PORTRAIT OF HILDEGARDE.
A pair of friends.—Wordsworth.
Fraulein was right. Both driver and horses woke up wonderfully as the first straggling houses of the village came in sight; it would be impossible to describe the extraordinary sounds and ejaculations which Friedrich, as he was called, addressed to his steeds, but which they evidently quite understood.
'How nice it is to go so fast, and to hear the bells jingling so,' said Leonore. 'I wish we had farther to go.'
'If that were the case we should soon sober down again,' said Fraulein with a smile, adding the next moment, 'and here we are. See the good aunt, my child, as I told you—standing at the gate, just as I last saw her, when I left her five years ago! Butthen it was parting and tears—now it is meeting and joy.'
Tears nevertheless were not wanting in the eyes of both the good ladies—tears of happiness, however, which were quickly wiped away.
'How well you are looking—not a day older,' said the niece.
'And you, my Elsa—how wellyoulook. A trifle stouter perhaps, but that is an improvement. You have always been too thin, my child,' said the aunt, fondly patting Fraulein's shoulders, though she had to reach up to do so. Then she moved quickly to Leonore with a little exclamation of apology.
'And I have not yet welcomed our guest. Welcome to Dorf, my Fraulein—a thousand times welcome, and may you be as happy here as the old aunt will wish to make you.'
Leonore had been standing by eyeing the aunt and niece with the greatest interest. It amused her much to hear her governess spoken to as 'my child,' for toherFraulein seemed quite old, long past the age of thinkinghowold she was. Indeed, the white-haired little lady did not seem to her much older!
'Thank you,' she said in reply to the aunt's kindwords. 'I hope I shall be very happy here, but please don't call me anything but Leonore.'
'As you please,' her new friend replied, while Fraulein smiled beamingly. She was most anxious that her aunt and her pupil should make friends, and she knew that, though Leonore was a polite and well-mannered little girl, she had likes and dislikes of her own, and not always quite reasonable ones. Perhaps, to put it shortly, she felt anxious that her charge was just a trifle spoilt, and that she herself had had a hand in the spoiling.
'A motherless child,' she had said to herself many and many a time in excuse during the five years she had had the care of Leonore, for Fraulein had gone to her when the little girl was only four years old, 'and her papa so far away! Who could be severe with her?'
Not tender-hearted Fraulein Elsa, most certainly!
So she felt especially delighted when Leonore replied so prettily to her aunt, and still more so when the child lifted up her face for the kiss of welcome which Aunt Anna was only too ready to bestow, though she would have been rather surprised had she known the thoughts that were in Leonore's head at the moment.
'I believe shedoesknow something about fairies,'the little girl was saying to herself. 'She has nice twinkly eyes, and—oh, I don't know what makes me think so, but I believe shedoesunderstand about them. Any way, she won't be like my aunts in England who always want me to read improving books and say I am getting too big for fairy stories.'
That first evening in the quaint old village was full of interest for Leonore. Aunt Anna's house in itself was charming to her, for though really small as to the size and number of its rooms, it did not seem so. There were such nice 'twisty' passages, and funny short flights of steps, each leading perhaps to only one room, or even to nothing more than a landing with a window.
And, standing at one of these, the little girl made a grand discovery, which took her flying off to the room where Fraulein was busily unpacking the boxes which the carrier had already brought.
'Fraulein, Fraulein,' she cried; 'I've been looking out at the back of the house, and just across the yard there's a lovely sort of big courtyard and buildings round it, and I saw a man all white and powdery carrying sacks. Is there a mill here?'
'Yes, my dear,' Fraulein replied. 'Did I not tell you? It is a very old mill, and the same peoplehave had it for nearly a hundred years—such nice people too. I will take you all over it in a day or two—it will amuse you to see the different kinds of grain and flour, all so neatly arranged.'
'And the same people have been there for nearly a hundred years!' exclaimed Leonore. 'Howveryold they must be.'
Fraulein laughed. Though Leonore was so fond of wonders and fancies, she was sometimes very matter-of-fact. Aunt Anna, who just then joined them, smiled kindly.
'Elsa did not mean the samepersons,' she explained, 'but the same family—the same name. Those there now—the miller himself—is the great-grandson of the man who was there first when the mill was built, which was, I think, fullymorethan a hundred years ago,' she added, turning to her niece.
Leonore looked rather disappointed.
'Oh,' she said, 'I thought it would be so nice to see people who were a hundred. Then, I suppose, the people here aren't any older than anywhere else.'
'I can scarcely say that,' Aunt Anna replied. 'There are some very old, and—there are odd stories about a few of the aged folk. I know one or twowho do not seem to have grown any older sinceIcan remember, and my memory goes back a good way now. But, my dears, I came to tell you that supper is ready—we must not let it get cold.'
She held out her hand to Leonore as she spoke. The little girl took it, and went off with her very happily, Fraulein calling after them that she would follow immediately.
'Please tell me, Aunt Anna,' said Leonore—it had been decided that she should thus address the old lady—'please tell me, do you mean that some of these very old people who don't grow any older are a kind offairy?'
