'"A pretty cottage 'tis indeed,"Said Rosalind to Fanny,"But yet it seems a little strange,I trust there's naught uncanny."'The Wood-Fairies.
'"A pretty cottage 'tis indeed,"Said Rosalind to Fanny,"But yet it seems a little strange,I trust there's naught uncanny."'
The Wood-Fairies.
Rollo pushed a little more, and still a little. No sound was heard—no voice demanded what they wanted; they gathered courage, till at last the door stood sufficiently ajar for them to see inside. It was a neat, plain, exceedingly clean, little kitchen which stood revealed to their view. Rollo and Maia, with another glance around them, another instant's hesitation, stepped in.
The floor was only sanded, the furniture was of plain unvarnished deal, yet there was something indescribably dainty and attractive about the room. There was no fire burning in the hearth, but all was ready laid for lighting it, and on the table, covered with a perfectly clean, though coarse cloth, plates and cups for a meal were set out. It seemed to be for three people. A loaf of brownish bread, and a jug filled with milk, were the only provisions to be seen. Maia stepped forward softly and looked longingly at the milk.
'Do you think it would be wrong to take some, Rollo?' she said. 'Iamso thirsty, and they must be nice people that live here, it looks so neat.' But just then, catching sight of the three chairs drawn round the table, as well as of the three cups and three plates upon it, she drew back with a little scream. 'Rollo,' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, half with fear, half with excitement, 'I do believe we've got into the cottage ofthe three bears.'
Rollo burst out laughing, though, to tell the truth, he was not quite sure if his sister was in fun or earnest.
'Nonsense, Maia!' he said. 'Why, that was hundreds of years ago. You don't suppose the bears have gone on living ever since, do you? Besides, it wouldn't do at all. See, there are two smaller chairs and one arm-chair here. Two small cups and one big one. It's just the wrong way for the bears. It must be two children and one big person that live here.'
Maia seemed somewhat reassured.
'Do you think I may take a drink of milk, then?' she said. 'I amsothirsty.'
'I should think you might,' said Rollo. 'You see we can come back and pay for it another day when they're at home. If we had any money we might leave it here on the table, to show we're honest. But we haven't any.'
'No,' said Maia, as she poured out some milk, taking care not to spill any on the tablecloth, 'not a farthing. Oh, Rollo,' she continued, 'suchdelicious milk! Won't you have some?'
'No; I'm not thirsty,' he replied. 'See, Maia, there's another little kitchen out of this—for washing dishes in—a sort of scullery,' for he had opened another door as he spoke.
'And, oh, Rollo,' said Maia, peering about, 'see, there's a little stair. Oh,dolet's go up.'
It seemed a case of 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' Having made themselves so much at home, the children felt inclined to go a little farther. They had soon climbed the tiny staircase and were rewarded for their labour by finding two little bed-rooms, furnished just alike, and though neat and exquisitely clean, as plain and simple as the kitchen.
'Really, Rollo,' said Maia, 'this house might have been built by the fairies for us two, and see, isn't it odd? the beds are quite small, like ours. I don't know where the big person sleeps whom the arm-chair and the big cup downstairs are for.'
'Perhaps there's another room,' said Rollo, but after hunting about they found there was nothing more, and they came downstairs again to the kitchen, more puzzled than ever as to whom the queer little house could belong to.
'We'll come back again, the very first day we can,' said Maia, 'and tell the people about having taken the milk,' and then they left the cottage, carefully closing the door and gate behind them, and made their way back to where they had left Nanni. It took them longer than they had expected—either they mistook their way, or had wandered farther than they had imagined. But Nanni had suffered no anxiety on their account, for, even before they got up to her, they saw that she was enjoying a peaceful slumber.
'Poor thing!' said Maia. 'She must be very tired. I never knew her so sleepy before. Wake up, Nanni, wake up,' she went on, touching the maid gently on the shoulder. Up jumped Nanni, rubbing her eyes, but looking nevertheless very awake and good-humoured.
'Such a beautiful sleep as I've had, to be sure,' she exclaimed.
'Then you haven't been wondering what had become of us?' said Rollo.
'Bless you, no, sir,' replied Nanni. 'You haven't been very long away, surely? I never did have such a beautiful sleep. There must be something in the air of this forest that makes one sleep. And such lovely dreams! I thought I saw a lady all dressed in green—dark green and light green,—for all the world like the fir-trees in spring, and with long light hair. She stooped over me and smiled, as if she was going to say something, but just then I awoke and saw Miss Maia.'
'And what do you thinkwe'veseen?' said Maia. 'The dearest little cottage you can fancy. Just like what Rollo and I would like to live in all by ourselves. And there was nobody there; wasn't it queer, Nanni?'
Nanni was much impressed, but when she had heard all about the children's adventure she grew a little frightened.
'I hope no harm will come of it,' she said. 'If it were a witch's cottage;' and she shivered.
'Nonsense, Nanni,' said Rollo; 'witches don't have cottages like that,—all so bright and clean, and delicious new milk to drink.'
But Nanni was not so easily consoled. 'I hope no harm may come of it,' she repeated.
By the lengthening shadows they saw that the afternoon was advancing, and that, if they did not want to be late for dinner, they must make the best of their way home.
'It would not do to be late to-day—the first time they have let us come out by ourselves,' said Maia sagely. 'If we are back in very good time perhaps Lady Venelda will soon let us come again.'
Theywereback in very good time, and went down to the dining-hall, looking very fresh and neat, as their cousin entered it followed by her ladies.
