, &c., with an appropriate Quotation from Shakspere\nfor each Day in the Year.\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S CONCISE DIARIES.\n\n_For the Pocket--Published Annually--Lightest, Cheapest, Handiest,\nBest._\n\nTHE CONCISE DIARIES meet the universal objection to all other Pocket\nDiaries--their cumbrousness and unnecessary weight in the pocket. They\nare beautifully printed in Blue and Gold, on a light, hard, Metallic\npaper, and combine the following advantages:--\n\n    1. Maximum of Writing Space.\n    2. Minimum of Weight.\n    3. Useless Matter Omitted.\n    4. Equal Space for Sundays.\n    5. Daily Engagement Record.\n    6. The Writing is Indelible.\n\nTHE CONCISE DIARIES are made both in \"Upright\" and \"Oblong\" form, and\nin Three sizes of each form.\n\nOnly one part (Three Months) need be carried in the pocket at once.\n\nAll so-called \"Useful Information,\" which few ever read, is excluded.\n\n     \"By a capital arrangement, the maximum amount of writing space\n     is secured with the minimum amount of weight.\"--_Daily\n     Telegraph._\n\n     \"The Diary pages are furnished _separately_ in quarterly parts,\n      ... and are much smaller and handier than they otherwise would\n     be. It is a very good plan.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n_=Season's Calendar for 1877.=_ Size, 4 x 2-3/4 inches, containing four\nhighly-finished pictures, representing \"Spring,\" \"Summer,\" \"Autumn,\"\n\"Winter,\" and four pages consisting of Calendar and other Useful\nInformation. Price 6d.\n\n_=Pocket-Book Calendar.=_ A Bijou Almanac, size, 1-3/4 x 1-1/4 inches,\nwith gilt edges, suitable for purse, pocket book, or waistcoat pocket.\nPrice 1d.\n\n\nPOPULAR SERIES OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL CARDS.\n\n=SACRED SELECTIONS.= A set of Twelve Illuminated Cards, set in Floral\nBorders and Gold Grounds, with Sacred Texts and Poetry. Price 6d.\n\n=MEMORABLE WORDS= from Scripture. Twelve Mediaeval Illuminated Cards.\nPrice 6d.\n\n=PROVERBS AND PROMISES= from Holy Scripture. Three packets, each\ncontaining Twelve Floral, Decorated Cards, with Texts. Price 6d. each.\n\n    No. 1.--PROVERBS OF SOLOMON.\n    No. 2.--PROMISES (Old Testament).\n    No. 3.--PROMISES (New Testament).\n\n=FLORAL REWARD CARDS.=--Two packets, each containing Twenty-four Cards,\nwith Floral Borders in Gold and Colours. Price 6d. each.\n\n    Packet A.--Sacred Verses.\n    Packet B.--Texts of Scripture.\n\n=CHRIST THE FIRST FRUITS.= A set of Twelve Floral Cards, with Gold\nBackgrounds, Texts, and appropriate sacred poetry. Price 1/-.\n\n=WORDS OF COUNSEL=, from the Sacred Scriptures, Illuminated on Twelve\nFloral Cards. Price 1/-.\n\n=SAYINGS AND BLESSINGS OF OUR LORD.= Two Packets, each containing Twelve\nFloral Cards, printed in Colours on Black Backgrounds, with Verses\nfrom Holy Scripture. Price 1/-each.\n\n=SACRED TEXTS.= Two Packets, each containing a set of Twelve Cards, with\nFloral Illuminated Borders, printed in Gold and Colours. Price 1/-.\n\n    No. 1.--SACRED TEXTS FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT.\n    No. 2.--SACRED TEXTS FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT.\n\n=FLOWERS OF THE MONTHS.= A set of Twelve Cards, printed in Gold and\nColours, with appropriate Poetry and Descriptive Notes. In Wrapper.\nPrice 1/-.\n\n=THE HISTORY OF OUR LORD.= Twelve Scenes from the Life of Our Lord,\nprinted in Gold and Colours, with appropriate Selections from\nScripture. Price 1/-.\n\n=BIBLE PICTURES.= Twelve Scenes from Old Testament History, printed in\nColours, with appropriate Selections from Scripture. Price 1/-.\n\n=SACRED THOUGHTS=, in Verse. Twelve Floral Cards, with Black\nBackgrounds. In handsome Wrapper. Price 1/-.\n\n=A PACKET OF POESY.= Twelve Floral Cards, printed in Colours on Black\nBackgrounds. Price 1/-.