She spoke almost in a whisper, but she was quite in earnest.
'Well,' said Aunt Anna, 'this country is on the borders of Fairyland, so who can say? When we were children—I and my brothers and sisters and the little barons and baronesses up at the Castle—when we all played together long ago, we used often to try to find the way there—and fairies, of course, are much cleverer than we are. I don't see why some of them may not stray into our world sometimes.'
'And pretend to benotfairies,' said Leonore eagerly. 'P'raps they go back to Fairyland everynight, and are here every day; fairies don't need to go to sleep ever, do they?'
But Aunt Anna had not time to reply just then, for supper was on the table, and all her attention was given to seeing that the dishes were what they should be, and in helping her little guest to Leonore's liking.
When Fraulein joined them, however, the conversation took a more general turn.
'I was speaking just now to Leonore,' Aunt Anna began, 'of my childhood—when your dear father, Elsie, and the others, and I used to play with the castle children. And that reminds me that I have a piece of news for you—things repeat themselves it is said. It will be strange if a second generation——' she said no more, and for a moment or two seemed lost in thought—the thought of the past!
Fraulein was used to her aunt's ways; the old lady was a curious mixture of practical commonsense and dreamy fancifulness. But after a little pause the niece recalled her to the present.
'A piece of news, you said, aunt? Good news, I hope?' she inquired.
'I think so,' said the aunt. 'It is about the family at the Castle. Little Baroness Hildegarde isprobably, almost certainly, coming here to spend the winter with her grandparents. She may arrive any day.'
'Oh Iampleased to hear it,' said Fraulein. 'It was just what I was hoping might happen, but I dared scarcely think of it. It would be so nice for our dear Leonore to have a companion.'
Leonore pricked up her ears at this.
'Yes, my dear,' Fraulein went on, in answer to the question in her eyes, 'I have not spoken of it to you before, for there seemed so little chance of its coming to pass. It is about the little Hildegarde who would be such a delightful companion for you. She is just about your age, an only child as you are, and such a dear little girl by all accounts. I have not seen her since she was six, but Aunt Anna knows her well, and the family at the Castle have been our most kind friends for so long.'
Leonore looked full of interest but rather perplexed.
'I don't quite understand,' she said. 'Do you mean that the little girl is perhaps coming to live here in this house with us?'
'Oh no, my dear. Her own home is a good way off, but her grandpapa and grandmamma live at theCastle—a large old gray house half way up the hill above the village. I will show it to you to-morrow. It is a wonderfully quaint old place. And the little Baroness comes sometimes on long visits to her grandparents, who love to have her.'
'Only they fear it is lonely for her, as she is accustomed to the life of a great capital,' said Aunt Anna. 'They were delighted to hear I was expecting a little guest, when I saw them the other day, and they told me of the probability of Hildegarde's coming.'
Fraulein almost clapped her hands at this.
'Nothing could be more fortunate,' she said. 'There will be no fear now of your finding Dorf dull, my dearest Leonore.'
Leonore smiled back in return. It was impossible not to be touched by her kind governess's anxiety for her happiness, but she herself had had no fears about being dull or lonely at Dorf. She was not much accustomed to companions of her own age, and just a little shy of them, so the news of Hildegarde's coming was not quite as welcome to her as to her friends.
'I should have been quite happy without anybody else,' she said to herself. 'I love old Aunt Anna, and I am sure she knows plenty of fairystories whether she has ever seen any fairies herself or not.'
Still she felt, of course, a good deal of curiosity to see the grandchild of the Castle, and could not help letting her thoughts run on her. Would she be taller or smaller than herself—dark or fair, merry or quiet? Above all, would she care for the same things—would she love fairies, and be always hoping to see one some day?
There was plenty for Leonore to think about, and dream about, that first night in the quaint little house, was there not?
And dream she did. When she woke in the morning it seemed to her that she had been busy at it all night, though only one bit of her dreams remained in her memory. This bit was about Hildegarde, and, strange as it seemed, about a person she had only given a passing moment's attention to—the old dame in the market-place at Alt.
She dreamt that she was walking along the village street, when she heard a voice calling. She was alone, and she looked back expecting to see Fraulein. But no—a queer little figure was trotting after her, and as it came nearer she heard that the name that reached her ears was not 'Leonore,' but 'Hildegarde,'and with that, some queer feeling made her slip inside the shade of a gateway she was passing to watch what happened. And as the figure came quite close she saw that it was that of the old apple-woman—then to her surprise there came flying down the hill, for the village street lay closely below the rising ground at one side, a child all dressed in white, with fair hair blowing about her face as she ran.
'Here I am,' she said, 'what is it?'
And now glancing at the dame, Leonore saw that she was quite changed—at first indeed she thought she was no longer there, till some unuttered voice seemed to tell her that the figure now before her was still the same person. She had grown tall and wavy-looking—her wrinkled face was smooth and fair—only the bright dark eyes remained, and as she held out her hand as if to welcome the pretty child, Leonore saw that in it lay three nuts small and dry and brown—just like the three still stored in her own jacket pocket.