'That is right,' said Lady Venelda graciously.
'You look all the better for your walk, my little friends,' said the old doctor. 'Come, tell us what you think of our forests, now you have seen the inside of them.'
'They are lovely,' said both children enthusiastically. 'I should like tolivethere,' Maia went on; 'and, oh, cousin, we saw the dearest little cottage,soneat and pretty! I wonder who lives there.'
'You went to the village, then,' Lady Venelda replied. 'I did not think you would go in that direction.'
'No,' said Rollo, 'we did not go near any village. It was a cottage quite alone, over that way,' and he pointed in the direction he meant.
Lady Venelda looked surprised and a little annoyed.
'I know of no cottage by itself. I know of no cottages, save those in my own village. You must have been mistaken.'
'Oh, no, indeed,' said Maia, 'we could not be mistaken, for we——'
'Young people should not contradict their elders,' said Lady Venelda freezingly, and poor Maia dared say no more. She was very thankful when the old doctor came to the rescue.
'Perhaps,' he said good-naturedly, 'perhaps our young friends sat down in the forest and had a little nap, in which theydreamtof this mysterious cottage. You are aware, my lady, that the aromatic odours of our delightful woods are said to have this tendency.'
Rollo and Maia looked at each other. 'That's true,' the look seemed to say, for the old doctor's words made them think of Nanni's beautiful dream. Not thattheyhad been asleep, oh, no, that was impossible.
Everything about the cottage had been so real and natural. And besides, as Maia said afterwards to Rollo, 'People don't dreamtogetherof exactly the same things at exactly the same moment, as if they were reading a story-book,' with which Rollo of course agreed.
Still, at the time, they were not sorry that their cousin took up the doctor's idea, for she had seemed so very vexed before he suggested it.
'To be sure,' she replied graciously; 'that explains it. I have often heard of that quality of our wonderful woods. No doubt—tired as they were too—the children fell asleep without knowing it. Just so; but young people must never contradict their elders.'
The children dared not say any more, and, indeed, just then it would have been no use.
'She would not have believed anything we said about it,' said Maia as they went upstairs to their own rooms. 'But it isn't nice not to be allowed to tell anything like that.Fatheralways believes us.'
'Yes,' said Rollo thoughtfully. 'I don't quite understand why Lady Venelda should have taken us up so about it. I don't much like going back to the cottage without leave—at least without telling her about it, and yet wemustgo. It would be such a shame not to pay for the milk.'
'Yes,' said Maia, 'and they might think there had beenrobbersthere while they were out. Oh, we must go back!'
But their perplexities were not decreased by what Nanni had to say to them.
'Oh, Master Rollo and Miss Maia!' she exclaimed, 'we should beverythankful that no harm came to you this afternoon. I've been speaking to them in the kitchen about where you were, and, oh, but it must be an uncanny place! No one knows who lives there, though 'tis said about 'tis a witch. And the queer thing is, that 'tis but very few that have ever seen the cottage at all. Some have seen it and told the others about it, and when they've gone to look, no cottage could they find. Lady Venelda's own maid is one of those who was determined to find it, but she never could. And my Lady herself was so put out about it that she set off to look for it one day,—for no one has a right to live in the woods just hereabout without her leave,—and she meant to turn the people, whoever they were, about their business. But 'twas all for no use. She sought far and wide; ne'er a cottage could she find, and she wandered about the woods near a whole day for no use. Since then she is that touchy about it that, if any one dares but to mention a cottage hereabouts, save those in the village, it quite upsets her.'
Rollo and Maia looked at each other, but something made them feel it was better to say little before Nanni.
'So I do beg you never to speak about the cottage to my Lady,' Nanni wound up.
'We don't want to speak about it to her,' said Rollo drily.
'And you won't want to go there again, I do hope,' the maid persisted. 'Whatever would I do if the witch got hold of you and turned you perhaps into blue birds or green frogs, or something dreadful? Whateverwouldyour dear papa say to me? Oh, Miss Maia, do tell Master Rollo never to go there again.'
'Don't be afraid,' said Maia; 'we'll take care of ourselves. I can quite promise you we won't be turned into frogs or birds. But don't talk any more about it to-night, Nanni. I'msosleepy, and I don't want to dream of horrible witches.'
And this was all the satisfaction Nanni could get.
But the next morning Rollo and Maia had a grand consultation together. They did not like the idea of not going to the cottage again, for they felt it would not be right not to explain about the milk, and they had besides a motive, which Nanni's strange story had no way lessened—that of great curiosity.
'It would be a shame not to pay for the milk,' said Rollo. 'I should feel uncomfortable whenever I thought of it.'
'So should I,' said Maia; 'even more than you, for it was I that drank it! And I dosowant to find out who lives there. Theremustbe children, I am sure, because of the little beds and chairs and cups, and everything.'
'If they are all for children, I don't know what there is for big people,' said Rollo. 'Perhaps they're some kind of dwarfs that live there.'
'Oh, what fun!' said Maia, clapping her hands. 'Oh, wemustgo back to find out!'
She started, for just as she said the words a voice behind them was heard to say, 'Go back; go back where, my children?'
They were walking up and down the terrace on one side of the castle, where Mademoiselle Delphine had sent them for a little fresh air between their lessons, and they were so engrossed by what they were talking of that they had not heard nor seen the old doctor approaching them. It was his voice that made Maia start. Both children looked rather frightened when they saw who it was, and that he had overheard what they were saying.
'Go back where?' he repeated. 'What are you talking about?'
The children still hesitated.