\n\n=HYMNS FOR THE LAMBS OF CHRIST'S FLOCK.= Twelve Cards of Birds and\nFlowers for Children. In handsome Wrapper. Price 1/-.\n\n=THE APOSTLES' CREED.= A Packet of Twelve Highly-decorated Cards. In\nhandsome Wrapper. Price 1/-.\n\n=THE LORD'S PRAYER.= A Packet of Twelve Highly-decorated Cards. In\nhandsome Wrapper. Price 1/-.\n\n\nPOPULAR SERIES OF TEMPERANCE CARDS.\n\n=THE WATER PACKET.= A set of Twelve Cards, with Borders of Water Plants,\n& c., and Original Verses by S. C. Hall, F.S.A. Price 1/-.\n\n=THE TEXT PACKET.= Twelve Selections from Scripture, chosen for their\nbearing on the subject. Beautifully Illuminated in Gold and Colours.\nPrice 6d.\n\n\n=POPULAR SERIES OF WALL TEXTS=,\n\nSuitable for Decorating Schoolrooms, Bedrooms, &c.\n\n=GOLDEN PRECEPTS.= A Series of Nine Floral Illuminated Texts. Size,\n6-1/4 x 8 inches. In Three Packets, price 1/6 each; or in Mounts, Gilt\nBevelled Edges, 3/-each Packet.\n\n=ECHOES FROM THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM.= A Series of Floral Illuminated\nTexts. Size, 8-1/4 x 6-1/2 inches. In One Packet, containing Three\nTexts, price 1/6; or in Mounts, Gilt Bevelled Edges, 3/-the set.\n\n=CHEERING WORDS FOR PILGRIMS TO THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM.= A Series of Six\nFloral Illuminated Texts. Size, 6-1/2 x 8-1/4 inches. In Two Packets,\neach containing Three Texts, price 1/6; and in Mounts, Gilt Bevelled\nEdges, 3/-.\n\n=LIGHTS FOR LIFE'S JOURNEY.= A Series of Texts, Designed in Colours.\nSize, 19 x 6 inches. Four in a Packet, price 2/-.\n\n\nMARCUS WARD & CO.'S\n\n=Newspaper Cuttings Scrap-Book.= A Ready Reference Receptacle for\nScraps, from our daily sources of knowledge, the Newspapers; with an\nAlphabetical Index, and Spaces for Marginal Notes.\n\n    \"When found, make a note of.\"--_Captain Cuttle._\n\nTHE NEWSPAPER CUTTINGS SCRAP-BOOK has been introduced by MARCUS WARD &\nCO. to supply a want equally felt in household, office, or\ncounting-house, as well as in the library of the literary man, or in\nthe chambers of the lawyer.\n\nThere are few readers of Newspapers who do not daily meet with\nparagraphs, notices, or advertisements, which they would gladly cut\nout and retain, but, not having any convenient means of preserving\nthem, they are passed over and lost; or, even if cut out, are so\ncarefully put away that they cannot be found when wanted for\nreference.\n\nBy the use of the NEWSPAPER CUTTINGS SCRAP-BOOK all such\ninconveniences are prevented, as the cuttings can be readily fixed in\norder, and, by means of the Index, may be referred to in a moment;\nthus forming a volume of permanent interest and usefulness.\n\nLIST OF SIZES, BINDINGS, AND PRICES.\n\n    +-----+----------------------------------------------+------+\n    | No. |        DESCRIPTION. |Pages | Size, in Inches |Price |\n    |-----+---------------------+------+-----------------+------+\n    |6020 | Fancy Cloth,        |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Lettered on Side    |  72  | 7-3/4 by 9-1/2  | 1/6  |\n    |6021 |    Do. do. do.      | 100  | 7-3/4 by 9-1/2  | 2/-  |\n    |6031 |    Do. do. do.      | 100  | 9-3/4 by 11-1/2 | 3/-  |\n    |6043 | Do. Extra Gilt,     |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Lettered on Side    | 120  | 7-1/2 by 9-1/2  | 2/6  |\n    |6044 |    Do. do. do.      | 120  | 8-1/2 by 10-1/2 | 3/6  |\n    |6015 |    Do. do. do.      | 120  | 9-1/2 by 11-3/4 | 4/-  |\n    |6017 |    Do. do. do.      |      |                 |      |\n    |     |  and in Colors,     |      |                 |      |\n    |     |  Inlaid             | 150  | 9-1/2 by 11-3/4 | 4/6  |\n    |6011 | Half Roan,          |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Lettered on Back,   | 200  | 9-1/2 by 11-3/4 | 5/-  |\n    |6008 | Half French Morocco,|      |                 |      |\n    |     | Lettered on Back,   |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Superior Quality    |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Paper               | 150  | 9-1/2 by 11-3/4 | 7/-  |\n    |6013 | Half Roan,          |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Lettered on Back,   |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Superior Quality    |      |                 |      |\n    |     | Paper               | 200  | 10 by 15        | 9/-  |\n    |-----+---------------------+------+-----------------+------+\n\n\nEDUCATIONAL WORKS.\n\nATLASES.\n\n_Adopted by the Board of National Education in Ireland._\n\nEDITED BY J. HARRIS STONE, B.A.\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S SIXPENNY ATLAS.\n\nLIST OF MAPS--Fully Coloured.\n\n    Eastern Hemisphere\n    Western Hemisphere\n    Europe\n    Asia\n    Africa and Arabia\n    United States & Canada\n    Canaan or Palestine\n    North America\n    South America\n    England and Wales\n    Scotland\n    Ireland\n    Australia & Tasmania\n    France\n    German Empire\n    Austrian Empire and Hungary\n    India or Hindustan\n    New Zealand\n\n_The largest Sixpenny Atlas ever offered._\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S SHILLING ATLAS.\n\nTwenty-four Maps, printed in Colours, in the best style.\n\nWITH GEOGRAPHICAL DEFINITIONS, DIAGRAMS OF THE GLOBES, &c.\n\nThis Atlas contains extra Maps and information, suitable for more\nadvanced pupils, is printed on strong paper, and bound in durable\ncloth cover.\n\nLIST OF MAPS.\n\n    Eastern Hemisphere\n    Western Hemisphere\n    Europe\n    England and Wales\n    Scotland\n    Ireland\n    France\n    German Empire\n    Austrian Empire and Hungary\n    Kingdom of Italy\n    Sweden, Norway, and Denmark\n    Switzerland\n    Spain and Portugal\n    Netherlands and Belgium\n    Russia in Europe\n    Turkey in Europe & Greece\n    Asia\n    India or Hindustan\n    Africa and Arabia\n    North America\n    South America\n    United States of America\n    Dominion of Canada\n    Australia and Tasmania\n    New Zealand\n    Canaan or Palestine\n\n_The largest Shilling Atlas ever offered to the Public._\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S HOME ATLAS.\n\nThirty Maps, printed in Colours,\n\nFrom New Plates, specially engraved, with all the latest information\nfrom the best authorities, and Index to upwards of 4000 places. Crown\n4to, Cloth, 2/-; Cloth Extra, 2/6.\n\nLIST OF MAPS.\n\n    Explanatory Map\n    Eastern Hemisphere\n    Western Hemisphere\n    Europe\n    Asia\n    Africa\n    North America\n    South America\n    Oceania\n    The British Islands\n    England and Wales\n    Scotland\n    Ireland\n    France\n    German Empire\n    Austrian Empire and Kingdom of Hungary\n    Kingdom of Italy\n    The Netherlands & Belgium\n    Sweden, Norway, and Denmark\n    Turkey in Europe & Greece\n    Russia in Europe\n    Switzerland\n    Spain and Portugal\n    Turkey in Asia, Syria, Persia, Afghanistan, &c.\n    India or Hindustan\n    The Dominion of Canada\n    United States of America\n    Australia and Tasmania\n    Central America and West Indies\n    New Zealand\n    Canaan or Palestine\n    Bible Maps\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S PORTABLE ATLAS.\n\nThirty Maps, printed in Colours, on one side only of Superfine Drawing\nPaper, with full Index.\n\nDemy Octavo, handsomely bound in Cloth--India Rubber binding, to open\nperfectly flat. 3/6.\n\nAdvantages of this Atlas over others at similar or higher prices:--\n\n1. Pictorial Illustrations of Geographical Terms.\n\n2. Diagrams to illustrate the use of the Globes.\n\n3. In the Maps of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the Sizes of the\nTowns by their Populations are distinguished by varied letterings.\n\n4. The Countries where French is spoken are shewn in one Map.