'Take these,' said a sweet low voice, 'they will match hers. You will know what to do with them, and by their means you will bring her to me. We must make her happy—she has travelled far, and she has longed to cross the borderland.
And Hildegarde, for the same inner voice seemedto tell Leonore that Hildegarde it was, took the nuts and nodded, as if to say 'I understand,' and with that, to her great disappointment, Leonore awoke!
Awoke, however, to what goes far to take away disappointment of such a kind. For the sun was shining brightly, her simple but cosy little room seemed painted in white and pale gold, and a soft green by the window told her that the creepers had not yet faded into their winter bareness.
'I wonder what o'clock it is,' thought the little girl, as she gazed about her in great content. 'How glad I am that it is such a fine day! I do want to go all about the village, and especially to see the Castle. Iwonderif Hildegarde is like the little girl in my dream. I do hope she is. And how funny that I should have dreamt about the nut-woman turning into a fairy—it does seem as if Hildegarde must care for fairies just as I do—and as if she knew a good deal about them, too. By the bye I do hope my nuts are safe. I never remembered to take them out of my jacket pocket!'
She was on the point of jumping up to see if they were still there when the door opened softly and Fraulein peeped in. She was already dressed, andher face was beaming; it seemed to reflect the sunshine coming in at the window.
'Oh, Fraulein, dear,' said Leonore, 'how lazy I am! You are dressed, and I only woke up a few minutes ago.'
'All the better, my child,' was Fraulein's kind reply. 'It means, I hope, that you have slept well and soundly. My native air brings back old habits to me, you see. I was always accustomed to getting up very early here. And see, what a lovely day it is! As soon as we have had breakfast I must take you out to see the village and——'
'The Castle,' interrupted Leonore. 'Can't we go to the Castle? I do so want to know if Hildegarde has come. I have been—' 'dreaming about her,' she was going to say, but something, she knew not what, made her hesitate and change the words into 'thinking of her—' 'so much.'
Which was of course quite true.
And something of the same feeling prevented her looking for the nuts till Fraulein left the room.
'It is not likely that the little Baroness has already arrived,' her governess replied. 'We shall be sure to hear as soon as she comes. But we can see something of the Castleoutsideat any rate. Forthe next few days I think it must be all holiday-time,' she went on, smiling. 'Aunt Anna begs for it, and we have been working pretty steadily these last months.'
Leonore had no objection to this proposal, though she was fond of lessons, never having been over-dosed with them, and she jumped out of bed and bathed and dressed in the best of spirits. The nuts were quite safe in her jacket pocket. She wrapped them in a piece of paper for better security and put them back again.
'I should not like to lose them,' she thought. 'My dream has given me a feeling that there is something out of the common about them, and I should like to take them with me wherever I go. JustsupposingI ever met any fairy sort of person, perhaps the nuts might turn out to be of use in some queer way.'
After breakfast, and when Fraulein had helped Leonore to arrange her books and work and other little things in the room that was to serve as her schoolroom during the winter, they set off on their first ramble through and round the village.
It was a pretty village—lying as it did at the foot of the hills, which were beautifully wooded, it couldscarcely have been ugly. But besides these natural advantages, it was bright and clean; many of the houses, too, were pretty in themselves, with deep roofs and carved balconies, and in some cases many coloured designs painted on the outside walls. Leonore was delighted; it was so different from any place she had ever seen before.
'Oh, Fraulein,' she exclaimed, 'it's like a toy-town. It doesn't look as if real people had built it.'
'But it looks as if very real people had builtthat, does it not?' said Fraulein, stopping short and drawing Leonore a little backward.
'That' was the grim old Castle, of which they now had the first view, standing lonely and gray up on the heights overlooking the village, like a stern guardian keeping watch on the doings of playful children at his feet.
The little girl gazed at it with all her eyes.
'It's a real Castle,' she exclaimed; 'Iamso pleased. It looks as if it had dungeons and—and—forti— What is the word, Fraulein?'
'Fortifications,' said her governess. 'You mean that it is fortified. Yes; at least it used to be in the old days. There are the holes in the walls which the defenders used to shoot through in time of siege, andthere are battlements still quite perfect round the front. It is so pleasant to saunter on them, and think of the strange scenes the old place must have witnessed. We can walk up the hill towards the gates if you like, and you will see a little more.'
Leonore, of course,didlike, and the nearer they got to the Castle the more was she fascinated by the view of the ancient building. Just outside the entrance they stood still, and Fraulein began pointing out to her its different parts and giving her a little historical account of it, to which she listened with interest. Suddenly—for all was very silent just then—they heard steps approaching and a clear young voice singing softly. And—Fraulein stopped talking and stood gazing before her, as did Leonore, till—from among the trees which bordered the short approach to the inner gateway, there appeared a childish figure, running towards them, singing as she came. A young girl, dressed all in white, with fair floating hair——
'It is Hildegarde,' said Leonore, growing pale with excitement. For the figure was exactly like the little girl in her dream!