'We don't like to tell you, sir,' said Rollo frankly. 'You would say it was only fancy, as you did last night, and weknowit wasn't fancy.'
'Oh, about the cottage?' said the old doctor coolly. 'You needn't be afraid to tell me about it, fancy or no fancy. Fancy isn't a bad thing sometimes.'
'But itwasn'tfancy,' said both together; 'only we don't like to talk about it for fear of vexing our cousin, and we don't like to go back there without leave, and yet weshouldgo back.'
'Why should you?' asked their old friend.
Then Maia explained about the milk, adding, too, the strange things that Nanni had heard in the servants' hall. The old doctor listened attentively. His face looked quite pleased and good-humoured, and yet they saw he was not at all inclined to laugh at them. When they had finished, to the children's surprise he said nothing, but drew out a letter from his pocket.
'Do you know this writing?' he said.
Rollo and Maia exclaimed eagerly, 'Oh, yes; it is our father's. Do you know him? Do you know our father, Mr. Doctor?'
'I have known him,' said the old man, quietly drawing the contents out of the cover, 'I have known him since he was much smaller than either of you is now. It was by my advice he sent you here for a time, and see what he gave me for you.'
He held up as he spoke a small folded paper, which had been inside the other letter. It bore the words: 'For Rollo and Maia—to be given them when you think well.' 'I think well now,' he went on, 'so read what he says, my children.'
They quickly opened the paper. There was not much written inside—just a few words:
'Dear children,' they were, 'if you are in any difficulty, ask the advice of my dear old friend and adviser, the doctor, and you may be sure you will do what will please your father.'
For a moment or two the children were almost too surprised to speak. It was Rollo who found his voice first.
'Give us your advice now, Mr. Doctor. May we go back to the cottage without saying any more about it to Lady Venelda?'
'Yes,' said the old doctor. 'You may go anywhere you like in the woods. No harm will come to you. It is no use your saying any more about the cottage to Lady Venelda. She cannot understand it because she cannot find it. If you can find it you will learn no harm there, and your father would be quite pleased for you to go.'
'Then do you think we may go soon again?' asked the children eagerly.
'You will always have a holiday once a week,' said the doctor. 'It would not be good for you to gotoooften. Work cheerfully and well when you are at work, my children. I will see that you have your play.'
'Neat, like bees, as sweet and busy,· · · · · ·Aired and set to rights the house;Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat—Cakes for dainty mouths to eat.'Goblin Market.
'Neat, like bees, as sweet and busy,· · · · · ·Aired and set to rights the house;Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat—Cakes for dainty mouths to eat.'
Goblin Market.
The next few days passed rather slowly for the children. There was no talk of another expedition to the woods. And they had a good many lessons to do, so that short walks in the grounds close round the castle were all they had time for. They only saw the old doctor at meal-times, but he always smiled at them, as if to assure them he was not forgetting them, and to encourage them to patience.
There was one person who certainly did not regret the children's not returning to the woods, and that person was Nanni. What she had heard from the servants about the mysterious cottage had thoroughly frightened her; she felt sure that if they went there again something dreadful would happen to them, and yet she was so devoted to them that, however terrified, she would never have thought of not following them wherever they chose to go. But, as day after day went by, and no more was said about it, she began to breathe freely. Her distress was therefore the greater when, one afternoon just six days after the last ramble, Rollo and Maia rushed upstairs after their lessons in the wildest spirits.
'Hurrah for the doctor!' shouted Rollo, and Maia was on the point of joining him, till she remembered that if they made such a noise Lady Venelda would be sending up to know what was the matter.
'We're to have a whole holiday to-morrow, Nanni,' they explained, 'and we're going to spend it in the woods. You're to come with us, and carry something in a basket for us to eat.'
'Very well, Miss Maia,' replied Nanni, prudently refraining from mentioning the cottage, in hopes that they had forgotten about it, 'that will be very nice, especially if it is a fine day, but if not, of course you would not go.'
'I don't know that,' said Rollo mischievously; 'green frogs don't mind rain.'
'Nor blue birds,' added Maia. 'They could fly away if they did.'
At these fateful words poor Nanni grew deadly pale. 'Oh, my children,' she cried; 'oh, Master Rollo and Miss Maia, don't, I beg of you, joke about such things. And oh, I entreat you, don't go looking for that witch's cottage. Unless you promise me you won't, I shall have to go and tell my Lady, however angry she is!'
'No such thing, my good girl,' said a voice at the door. 'You needn't trouble your head about such nonsense. Rollo and Maia will go nowhere where they can get any harm. I know everything about the woods better than you or those silly servants downstairs. Lady Venelda would only tell you not to interfere with what didn't concern you if you went saying anything to her. Go off to the woods with your little master and mistress without misgiving, my good girl, and if the air makes you sleepy don't be afraid to take a nap. No harm will come to you or the children.'
Nanni stood still in astonishment—the tears in her eyes and her mouth wide open, staring at the old doctor, for it was he, of course, who had followed the children upstairs and overheard her remonstrances. She looked so comical that Rollo and Maia could scarcely help laughing at her, as at last she found voice to speak.
'Of course if the learned doctor approves I have nothing to say,' she said submissively; though she could not help adding, 'and I only hope no harm will come of it.'
Rollo and Maia flew to the doctor.
'Oh, that's right!' they exclaimed. 'We are so glad you have spoken to that stupid Nanni. She believes all the rubbish the servants here speak.'
The doctor turned to Nanni again.