\n\n5. The Countries where German or kindred languages are spoken are\nshewn in one Map.\n\n6. The whole of the Russian Empire depicted on one Plate.\n\n7. The whole of the Turkish Empire depicted on one Plate.\n\n8. Map of Overland Route--Mediterranean to the Indus--Asiatic Russia\n--Khiva--Kokand--Syria--Euphrates Valley--Koweyt Republic--\nPersia--Afghanistan--Biluchistan, &c. Illustrating the advance of the\nRussian Empire towards India.\n\n9. The British Isles in one Map.\n\n10. Several enlarged Maps of British Colonies.\n\n11. Special Biblical Maps, for Sunday Lessons.\n\n\nOPINIONS OF THE PRESS (MARCUS WARD'S ATLASES).\n\n\"The Sixpenny and Shilling Atlases are _marvels of cheapness_, and the\nHome and Portable Atlases, each containing thirty maps, with indexes\nto upwards of 4,000 places, are _very complete for ordinary\nuse_.\"--_Guardian, March 15th, 1876._\n\n\"These Maps are cheap, well engraved, and apparently on a level with\nthe most recent and accurate geographical information.\"--_Standard,\nMarch 22nd, 1876._\n\n\"The series of Atlases issued by the Messrs Marcus Ward & Co., of\nLondon and Belfast, merit attention. The maps are beautifully printed\nand neatly coloured; the coast-lines, rivers, and mountains are\nclearly shown, and the names are not too crowded.\"--_Public Opinion,\nApril 1st, 1876._\n\n\" ... Marvels of cheapness, and at the same time of comparative\nexcellence. They are all 'got up' with that artistic taste and\nneatness which generally characterise the publications of this\nfirm.\"--_Manchester Courier, March 22nd, 1876._\n\n\"Quite unique.... Admirably printed.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n\nWORKS ON DRAWING AND DESIGN.\n\n_=Plants: their Natural Growth and Ornamental= Treatment_. By F. E.\nHULME, F.L.S., F.S.A., of Marlborough College, Author of \"Plant Form.\"\nContaining 44 plates, printed in Colours from Drawings made by the\nAuthor, accompanied by a careful Treatise on the subject. Large\nimperial 4to, cloth extra, bevelled boards. Price 21/-.\n\n     \"The object of this very excellent work is to show the close\n     relationship that exists between botanical science and\n     ornamental art.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n_=Hulme's Freehand Ornament.=_ Sixty Examples, for the use of Drawing\nClasses. By F. E. HULME, F.L.S., F.S.A., Marlborough College. Imperial\n8vo. Price 5/-, or mounted millboard, cloth-bound edges, 10/-.\n\n     \"To the Student of Drawing this book is a mine of well-drawn\n     examples.... Cannot fail to be useful to the decorative\n     sculptor, the bookbinder, the manufacturer of textile fabrics\n     of every description....\"--_Art Journal._\n\n     _Both these Works have been adopted by H. M. Department of\n     Science and Art, for Copies and Prizes._\n\n_=Illuminating: a Practical Treatise on the Art.=_ By MARCUS WARD,\nIlluminator to the Queen. With 26 examples of the styles prevailing at\ndifferent periods, from the sixth century to the present time;\nChromographed in facsimile and in outline. Foolscap 4to, cloth extra,\nbevelled boards, gilt edges, 5/-, or, in Morocco extra, 10/6.\n\n     \"A very creditable and remarkably cheap little\n     book.\"--_Architect._\n\nAunt Charlotte's Histories for Young Children.\n\nProfusely Illustrated, Square Octavo, Cloth Extra, Bevelled Boards,\nGilt Edges. Price 6/-each.\n\n_=Stories of English History for the Little Ones.=_ By CHARLOTTE M.\nYONGE, Author of \"The Heir of Redclyffe,\" &c. In Fifty easy Chapters,\nwith a Frontispiece in Colours by H. S. Marks, A.R.A.; 50\nIllustrations, and an Illuminated Title-page. New Edition, with\nQuestions.\n\n     \"So simple that a child of the tenderest years will be\n     perfectly able to comprehend all that the writer wishes to\n     convey ... adorned with numerous illustrations ... the\n     title-page is a lovely piece of art in illuminated\n     printing.