Oh, what is that country,And where can it be?—Rossetti.
If Fraulein heard what Leonore said, she did not seem surprised, for though she did not, of course, know about the little girl's curious dream, she knew that Hildegarde's coming had been freely talked about the evening before. But shewasvery astonished a moment later when Hildegarde, looking up quietly, said with a smile—
'I have come to meet you. I was sure I should.'
'My dear child!' exclaimed Fraulein. 'How could you know? The fairies must have told you!'
The little stranger smiled again.
'This is Leonore,' she said, taking the other child's hand. 'Grandmamma told me her name, but grandmamma did not know I should meet you'; and she shook her head with a funny little air of mystery.
'It is wonderful,' said Fraulein; 'it is even wonderful that you should knowmeagain. It is five years—five years—since you saw me last—half your life.'
'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'but I can remember longer ago than that.'
She was still holding Leonore's hand, and though the little English girl felt rather shy, and had not yet spoken to her new friend, yet she liked the touch of the gentle fingers and pressed them in return, while she looked at Hildegarde's pretty fair face in admiration.
'I am coming soon to see Aunt Anna,' Hildegarde went on. 'Will you give her my love, Fraulein Elsa, and tell her so? May I come this afternoon?'
'Certainly, certainly,' said Fraulein; 'the sooner you and Leonore make friends, the better pleased we shall all be.'
At this Leonore took courage.
'Yes,' she said, looking earnestly at Hildegarde with her serious dark eyes. 'I wantvery muchto be friends.'
'It will not take long,' said Hildegarde, and then, for the first time, Leonore noticed that the little girl's eyes were not like any she had ever seen before.They were not blue, as one would have expected from her light, almost flaxen hair and fair complexion, but a kind of bright hazel-brown—with lovely flashes, almost, as it were, of sunshine, coming and going.
'They aregoldeneyes,' thought Leonore; and when she repeated this to Fraulein afterwards, her governess agreed with her that she was right.
'I remember noticing their colour when she was a very tiny child,' said Fraulein, thinking to herself that the two little girls made a pretty contrast, for Leonore's hair was dark, as well as her eyes.
Hildegarde held up her face for Fraulein to kiss, and then she ran off again, saying as she did so—
'Do not forget to tell Aunt Anna I am coming, and perhaps she will make some of those dear little round cakes I love so—she knows which they are. Leonore will like them too, I am sure.'
The day was getting on by this time; it was past noon.
'We will just stroll to the other end of the village,' said Fraulein; 'from there we shall have the side view of the Castle—there is a short cut down to the street at that end, by some steps, but they are rough and in need of repair, so we generallyprefer the longer way. The old Baron has spoken of shutting off the side entrance; he says it is only fit for goats to scramble up.'
Leonore thought, though she did not say so, that it would be very amusing for little girls all the same, and determined to ask Hildegarde about it. She thought the Castle even more interesting seen sideways than in front; it looked so very close to the thick dark trees behind, almost as if it touched them.
'I shall have lots of things to talk to Hildegarde about,' she said to herself. 'These woods areveryfairy-looking. And I think I must tell her my strange dream about her and the nuts. I don'tthinkshe would laugh at it. I hope I have them quite safe.'
Yes, they lay snugly in her pocket, wrapped up in the piece of paper—a nice piece of pink paper that she had found among her things.
'I will leave them where they are,' she thought, 'and then I shall be sure to remember to tell Hildegarde my dream.'
It was nearly dinner-time when they got back to Aunt Anna's, for in that part of the world big people as well as little dine in the middle of the day.Aunt Anna was most interested in hearing of Hildegarde's arrival, and quite as delighted as Fraulein had been.
'And was it not strange that she should have come to meet us?' said Fraulein. 'She must have had a presentiment about it.'
'What is a presentiment?' asked Leonore.
'A sort of knowing beforehand about something that is going to happen,' answered Fraulein. 'Many people have the feeling, but very often it does not come true, and then it is not a real presentiment. It is not everybody that has real presentiments.'
Aunt Anna smiled. Leonore was learning to love her smiles. They reminded her of some other smile—whose was it? Hildegarde's?—yes, a little, perhaps, but no, she had seen Hildegarde for the first time that morning, and this feeling about Aunt Anna's smile had come to her already yesterday. Whose smile could it be?
'Hildegarde is a dear child,' said Aunt Anna, 'and perhaps she is one of the few who know more than the everyday people. And she was born at the Castle and spent her babyhood there. How well I remember the day she was christened!'
'Oh, do tell me,' exclaimed Leonore impulsively.'Did they have a grand feast, and did they invite any fairies? Perhaps she had a fairy godmother.'
'Leonore!' said Fraulein, beginning to laugh. 'You are getting too fanciful—you really——'
'Nay, Elsa,' interrupted Aunt Anna. 'Let the child say out what is in her mind, and remember, we are here in our dear country, close on the borders of Fairyland——'
'Yes, Fraulein,' Leonore interrupted in her turn. 'You said so yourself.'