'Don't be afraid,' he repeated. 'All will be right, you will see. But take my advice, do not say anything to the servants here about the amusements of your little master and mistress. Least said soonest mended. It would annoy Lady Venelda for it to be supposed they were allowed to go where any harm could befall them.'
'Very well, sir,' replied Nanni, meekly enough, though she still looked rather depressed. She could not help remembering that before he left, old Marc, too, had warned her against too much chattering.
The next morning broke fine and bright. The children started in the greatest spirits, which even Nanni, laden with a basket of provisions for their dinner, could not altogether resist. And before they went, Lady Venelda called them into her boudoir, and kissing them, wished them a happy holiday.
'It's all that nice old doctor,' said Maia. 'You see, Rollo, she hasn't told us not to go to the cottage—he's put it all right, I'm sure.'
'Yes, I expect so,' Rollo agreed; and then in a minute or two he added: 'Do you know, Maia, though of course I don't believe in witches turning people into green frogs, or any of that nonsense, I do think there'ssomethingfunny about that cottage.'
'What sort of something? What do you mean?' asked Maia, looking intensely interested. 'Do you mean something to do with fairies?'
'I don't know—I'm not sure. But we'll see,' said Rollo.
'If we can find it!' said Maia.
'I'msurewe shall find it. It's just because of that that I think there's something queer. It must be true that some people can't find it.'
'Naughty people?' asked Maia apprehensively. 'For you know, Rollo, we're not alwaysquitegood.'
'No, I don't mean naughty people. I mean more people who don't care about fairies and wood-spirits, and things like that—people who call all that nonsense and rubbish.'
'I see,' said Maia; 'perhaps you're right, Rollo. Well, any way, that won't stopusfinding it, for we certainly do caredreadfullyabout fairy things, don't we, Rollo? But what about Nanni?' she went on, for Nanni was some steps behind, and had not heard what they were saying.
'Oh, as to Nanni,' said Rollo coolly, 'I shouldn't wonder if she took a nap again, as the old doctor said. Any way, she can't interfere with us afterhisgiving us leave to go wherever we liked.'
They stopped a little to give Nanni time to come up to them, and Rollo offered to help her to carry the basket. It was not heavy, she replied, she could carry it quite well alone, but she still looked rather depressed in spirits, so the children walked beside her, talking merrily of the dinner in the woods they were going to have, so that by degrees Nanni forgot her fears of the mysterious cottage, and thought no more about it.
It was even a more beautiful day than the one, now nearly a week ago, on which they had first visited the woods. There was more sunshine to-day, and the season was every day farther advancing; the lovely little new green tips were beginning to peep out among the darker green which had already stood the wear and tear of a bitter winter and many a frosty blast.
'How pretty the fir-trees look!' said Maia. 'They don't seem the least dim or gloomy in the sunshine, even though it only gets to them in little bits. See there, Rollo,' she exclaimed, pointing to one which got more than its share of the capricious gilding. 'Doesn't it look like arealChristmas-tree?'
'Like a lighted-up one, you mean,' said Rollo. 'It would be a very nice Christmas-tree for a family of giants, and if I could climb up so high, I'd be just about the right size for the angel at the top. Let's spread our table at the foot of this tree—it looks so nice and dry. I'm sure, Nanni,' he went on, 'you'll be glad to get rid of your basket.'
'It's not heavy, Master Rollo,' said Nanni; 'but, all the same, itisqueer how the minute I get into these woods I begin to be so sleepy—you'd hardly believe it.'
Rollo and Maia looked at each other with a smile, but they said nothing.
'We'd better have our dinner any way,' observed Rollo, kneeling down to unfasten the basket, of which the contents proved very good indeed.
'What fun it is, isn't it?' said Maia, when they had eaten nearly as much cold chicken and bread, and cakes and fruit as they wanted. 'What fun it is to be able to do just as we like, and say just what we like, instead of having to sit straight up in our chairs like two dolls, and only speak when we're spoken to, and all that—how nice it would be if we could have our dinner in the woods every day!'
'We'd get tired of it after a while, I expect,' said Rollo. 'It wouldn't be nice in cold weather, or if it rained.'
'Iwouldn't mind,' said Maia. 'I'd build a warm little hut and cover it over with moss. We'd live like the squirrels.'
'How do you know how the squirrels live?' said Rollo.
But Maia did not answer him. Her ideas by this time were off on another flight—the thought of a little hut had reminded her of the cottage.
'I want to go farther into the wood,' she said, jumping up. 'Come, Rollo, let's go and explore a little. Nanni, you can stay here and pack up the basket again, can't you?'
'Then you won't be long, Miss Maia,' began Nanni, rather dolefully. 'You won't——'
'We won't get turned into green frogs, if that's what you're thinking of, Nanni,' interrupted Rollo. 'Do remember what the old doctor said, and don't worry yourself. We shall come to no harm. And as you're so sleepy, why shouldn't you take a nap as you did the other day? Perhaps you'll dream of the beautiful lady again.'
Nanni looked but half convinced.
'It's notmyfault, any way,' she said. 'I've done all I could. I may as well stay here, for I know you like better to wander about by yourselves. But I'm not going to sleep—you needn't laugh, Master Rollo, I've brought my knitting with me on purpose,' and she drew out a half stocking and ball of worsted with great satisfaction.
The children set off. They were not sure in what direction lay the cottage, for they had got confused in their directions, but they had a vague idea that by continuing upwards, for they were still on sloping ground, they would come to the level space where they had seen the smoke of the burning leaves. They were not mistaken, for they had walked but a very few minutes when the ground ceased to ascend, and looking round they felt sure that they recognised the look of the trees near the cottage.