\"--_Edinburgh Courant._\n\n     \"An excellent and useful little gift-book.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n     \"Any boy or girl who fails to admire Miss Yonge's 'Stories of\n     English History' must, indeed, be hard to\n     please.\"--_Bookseller._\n\n_A Cheap Edition of MISS YONGE'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, for Schools, is\nnow ready; with 41 Engravings, and Questions, neatly bound in cloth.\nPrice 1/6._\n\n_=Stories of French History for the Little Ones.=_ In Forty-eight easy\nChapters, with a Frontispiece in Colours by H. STACY MARKS, A.R.A.\nTwelve Full-page Illustrations, and an Illuminated Title-page. New\nEdition, with Questions.\n\n     \"The stories are well and clearly written.\"--_Saturday Review._\n\n     \"Charmingly bound, printed, and illustrated.\"--_Manchester\n     Guardian._\n\n_=Stories of Bible History for the Little Ones.=_ Three Readings and One\nPicture for each Sunday in the Year, with an Illuminated Title-page\nand Frontispiece in Colours.\n\n     \"Illustrations numerous and well executed.\"--_Daily Telegraph._\n\n     \"Embraces the whole story from the creation to the ascension;\n     told as Miss Yonge knows so well how to tell it.\"--_Guardian._\n\n     \"Nicely illustrated, and got up in an attractive\n     style.\"--_Birmingham Gazette._\n\n_A Cheap Edition of STORIES OF BIBLE HISTORY, price 2/-, just\npublished._\n\n_=Stories of Greek History for the Little Ones.=_ In Forty-five easy\nChapters, with Frontispiece in Colours by WALTER CRANE, Illuminated\nTitle-page, and numerous Illustrations.\n\n_=Stories of Roman History for the Little Ones.=_ By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.\nIn Forty-six easy Chapters, with Frontispiece in Colours, Illuminated\nTitle-page, and numerous Illustrations. _Just Published._\n\n_=Stories of German History for the Little Ones.=_ By C. M. YONGE. With\nFrontispiece in Colours, Illuminated Title-page, and numerous\nIllustrations. _In the Press._\n\n\nCLASS-BOOK FOR CLASSICAL AND ART SCHOOLS.\n\n=The Mythology of Greece and Rome, with special reference to its use in\nArt.= From the German of O. Seemann. Edited by G. H. BIANCHI, B.A.,\nlate Scholar of S. Peter's College, Cambridge. 64 Illustrations, Crown\nOctavo, Cloth, 3/6.\n\n\nHANDBOOK FOR AGRICULTURAL STUDENTS AND FARMERS.\n\n=Animals of the Farm: their Structure and Physiology.= By JOHN F.\nHODGES, M.D., F.C.S., &c. Second Edition, revised by the Author.\nNumerous Illustrations. Small Octavo, Cloth, 2/6.\n\n\nVERE FOSTER'S DRAWING COPY-BOOKS.\n\n_With Instructions and Paper to Draw on._\n\nPOPULAR EDITION, 1d. SUPERIOR EDITION, 3d.\n\nIn a country where Mechanical, Architectural, and Decorative Skill is\nin so much demand, a knowledge of Drawing is essential alike to the\nArtizan, the Employer, and the Connoisseur. The success of Mr. VERE\nFOSTER'S _Writing_ Copy-Books suggested that a knowledge of Drawing\nmight be spread among all classes by a series of _Drawing_ Copy-Books\nby the best masters. It is believed that these books have already\ncalled forth much latent talent, and the advantage of a development of\nTaste and practical Artistic Knowledge cannot be overrated.\n\n    A--ELEMENTARY.\n    B--SIMPLE OBJECTS.\n    C--FAMILIAR OBJECTS. Two Books.\n    D--SIMPLE FLOWERS. Two Books.\n    E, G--FLOWERS. Three Books.\n    I--ORNAMENT. Four Books.\n    J--TREES. Three Books.\n    K--LANDSCAPE. Four Books.\n    M--MARINE. Four Books.\n    O--ANIMALS. Ten Books.\n    Q--HUMAN FIGURE. Four Books.\n    R--GEOMETRY. Three Books.\n    T--MECHANICAL. Six Books.\n    Z--BLANK BOOK.\n\n\nVERE FOSTER'S WATER-COLOUR DRAWING BOOKS.\n\n_With full Instructions in Painting._\n\n\nELEMENTARY BOOKS, 3d. ADVANCED BOOKS, 6d.