'And assuredly,' Aunt Anna went on, 'if Hildegarde has a fairy godmother, she has given her none but good gifts.'
'You speak as if such things were possible, my dear aunt,' said Fraulein. 'We must not let Leonore grow too fanciful. I shall have you and her taking flight in an airy chariot drawn by white swans or something of that kind some fine day, if I don't take care.'
'Well, you and Hildegarde can come after us in another chariot if we do,' said Aunt Anna, laughing.
But Leonore remained serious.
'Please tell me, Aunt Anna,' she said, 'as you were at Hildegarde's christening, was there any one there whomighthave been a fairy?'
Aunt Anna hesitated.
'There was an odd story,' she replied, 'about a beautiful lady who was met coming away from the nursery, when the baby had been left alone in her cot for a moment or two. And when the nurse went back she found her smiling and crowing and chuckling to herself as if she were six months instead of only a few days old, and in her little hand she was tightly clasping——'
'What?' asked Leonore breathlessly.
'Three nuts,' replied Aunt Anna impressively. 'Three common little brown hazel-nuts. That part of the story is true, for Hildegarde has the nuts to this day, I believe—at least she had them the last time she was here.'
'She must have picked them up somehow,' said Fraulein.
Aunt Anna shook her head.
'A baby of a few days old cannot pick things up,' she said. 'No, it has never been explained. None of the servants had put them into her hand—indeed they would not have been so foolish, and they could scarcely have had the chance of doing so. And it was said by the one or two who declared they had met her, that the beautiful lady was carrying a basketon her arm filled with common hazel-nuts, and some days afterwards one of the foresters said that late that same evening a little old woman whom he had never seen before stopped him up in the high woods to ask the way to some strange place of which he had never heard, and she—the little old woman—was carrying a basket of nuts. She offered him some, but he thought she was a witch and would not have any.'
'Dear me, Aunt Anna,' exclaimed her niece, 'I did not know all these wonderful tales. Surely they grew out of finding the nuts in the baby's hands. I do remember hearingthat, though I had forgotten it.'
'Perhaps that was the origin of it all,' said her aunt quietly. 'Still, Hildegarde is an uncommon child. It certainly seems as if she had received some fairy gifts, however they came to her.'
Leonore did not speak, but she listened intently. She would probably have not contented herself with listening but for knowing that she was so soon to see Hildegarde herself again.
'Shewill be the best person to ask,' thought Leonore. 'I will tell her aboutmynuts and the little old woman who gave me them, and about the pretty laugh I heard in the wood, and then, I feel sure, she will tell me allsheknows.'
She could scarcely finish her dinner, so eager and excited did she feel. And she was more than delighted when, at the close of the meal, kind Fraulein proposed to her that, as Hildegarde had come to meetthemthat morning, Leonore should show her new little friend the same attention.
'You can scarcely miss her,' she said. 'She is sure to come the same way that I took you this morning. If you get ready now, and start in a quarter of an hour or so, you will be about right, I should say. They dine early at the Castle. But I should like you to change your dress in case you should be presented to the Baroness—Hildegarde's grandmamma.'
Leonore ran off to get ready. She was not long about it, but all the same her new little friend must have been even quicker, for Leonore met her a very few steps only from Aunt Anna's gate. Hildegarde's face lighted up with a smile when she caught sight of the other little girl.
'So you have come to meet me,' she said; 'that is very nice of you. I hope I have not come too soon. Shall I go in now to see Aunt Anna?'
Leonore looked a little disappointed, which Hildegarde seemed at once to understand.
'I don't mean tostaywith Aunt Anna,' she added quickly; 'what I want is for you and me to go out somewhere together. It is a lovely day, and I have leave to stay out till dusk. My grandmamma is going to pay some visits, so she hopes to see you some other day—perhaps to-morrow. I think we shall get to know each other far the best by being alone by ourselves—don't you think so?'
'Yes, certainly,' said Leonore, her face clearing. 'I am so glad you understand. I have such a lot of things to talk to you about.'
Hildegarde nodded her head. It was a little habit of hers to do so without speaking sometimes.
'Then we must not lose any of our time,' she said, after a moment's pause. 'But first I will run in to give Aunt Anna a kiss, and then we can go off somewhere together.'
Aunt Anna's face was full of pleasure at the sight of her little friend—the two were evidently old acquaintances.
'How well you are looking, my child,' she said, 'and how much you have grown! Let me see, which is the taller, you or our little Leonore,' and she drew the two children together. 'There is not a quarter of an inch between you,' she exclaimed. 'If youwere ponies you would be a perfect match—one dark and one fair,' she added musingly. 'Yes, my dears, you are evidently intended to be friends.'
'And that is just what we mean to be,' said Hildegarde. 'May we go now, Aunt Anna? You will not be anxious even if Leonore does not come home till dark?'
'Oh no,' said the old lady tranquilly, 'I know you are as safe as you can be—you are going to the woods, I suppose?'
'I think so,' Hildegarde replied.
As soon as they found themselves out of doors again, she took Leonore's hand.