'This way, Rollo, I am sure,' said Maia, darting forward. She was right—in another moment they came out of the woods just at the side of the cottage. It looked just the same as before, except that no fire was burning outside, and instead, a thin column of smoke rose gently from the little chimney. The gate of the little garden was also open, as if inviting them to enter.
'They must be at home, whoever they are,' said Rollo. 'There is a fire in the kitchen, you see, Maia.'
Maia grew rather pale. Now that they were actually on the spot, she began to feel afraid, though of what she scarcely knew. Nanni's queer hints came back to her mind, and she caught hold of Rollo's arm, trembling.
'Oh, Rollo,' she exclaimed, 'suppose it's true? About the witch, I mean—or suppose they have found out about the milk and are very angry?'
'Well, we can't help it if they are,' replied Rollo sturdily. 'We've done the best thing we could in coming back to pay for it. You've got the little purse, Maia?'
'Oh, yes, it's safe in my pocket,' she said. 'But——'
She stopped, for just at that moment the door of the cottage opened and a figure came forward. It was no 'old witch,' no ogre or goblin, but a young girl—a little older than Maia she seemed—who stood there with a sweet, though rather grave expression on her face and in her soft dark eyes, as she said gently, 'Welcome—we have been expecting you.'
'Expecting us?' exclaimed Maia, who generally found her voice more quickly than Rollo; 'how can you have been expecting us?'
She had stepped forward a step or two before her brother, and now stood looking up in the girl's face with wonder in her bright blue eyes, while she tossed back the long fair curls that fell round her head. Boys are not very observant, but Rollo could not help noticing the pretty picture the two made. The peasant maiden with her dark plaits and brown complexion, dressed in a short red skirt, and little loose white bodice fastened round the waist with a leather belt, and Maia with a rather primly-cut frock and frilled tippet of flowered chintz, such as children then often wore, and large flapping shady hat.
'How can you have been expecting us?' Maia repeated.
Rollo came forward in great curiosity to hear the answer.
The girl smiled.
'Ah!' she said, 'there are more ways than one of knowing many things that are to come. Waldo heard you had arrived at the white castle, and my godmother had already told us of you. Then we found the milk gone, and——'
Rollo interrupted this time. 'We were so vexed,' he said, 'not to be able to explain about it. We have wanted to come every day since to——' 'To pay for it,' he was going to say, but something in the girl's face made him hesitate.
'Not to pay for it,' she said quickly, though smiling again, as if she read his words in his face; 'don't say that. We were so glad it was there for you. Besides, it is not ours—Waldo and I would have nothing but for our godmother. But come in—come in—Waldo is only gone to fetch some brushwood, and our godmother, too, will be here soon.'
Too surprised to ask questions—indeed, there seemed so many to ask that they would not have known where to begin—Rollo and Maia followed the girl into the little kitchen. It looked just as neat and dainty as the other day—and brighter too, for a charming little fire was burning in the grate, and a pleasant smell of freshly-roasted coffee was faintly perceived. The table was set out as before, but with the addition of a plate of crisp-looking little cakes or biscuits, and in place oftwosmall cups and saucers there werefour, as well as the larger one the children had seen before. This was too much for Maia to behold in silence. She stopped short, and stared in still greater amazement.
'Why!' she exclaimed. 'You don't mean to say—why, just fancy, I don't even know your name.'
'Silva,' replied the girl quietly, but with an amused little smile on her face.
'Silva,' continued Maia, 'youdon'tmean to say that you've put out those two cups forus—that you knew we'd come.'
'Godmother did,' said Silva. 'She told us yesterday. So we've been very busy to get all our work done, and have a nice holiday afternoon. Waldo has nothing more to do after he's brought in the wood, and I baked those little cakes this morning and roasted the coffee. Godmother told us to have it ready early, so that there'll be plenty of time before you have to go. Oh, here's Waldo!' she exclaimed joyfully.
Rollo and Maia turned round. There, in the doorway stood a boy, his cap in his hand, a pleasant smile on his bright ruddy face.
'Welcome, my friends,' he said, with a kind of gravity despite his smile.
He was such a nice-looking boy—just about as much bigger than Rollo as Silva was bigger than Maia. You could have told at once that they were brother and sister—there was the same bright and yet serious expression in their eyes; the same healthy, ruddy complexion; the same erect carriage and careless grace in Waldo in his forester's clothes as in Silva with her pretty though simple peasant maiden dress. They looked what they were, true children of the beautiful woods.
'Thank you,' said Rollo and Maia, after a moment's hesitation. They did not know what else to say. Silva glanced at them. She seemed to have a curious power of reading in their faces the thoughts that were passing in their minds.
'Don't think it strange,' she said quickly, 'that Waldo calls you thus "my friends," and that we both speak to you as if we had known you for long. We know we are not the same as you—in the world, I mean, we could not be as we are here with you, but this is not the world,' and here she smiled again—the strange, bright, and yet somehow rather sad smile which made her face so sweet—'and so we need not think about it. Godmother said it was best only to remember that we are just four children together, and when you see her you will feel that what she says is always best.'
'We don't need to see her to feel that we like you to call us your friends,' exclaimed Rollo and Maia together. The words came from their hearts, and yet somehow they felt surprised at being able to say them so readily. Rollo held out his hand to Waldo, who shook it heartily, and little Maia going close up to Silva said softly, 'Kiss me, please, dear Silva.'