\n\nThe object of this Publication is to place a knowledge of the higher\nbranches of Drawing, hitherto the accomplishment only of the few,\nwithin the reach of all. It comprises a series of Simple and Practical\nExamples, in the various departments of Painting, by eminent Artists,\ntogether with useful and practical hints for Sketching from Nature.\n\nThe prices place them within the reach of every one, and they are\nadapted either for Self-instruction or for study with the aid of a\nMaster.\n\n    SEPIA.--6 Nos., 3d. each.\n    LANDSCAPE.--6 Nos., 3d. each.\n    MARINE.--Advanced Lessons--4 Nos., 6d. each.\n    ANIMALS.--Advanced Lessons--4 Nos., 6d. each.\n    FLOWERS--1st Series.--6 Nos., 3d. each.\n    FLOWERS--2nd Series.--4 Nos., 6d. each.\n    ILLUMINATING.--4 Nos., 6d. each.\n\n\nVERE FOSTER'S WRITING COPY-BOOKS.\n\nPOPULAR EDITION, 1d. SUPERIOR EDITION. 2d. (No. 10, 3d.)\n\n_Quarto Edition (Fine Glazed Paper) of Nos. 4, 5, 6, 7, Sixpence\neach._\n\nThe distinguishing characteristics of this Series are as follows:--\n\n1. Combination in the greatest possible degree of legibility with\nrapidity. The formation of the Letters, and notably of _a_, _d_, _g_,\n_q_, are adapted to this end. 2. The Tailed Letters are of moderate\nlength. The up and down strokes are of nearly equal thickness, as\ncontradistinguished from the Engraver's style. 3. The writing of each\nword is continuous from end to end. 4. Exclusion of Large Hand as\nunfit for small fingers. 5. Systematically progressive arrangement of\nHead Lines. 6. Two Lines of Copy on a page. 7. Careful selection of\nProverbs and Aphorisms. 8. The same clear, simple style of Writing for\nboth sexes, _there being no good reason why girls should be taught a\ncramped, illegible hand_.\n\n\nLIST OF VERE FOSTER'S WRITING COPY-BOOKS.\n\n1. STROKES, EASY LETTERS, SHORT WORDS.--Traced Lines under each Copy,\nto be written over by the Pupil. ROUND HAND.\n\n1-1/2. LONG LETTERS, SHORT WORDS, FIGURES.--Sanctioned by the\nCommittee of Council as satisfying the requirements of the Second\nStandard, Revised Code, 1875. HALF TEXT.\n\n2. LONG LETTERS, SHORT WORDS, FIGURES,--Guide Lines to regulate the\nlength of Tailed Letters. SMALL ROUND HAND.\n\n2-1/2. WORDS OF FOUR, FIVE, OR SIX LETTERS, for Practice in forming\ndifferent difficult combinations. SMALL ROUND HAND.\n\n3. CAPITALS, SHORT WORDS, FIGURES.--Analysis of Capitals. Showing how\nthe stiff Printed Capitals become transformed into Running Hand.\nMEDIUM HAND.\n\n3-1/2. SENTENCES OF SHORT WORDS, spaced by Perpendicular Lines. This\nis the first book in which Sentences are introduced. SMALL ROUND HAND.\n\n4. SENTENCES, mostly composed of Short Words. The Perpendicular\nSpacing Lines are omitted in this and all succeeding numbers. MEDIUM\nHAND.\n\n4-1/2. SELECT QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKSPERE.--Principally Long Sentences.\nSuitable for preparing Pupils to write from Dictation. MEDIUM HAND.\n\n5, 6. SENTENCES.--Maxims, Morals, and Precepts, in progressively Small\nWriting; each Line a complete Sentence. SMALL HAND.\n\n5-1/2. SENTENCES, in Writing of Three Sizes, continuation of preceding\nBooks Nos. 3-1/2, 4-1/2, and 5. SMALL ROUND, MEDIUM, AND SMALL HANDS.\n\n6-1/2. SENTENCES, in Writing of Two Sizes, in continuation of Books\nNos. 6 and 7. SMALL HAND.\n\n7. SENTENCES AND CHRISTIAN NAMES.--A collection of over 200 of the\nChristian Names in most common use, affording scope for a great\nvariety of elegant Capitals. SMALL HAND.\n\n8. SENTENCES.--One Line on each Page. This Book is prepared for those\nwho prefer at this stage to have only one line on each page. SMALL\nHAND.\n\n9. SENTENCES.--Two Lines on each Page. Smaller Writing than in any of\nthe preceding books. Some prefer this as a Finishing Hand to Nos. 7\nand 8. SMALL HAND.\n\n10. PLAIN AND ORNAMENTAL LETTERING.