'Let us run quickly through the village,' she said, 'and then when we get inside the Castle grounds we can go slowly and talk as we go. Or perhaps we can sit down—it is so mild, and there are lots of cosy places among the trees.'
Leonore was quite pleased to do as Hildegarde proposed; indeed she had a curious feeling that whatever her new little friend wished she would like. She did not speak much, for it seemed to her as if she were meant in the first place to listen.
The woods were very lovely that afternoon.Hildegarde led the way round the Castle without approaching it quite closely, till they stood in a little clearing, from which they looked upwards into the rows of pine-trees, through which here and there the afternoon sunshine made streaks of light and brightness.
'Isn't it pretty here?' said Hildegarde. 'Hush—there's a squirrel—there are lots about here; they are so tame they like to be near the house, I think. Shall we sit down? It is quite dry.'
Leonore was not troubled with any fears of catching cold—and indeed the day was as mild as summer.
'Yes,' she said, 'it is a very pretty place. I have never seen such big woods before.'
'They go on for miles and miles—up ever so far,' said Hildegarde, 'though here and there the ground is quite flat for a bit. And over there,' she pointed to the left, 'they are not pine woods, but all sorts of other trees. I don't know which I like best.'
'Pine woodsIshould say,' Leonore replied. 'Perhaps because I have never seen such beautiful high fir-trees before. And the way the sun peeps through them is so pretty.'
As she spoke, half unconsciously her hand strayedto her jacket pocket. There lay safely the little packet containing the three nuts.
'Hildegarde,' she said, 'I heard the story about you when you were a baby, and what they found in your hand. And—it is very odd—do you know—no, of course you couldn't—but just fancy,Ihave three nuts too!'
Hildegarde nodded her head.
'Ididknow,' she said, smiling. 'And—look here.'
From the front of her frock she drew out a little green silk bag drawn in at the top with tiny white ribbon. She opened it carefully, and took out something which she held towards Leonore—on her pretty pink palm lay three nuts, common little brown nuts, just like Leonore's. And Leonore unwrapped her own packet and in the same way held out its contents.
'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'it is all right. I knew you had them.'
Leonore stared at her in astonishment.
'How could you know?' she exclaimed.
'I suppose people would say I dreamt it,' Hildegarde replied, 'but I don't call it dreaming. I have always known things like that since I was a baby.And I knew that some day I should have a friend like you, and that together we should have lovely adventures, and now it is going to come true.'
Leonore grew rosy red with excitement.
'Do you mean,' she began, 'Hildegarde,canyou mean that perhaps we are going to find the way to Fairyland?Ihave been thinking about it ever since I can remember anything.'
Hildegarde nodded.
'Yes,' she said, 'I am sure you have. But I don't quite know about Fairyland itself. I am not sure if any one ever getsquitethere—into the very insidest part, you know. I almost think we should have to be turned into fairies for that, and then we never could be little girls again, you see. But I am sure we are going to see some wonderful things—there are the outside parts of Fairyland, you know.'
'Fraulein says all this country is on the borders of Fairyland,' said Leonore.
'Well, so it is, I daresay, for fairiesdocome about here sometimes. You've heard the story of the one that came to my christening feast?'
'Yes,' said Leonore, 'and I am beginning to think that I have seen her too,' and she went on to tellHildegarde about the little old dame in the market-place at Alt who had given her the nuts, and about the mischievous laugh she had heard in the wood on the way to Dorf, and all her own thoughts and fancies, including her dream of Hildegarde herself.
Hildegarde listened attentively.
'I feel sure you are right,' she said, 'and that the damewasmy own fairy, as I call her. And I believe the laugh you heard in the wood was when you were hoping you hadn't lost the last three nuts. I don't believe you could have lost them; if you had thrown them away they would have come back to you. Just think how my three have always been kept safe, even though I was only a tiny baby when they were put into my hand.'
Both little girls sat silent for a moment or two, gazing at the six brown nuts.
'And what do you think we are meant to do now?' asked Leonore at last.
'To do,' repeated Hildegarde in some surprise; 'why, of course it's quite plain—to crack the nuts! Not all of them at once—one, or perhaps two—one of yours and one of mine, I daresay.'
'Oh,' exclaimed Leonore, 'do you really think weshould?HowI wonder what we shall find! Just supposing there is nothing but a kernel inside.'
'There's no good in supposing it,' said Hildegarde; 'we shall soon see. As I have had the nuts the longest perhaps it's meant for me to crack one first—so——'
She put the nut between her teeth. Of course if ithadbeen a common nut this would not have been a sensible thing to do, as she would probably have broken her teeth and not cracked the nut, but Hildegarde knew what she was about. The nut gave way with a touch, and in another moment the little girl had broken off enough of the shell to see what was inside, Leonore bending over her in breathless eagerness.
'You had best come with me,' says he..... And so they did.—The Brown Bear.
The first exclamation came from Leonore. It was one of disappointment.
'Oh, Hildegarde,' she cried, 'itisonly a common kernel,' for nothing was to be seen but what looked just like the browny-gray skin of the inside of a nut.