And thus the friendship was begun.
The first effect of this seemed to be the setting loose of Maia's tongue.
'There are so many things I want to ask you,' she began. 'May I? Do you and Waldo live here alone, and have you always lived here? And does your godmother live here, for the other day when we went all over the cottage we only saw two little beds, and two little of everything, except the big chair and the big cup and saucer. And what——'
Here Rollo interrupted her.
'Maia,' he said, 'you really shouldn't talk so fast. Silva could not answer all those questions at once if she wanted; and perhaps she doesn't want to answer them all. It's rude to ask so much.'
Maia looked up innocently into Silva's face.
'I didn't mean to be rude,' she said, 'only you see I can't help wondering.'
'We don't mind your asking anything you like,' Silva replied. 'But I don't think Icantell you all you want to know. You'll get to see for yourself. Waldo and I have lived here a long time, but notalways!'
'But your godmother,' went on Maia; 'I do so want to know about her. Doesshelive here? Is it she that the people about call a witch?' Maia lowered her voice a little at the last word, and looked up at Rollo apprehensively. Would not he think speaking of witches still ruder than asking questions? But Silva did not seem to mind.
'I dare say they do,' she said quietly. 'They don't know her, you see. I don't think she would care if they did call her a witch. But now the coffee is ready,' for she had been going on with her preparations meanwhile, 'will you sit round the table?'
'We are not very hungry,' said Rollo, 'for we had our dinner in the wood. But the coffee smells so good,' and he drew in his chair as he spoke. Maia, however, hesitated.
'Would it not be more polite, perhaps,' she said to Silva, 'to wait a little for your godmother? You said she would be coming soon.'
'She doesn't like us to wait for her,' said Silva. 'We always put her place ready, for sometimes she comes and sometimes she doesn't—we never know. But she says it is best just to go on regularly, and then we need not lose any time.'
'I don't think I should like that way,' said Maia. 'Would you, Rollo? If father was coming to see us, I would like to know it quite settledly ever so long before, and plan all about it.'
'But it isn't quite the same,' said Silva. 'Your father is far away. Our godmother is never very far away—it is just a nice feeling that she may come any time, like the sunshine or the wind.'
'Well, perhaps it is,' said Maia. 'I dare say I shall understand when I've seen her. How very good this coffee is, Silva, and the little cakes! Did your godmother teach you to make them so nice?'
'Not exactly,' said Silva; 'but she made me like doing things well. She made me see how pretty it is to do things rightly—quiterightly, just as they should be.'
'And do you always do things that way?' exclaimed Maia, very much impressed. 'Idon't; I'm very often dreadfully untidy, and sometimes my exercise-books are full of blots and mistakes. I wish I had had your godmother to teach me, Silva.'
'Well, you're going to have her now. She teaches without one knowing it. ButI'mnot perfect, nor is Waldo! Indeed we're not—and if we thought we were it would show we weren't.'
'Besides,' said Waldo, 'all the things we have to do are very simple and easy. We don't know anything about the world, and all we should have to do and learn if we lived there.'
'Should you like to live there?' asked Maia. Both Waldo and Silva hesitated. Then both, with the grave expression in their eyes that came there sometimes, replied, 'I don't know;' but Waldo in a moment or two added, 'If it had to be, it would be right to like it.'
'Yes,' said Silva quietly. But something in their tone made both Rollo and Maia feel puzzled.
'I do believe you're both half fairies,' exclaimed Maia with a little impatience; 'I can't make you out at all.'
Rollo felt the same, though, being more considerate than his little sister, he did not like to express his feelings so freely. But Waldo and Silva only laughed merrily.
'No, no, indeed we're not,' they said more than once, but Maia did not seem convinced by any means, and she was going on to maintain that no children whoweren'thalf fairies could live like that by themselves and manage everything so beautifully, when a slight noise at the door and a sudden look of pleasure on Silva's face made her stop short and look round.
'Here she is,' exclaimed Waldo and Silva together. 'Oh, godmother, darling, we are so glad. And they have come, Rollo and Maia have come, just as you said.'
And thus saying they sprang forward. Their godmother stooped and kissed both on the forehead.
'Dear children,' she said, and then she turned to the two strangers, who were gazing at her with all their eyes.
'Canit be she the silly people about call a witch?' Maia was saying to herself. 'Itmightbe, and yet I don't know.Couldany one call her a witch?'
She was old—of that there was no doubt, at least so it seemed at the first glance. Her hair was perfectly white, her face was very pale. But her eyes were the most wonderful thing about her. Maia could not tell what colour they were. They seemed to change with every word she said, with every new look that came over her face. Old as she was they were very bright and beautiful, very soft and sweet too, though not the sort of eyes—Maia said afterwards to Rollo—'that I would like to look at me if I had been naughty.' Godmother was not tall; when she first came into the little kitchen she seemed to stoop a little, and did not look much bigger than Silva. And she was all covered over with a dark green cloak, almost the colour of the darkest of the foliage of the fir-trees.
'One would hardly see her if she were walking about the woods,' thought Maia, 'except that her face and hair are so white, they would gleam out like snow.'
'Gentle and sweet is she;As the heart of a rose is her heart,As soft and as fair and as sweet.'Liliput Lectures.
'Gentle and sweet is she;As the heart of a rose is her heart,As soft and as fair and as sweet.'
Liliput Lectures.
Godmother turned to the little strangers. The two pairs of blue eyes were still fixed upon her.Hereyes looked very kind and gentle, and yet very 'seeing', as she caught their gaze.