--Single Letters, Words, and\nSentences. Alphabets in Thirty-three different Styles. The most\nperfect Collection yet published.\n\n11. EXERCISE BOOK.--Wide Ruling, with Margin, for Parsing, Dictation,\nComposition, or other Exercises.\n\n12. EXERCISE BOOK.--Narrow Ruling in Squares, for Arithmetic,\nBookkeeping, Geometry, and proportionate enlargements or reductions.\n\nHOME EXERCISE BOOK.--Same Ruling as No. 12 (but Octavo Size). Price\nOne Penny.\n\nCOPY-BOOK PROTECTOR AND BLOTTER.--Price One Penny. Keeping the Books\nfresh, neat, and clean.\n\n\nMARCUS WARD'S ROYAL ULSTER SERIES OF SELECTED STEEL PENS.\n\nThese Celebrated Pens have rounded points, are specially manufactured\nin highest finish from the finest Silver Steel, and are suited for the\nvarious requirements of the Public in all Styles of Writing. Sold by\nall Stationers, at the uniform price of 1s. per box.\n\n42. MARCUS WARD'S \"VERE FOSTER COPY-BOOK\" PEN.--For Pupils using the\nearlier numbers of the VERE FOSTER Copy-Books--Nos. 1, 1-1/2, 2, 2-1/2,\n3, 3-1/2, 4, 4-1/2, or for ordinary free writing (_Round Hand and\nMedium Hand_). ONE HUNDRED PENS IN A BOX.\n\n41. MARCUS WARD'S \"VERE FOSTER COPY-BOOK\" PEN.--Adapted for the more\nadvanced numbers of the VERE FOSTER Copy-Books--Nos. 5, 5-1/2, 6,\n6-1/2, 7, 8, and 9, and for ordinary neat writing (_Small Hand_). ONE\nHUNDRED PENS IN A BOX.\n\n51. MARCUS WARD'S \"COLLEGE\" PEN--_Fine Points_.--A strong, useful Pen\nfor high-class School or College use, suited for the more rapid\nwriting of Advanced Pupils and Students, and for ordinary\nCorrespondence. SIX DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n52. MARCUS WARD'S \"COLLEGE\" PEN--_Medium Points_.-Similar to No. 51,\nbut with broader Points. Suitable also for Professional or Official\nCorrespondence, and for bold, rapid writing. SIX DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n64. MARCUS WARD'S \"BLACK LETTER\" PEN--_Extra Broad Points_.--A\npeculiar pen, specially made for VERE FOSTER'S No. 10 Copy-Book.\nAdapted for _down strokes_ of German Text, Old English, Black Letter,\nand Engrossing. Will also be found useful by the numerous class of\npersons who prefer to use a very broad-pointed pen in ordinary writing\non rough paper. THREE DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n70. MARCUS WARD'S \"ITALIAN\" PEN--_Extra Fine Points_.--Specially made\nfor the Ornamental Writing in VERE FOSTER'S No. 10 Copy-Book, or for\nthe use of persons who prefer a _very fine-pointed_ pen in writing on\nhighly-glazed paper. THREE DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n81. MARCUS WARD'S \"ROYAL ULSTER\" PEN--_Fine Points_.--A splendid pen\nfor Mercantile use, either in Account Books, for Correspondence, or\nfor other purposes. Made of thick but very Elastic Steel, with the\nhighest finish. _Much recommended for Flexibility, Strength, and\nDurability._ THREE DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n91. MARCUS WARD'S \"ROYAL PALACE\" PEN--_Fine Points_.--Slightly\nturned-up points. Persons who prefer quill pens will find this the\n_Softest_ Steel Pen made. These pens are suitable for the modern style\nof large and bold writing, and are peculiarly adapted for writing on\nthe Irish Linen Papers. THREE DOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\n92. MARCUS WARD'S \"ROYAL PALACE\" PEN--_Medium Points_.--Similar to No.\n91, with broader turned-up points, for very bold and rapid writing on\nthe Royal Irish Linen or other rough-surfaced writing papers. THREE\nDOZEN PENS IN A BOX.\n\nSamples will be forwarded on receipt of Six Penny Stamps.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n\nInconsistent and archaic spelling, punctuation, and syntax retained.","title":"Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and Hobgoblins","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":75799}