'No,' Hildegarde replied, 'it isn't that at all'; and with her clever little fingers she carefully drew out what was in reality a small sheet of thin brown paper or tissue of some curious kind, rolled into a ball, and which, when she had carefully unfolded it, was shown to have a few lines of words stamped or impressed upon it in gilt letters.
These were the lines. I have translated them to give the exact meaning, though as rhymes they were prettier in the original language:—
Right behind the CastleIs hid a tiny door;This let thy comrade open—Nuts you still have four.
Hildegarde smoothed it out and held it for Leonore to see.
'What can it mean?' Leonore asked breathlessly.
'First,' said Hildegarde, 'it means that you are to crack one of your nuts too. Don't you see—it says "thycomrade," and then "nutsyoustill have four." That shows that the "you" means us both together—four nuts between us. So please crack your one.'
Leonore did so between her teeth, as her friend had done, and quite as easily. This time there was no exclamation of disappointment, for the first glimpse of the contents showed something glittering, and with trembling eagerness the little girl, breaking away still more of the shell, drew out a little ball of very fine but firm gilt thread. This, by Hildegarde's advice, she gently untwined, till she came to something hard in the middle. It was a small, very small, gold key, hanging on the long gilt thread, which proved to be in a ring, with no knot or join to be seen.
Leonore, without speaking, glanced up at Hildegarde,who was earnestly examining their new discovery.
'"Right behind the Castle,"' Hildegarde murmured to herself. 'Let me see—yes, I think I know what it means. See, Leonore, "right behind" must be from the centre of the wall of the Castle yard down below us, I should say. It is easy to find, as there is a door just in the middle. Look, you can see it from here. Well, now, if one of us stands as near the middle as we can guess, holding the thread, and the other goes straight on, holding the thread too, as far as it will reach, and running the key on as she goes, then she would get to the place that I fancy is meant. The thread must be meant to be double, or it would not be in a ring.'
Leonore looked at Hildegarde admiringly.
'Yes,' she said, 'I'm sure that's the best thing to do; anyway, we can try. But, Hildegarde, the key issosmall.'
Hildegarde examined it closely; suddenly Leonore heard a tiny click.
'It is not so very small now,' said Hildegarde; 'see, it pulls out,' and so it did. It was now a long-stemmed, very delicately-made key, small still in the actual words, but quite easy to hold firmly.
Hildegarde moved a few paces to one side.
'I think we are about even with the centre of the Castle here,' she said, stopping short. 'Now, it is for you to look for the door, while I stand here holding the thread, for my rhyme says, "thy comrade," I shall stand quite still, and you walk on as straight as you can go.'
'I am so afraid of the thread breaking,' said Leonore, taking it and the key from Hildegarde.
'I don't think there is any fear of that, if you handle it gently,' said Hildegarde. 'Remember, it must be some kind of a fairy thread.'
Leonore set off, her heart beating with excitement. As she went on she felt the thread sliding gently through her fingers, so she allowed her hold of it to slacken, while she grasped the tiny key more firmly. It seemed to her that she had walked a good way, and she was marvelling at the length of the thread, when she felt it tighten, and, slender as a hair though it was, pull her up with a little jerk. She stopped at once—yes, it was at its full stretch now, and she looked around her eagerly.
The trees were growing thicker and closer here; in front the wood seemed almost dark, though here and there a streak of sunshine broke the gloom.But of adoorof any kind she could see no trace! She gazed downwards, for she had a vague idea that it might be a trap-door in the ground—a great stone with a ring in it, such as one reads of in old stories of enchantment and magic; but no, there was nothing of the kind to be seen, and she was on the point of calling back to Hildegarde that she could find no trace of a door, when, lifting her eyes suddenly, she caught sight of a gleam—a tiny spot of light—on the trunk of a tree in front of her.
It was an old tree; the trunk was much thicker than those around it, the bark was rugged. Leonore hastened close up to it, the thread seeming to become elastic to allow of her doing so. To her delight, as she peered in at the spot, she descried the outline of a very small keyhole in bright gold. She almost screamed with pleasure, and had to conquer her first impulse, which was to try to unlock it at once, for this would have been contrary to what she and Hildegarde had planned. So she did as she had promised, giving a soft jerk to the thread, the signal agreed upon.
And in a minute Hildegarde was beside her, her blue eyes sparkling, her fair hair flying behind her.
'You have found it?' she cried; and Leonore, too excited to speak, pointed to the golden rim.
'The key,' exclaimed Hildegarde, and with careful though trembling fingers Leonore fitted it into the lock. It turned without the slightest difficulty, and there before them stood open a narrow entrance into what looked like a dark hole, about as high as the children themselves.
Leonore was darting forwards when her friend stopped her.
'Take out the key,' she said, 'it must not be left in the lock'; but when Leonore turned to obey her, lo and behold, the key was no longer there, and the thread had slipped from the hold of both! Only a very tiny shiny ball, like a gold bead, was lying among the fir-needles at their feet, and as Hildegarde stooped to pick it up, it seemed to sink into the ground, and disappeared!