'I believe,' thought Maia, 'that she can tell all we are thinking;' and Rollo had something of the same idea, yet neither of them felt the least afraid of her.
'Rollo and Maia, dear children, too,' she said, 'we are so pleased to see you.'
'And we are very pleased to be here,' said they; 'but——' and then they hesitated.
'You are puzzled how it is I know your names, and all about you, are you not?' she said, smiling. 'I puzzle most children at first; but isn't it rather nice to be puzzled?'
This was a new idea. Thinking it over, they began to find there was something in it.
'I think itis,' both replied, smiling a little.
'If you knew all about everything, and could see through everything, there wouldn't be much interest left. Nothing to find out or to fancy. Oh, what a dull world!'
'Are we to find out or to fancyyou?' asked Maia. She spoke seriously, but there was a little look of fun in her eyes which was at once reflected in godmother's.
'Whichever you like,' she replied; 'but, first of all, you are to kiss me.'
Rollo and Maia both kissed the soft white face. It wassosoft, and there seemed a sort of fresh, sweet scent about godmother, as if she had been in a room all filled with violets, only it was even nicer. She smiled, and from a little basket on her arm, which they had not noticed, she drew out several tiny bunches of spring flowers, tied with green and white ribbon—so pretty; oh, so very pretty!
'So you scented my flowers,' she said. 'No wonder; you have never scented any quite like them before. They come from the other country. Here, dears, catch,' and she tossed them up in the air, all four children jumping and darting about to see who would get most. But at the end, when they counted their treasures, it was quite right, each had got three.
'Oh, how sweet!' cried Maia. 'May we take them home with us, godmother?' It seemed to come quite naturally to call her that, and Maia did it without thinking.
'Certainly,' godmother replied; 'but remember this, don't throw them away when they seem withered. They will not be really withered; that is to say, long afterwards, by putting them in the sunshine, they will—some of them, any way—come out quite fresh again. And even when dried up they will have a delicious scent; indeed, the scent has an added charm about it the older they are—so many think, and I agree with them.'
Rollo and Maia looked at their flowers with a sort of awe.
'Then they arefairyflowers?' they half whispered. 'You said they came from the other country. Do you come from there too, godmother? Are you a fairy?'
Godmother smiled.
'Fancy me one if you like,' she said. 'Fancy me whatever you like best, you will not be far wrong; but fairyland is only one little part of that other country. You will find that out as you get older.'
'Shall we go there some day, then?' exclaimed Maia. 'Will you take us, dear godmother? Have Waldo and Silva ever been?'
'Oh, what a lot of questions all at once!' cried godmother. 'I can't answer so many. You must be content to find out some things for yourself, my little girl. The way to the other country for one. Shall you go there some day? Yes, indeed, many and many a time, I hope.'
Maia clapped her hands with delight.
'Oh, how nice!' she said. 'And when? May we go to-day? Oh, Silva, do ask godmother to let us go to-day,' she exclaimed, catching hold of Silva in her eagerness. But Silva only smiled, and looked at godmother; and somehow, when they smiled, the two faces—the young one with its bright rich colour, and the old one, white, so white, except for the wonderful, beautiful eyes, that it might have been made of snow—looked strangely alike.
'Silva has learned to be patient,' said godmother, 'and so she gets to know more and more of the other country. You must follow her example, little Maia. Don't be discouraged. How do you know that you are not already on the way there? What do you think about it, my boy?' she went on, turning to Rollo, who was standing a little behind them listening, but saying nothing.
Rollo looked up and smiled.
'I'd like to find the way myself,' he replied.
'That's right,' said godmother. And Maia felt more and more puzzled, as it seemed to her that Rollo understood the meaning of godmother's words better than she did.
'Rollo,' she exclaimed, half reproachfully.
Rollo turned to her with some surprise.
'You understand and I don't,' she said, with a little pout on her pretty lips.
'No,' said Rollo, 'I don't. But I like to think of understanding some day.'
'That is right,' said godmother again. 'But this is dull talk for you, little people. What is it to be to-day, Silva? What is old godmother to do for you?'
Silva glanced out of the window.
'The day will soon be closing into evening,' she said,' and Rollo and Maia cannot stay after sunset. We have not very long, godmother—no time to go anywhere.'
'Ah, I don't know about that,' godmother replied. 'But still—the first visit. What would you like, then, my child?'
'Let us gather round the fire, for it is a little chilly,' said Silva, 'and you, dear godmother, will tell us a story.'
Maia's eyes and Rollo's, too, brightened at this. Godmother had no need to ask if they would like it. She drew the large chair nearer the fireplace, and the four children clustered round her in silence waiting for her to begin.
'It is too warm with my cloak on,' she said, and she raised her hand to unfasten it at the neck and loosen it a little. It did not entirely fall off; the dark green hood still made a shade round her silvery hair and delicate face, but the cloak dropped away enough for Maia's sharp eyes to see that the dress underneath was of lovely crimson stuff, neither velvet nor satin, but richer and softer than either. It glimmered in the light of the fire with a sort of changing brilliance that was very tempting, and it almost seemed to Maia that she caught the sparkle of diamonds and other precious stones.
'May I stroke your pretty dress, godmother?' she said softly. Godmother started; she did not seem to have noticed how much of the crimson was seen, and for a moment Maia felt a little afraid. But then godmother smiled again, and the child felt quite happy, and slipped her hand inside the folds of the cloak till it reached the soft stuff beneath.
'Stroke it the right way,' said godmother.
'Oh,howsoft!' said Maia in delight. 'Whatisit made of? It isn't velvet, or even plush. Godmother,' she went on, puckering her forehead again in perplexity, 'it almost feels likefeathers. Are you perhaps abirdas well as a fairy?'
At this godmother laughed. You never heard anything so pretty as her laugh. It was something like—no, I could never tell you what it was like—a very little like lots of tiny silver bells ringing, and soft breezes blowing, and larks trilling, all together andverygently, and yet very clearly. The children could not help all laughing, too, to hear it.
'Call me whatever you like,' said godmother. 'A bird, or a fairy, or a will-o'-the-wisp, or even a witch. Many people have called me a witch, and I don't mind. Only, dears,' and here her pretty, sweet voice grew grave, and even a little sad, 'never think of me except as loving you and wanting to make you happy and good. And never believe I have said or done anything to turn you from doing right and helping others to do it. That is the only thing that could grieve me. And the world is full of people who don't see things the right way, and blame others when it is their own fault all the while. So sometimes you will find it all rather difficult. But don't forget.'
'No,' said Maia, 'we won't forget, even though we don't quite understand. We will some day, won't we?'
'Yes, dears, that you will,' said godmother.
'And just now,' said Silva, 'it doesn't matter. We needn't think about the difficult world, dear godmother, while we'rehere—ever so far away from it.'
'No, we need not,' said godmother, with what sounded almost like a sigh, if one could have believed that godmothercouldsigh! If it were one, it was gone in an instant, and with her very prettiest and happiest smile, godmother turned to the children.
'And now, dears,' she said, 'now for the story.'
The four figures drew still nearer, the four pair of eyes were fixed on the sweet white face, into which, as she spoke, a little soft pink colour began to come. Whether it was from the reflection of the fire or not, Maia could not decide, and godmother's clear voice went on.
'Once——'
'Once upon a time; do say "once upon a time,"' interrupted Silva.
'Well, well, once upon a time,' repeated godmother, 'though, by the by, how do you know I wasnotgoing to say it? Well, then, once upon a time, a long ago once upon a time, there lived a king's daughter.'
'A princess,' interrupted another voice, Maia's this time. 'Why don't you say a princess, dear godmother?'
'Never mind,' replied godmother. 'I like better to call her a king's daughter.'
'And don't interrupt any more, please,' said Waldo and Rollo together, quite forgetting that they were actually interrupting themselves.
'And,' continued godmother, without noticing this last interruption, 'she was very beautiful and very sweet and good, even though she had everything in the world that even a king's daughter could want. Do you look surprised at my saying "even though," children? You need not; there is nothing more difficult than to remain unselfish, which is just another word for "sweet and good," if one never knows what it is to have a wish ungratified. But so it was with Auréole, for that was the name of the fair maiden. Though she had all her life been surrounded with luxury and indulgence, though she had never known even a crumpled rose-leaf in her path, her heart still remained tender, and she felt for the sufferings of others whenever she knew of them, as if they were her own.
'"Who knows?" she would say softly to herself, "who knows but what some day sorrow may come to me, and then how glad I should be to find kindness and sympathy!"
'And when she thought thus there used to come a look in her eyes which made her old nurse, who loved her dearly, tremble and cross herself.
'"I have never seen that look," she would whisper, though not so that Auréole could hear it—"I have never seen that look save in the eyes of those who were born to sorrow."
'But time went on, and no sorrows of her own had as yet come to Auréole. She grew to be tall and slender, with golden fair curls about her face, which gave her a childlike, innocent look, as if she were younger than her real age. And with her years her tenderness and sympathy for suffering seemed to grow deeper and stronger. It was the sure way to her heart. In a glade not far from the castle she had a favourite bower, where early every morning she used to go to feed and tend her pets, of which the best-loved was a delicate little fawn that she had found one day in the forest, deserted by its companions, as it had hurt its foot and could no longer keep pace with them. With difficulty Auréole and her nurse carried it home between them, and tended it till it grew well again and could once more run and spring as lightly as ever. And then one morning Auréole, with tears in her eyes, led it back to the forest where she had found it.
'"Here, my fawn," she said, "you are free as air. I would not keep you a captive. Hasten to your friends, my fawn, but do not forget Auréole, and if you are in trouble come to her to help you."
'But the fawn would not move. He rubbed himself softly against her, and looked up in her face with eyes that almost spoke. She could not but understand what he meant to say.
'"I cannot leave you. Let me stay always beside you," was what he tried to express. So Auréole let him follow her home again, and from that day he had always lived in her bower, and was never so happy as when gambolling about her. She had other pets too—numbers of birds of various kinds, none of which she kept in cages, for all of them she had in some way or other saved and protected, and, like the fawn, they refused to leave her. The sweetest, perhaps, were a pair of wood-pigeons which she had one day released from a fowler's snare, where they had become entangled. It was the prettiest sight in the world to see Auréole in her bower every morning, the fawn rubbing his soft head against her white dress, and the wood-pigeons cooing to her, one perched on each shoulder, while round her head fluttered a crowd of birds of different kinds—all owing their life and happiness to her tender care. There was a thrush, which she had found half-fledged and gasping for breath, fallen from the nest; a maimed swallow, who had been left behind by his companions in the winter flight. And running about, though still lame of one leg, a tame rabbit which she had rescued from a dog, and ever so many other innocent creatures, all with histories of the same kind, and each vying with the other to express gratitude to their dear mistress as she stood there with the sunshine peeping through the boughs and lighting up her sweet face and bright hair.