She stood up again, laughing.
'All right,' she said, 'it has done its work.'
Then hand-in-hand they crept through the doorway sideways, for it was only wide enough to admit one at a time. But no sooner were they well within, the door closing of itself behind them, than they were able to stand abreast, for they found themselves in awide passage. But before looking about them, Hildegarde stopped short for a moment.
'What has become of the little brown paper?' she said. 'Perhaps there was something else on it.'
Leonore shook her head.
'I don't think so,' she said. 'I looked at it well. Is it not in your pocket?'
No, it was not there. It had evidently disappeared, like the contents of Leonore's own nut.
'Then we are meant to find our own way now,' said Hildegarde cheerfully. 'At present there is not much difficulty, for there is plainly only one way to go,' and that was straight before them. The passage was dimly lighted, though how or from where they could not tell, but by degrees, as their eyes grew accustomed to the dusk, they saw that the way sloped downwards, and was a sort of path between rows of curiously twisted pillars or columns at each side. Leonore squeezed Hildegarde's arm.
'What are these things?' she said. 'I don't like them—they look like snakes.'
Her little friend laughed.
'You silly girl,' she replied. 'Don't you see—they are the roots of the trees. We have got right down underneath.'
Leonore stared in wonder.
'I thought their roots were in theearth,' she said.
'Perhaps the earth doesn't go down so far as we thought,' said Hildegarde, 'or perhaps it has been cleared away here to make a path. Yes, I should think that's how it is. But you see, Leonore, if we're getting into Fairyland we must expect to see a good many queer things, not like what we are accustomed to.'
'Of course,' Leonore agreed, her eyes sparkling at the idea. 'I don't think I should really feelsurprisedat anything. But do let us hurry on, Hildegarde.'
They took hands again and ran on. It was quite easy to do so, as there was light enough to see where they were going, and the way still sloped gently downwards. Suddenly Hildegarde stopped.
'Hark!' she exclaimed; 'do you hear that sound, Leonore? What can it be?' for a very soft monotonous sort of whirr was plainly to be distinguished.
'Can it be water?' Leonore was beginning, when Hildegarde interrupted her.
'It is a spinning-wheel,' she whispered eagerly. 'Now, Leonore, our adventures are really beginning.'
Almost as she spoke, they became aware that justin front of them the passage made a turn; and another minute brought them within sight of a kind of niche at one side, within which sat a not altogether unfamiliar figure. It was that of the old dame of the market-place at Alt. She was spinning busily.
The children stopped. They felt her bright eyes fixed upon them, but neither liked to speak. They waited in respectful silence.
'Welcome,' she said at last, while a smile broke over her face. 'I have been expecting you.'
They drew a little nearer.
'Then youarea fairy,' Leonore burst out, 'and it was you I heard laugh on our way here—wasn't it?'
'Never mind about that,' said the dame. 'Tell me what you want.'
'Oh,' said Hildegarde softly, 'you know that better than we do. You know all about us. We want to get to Fairyland, and you can show us the way, can you not?'
To their disappointment and surprise, the dame shook her head. But her words softened the disappointment a little.
'No—not quite that,' she replied. 'Into actual Fairyland itself I cannot take or lead you. No one but yourselves can do that—and,' with a little sigh,'there are but few who ever really penetrate there. It cannot be otherwise. But I can help you and show you a good deal, so do not look sad about it. There are many, many wonderful things to see between this and actual Fairyland.'
At this the little girls brightened up.
'Please tell us,' said Leonore timidly, 'do you always sit here, except when you come up to where we live? And are you always spinning?'
The dame shook her head and smiled again.
'No,' she replied. 'This is only one of my posts. I am here to-day because I expected you. And I spin when I have no other special work to do. We do not love idleness.'
Hildegarde had moved quite close up to her.
'What are you spinning now?' she said softly. Oh, I see—it is cobwebs, is it not?'
'You have good eyes, my child,' said the dame; and so indeed she had, for, but for a certain glistening as the light caught the almost invisible ball of threads, nothing could have been perceived. 'Yes, our fairy looms use a good deal of cobweb yarn—there is nothing like it for our gossamer tissue, nothing that takes such shades of colour.'
Leonore listened with wide-open eyes.
'Oh,' she said beneath her breath, 'I wish I could see it—I——'
'So you shall,' said the dame; 'that is a wish it is easy to grant'; and as she spoke she rose from her seat, giving a touch to the spinning-wheel which made it revolve with double speed, and changed the soft whirr into a louder sound, almost like a note of music. The children stared at the wheel, and in that moment of their attention being distracted the old dame had vanished, and in her stead stood a lovely figure, smiling down upon them.
'Oh,' exclaimed Hildegarde, 'you are my own fairy lady. I remember you now—it was you that gave me the nuts when I was a baby.'
'And I have dreamt of you,' added Leonore eagerly. 'And this is the gossamer—may I touch it?' she went on, softly stroking the gleaming garment which floated round the fairy. 'I canscarcelyfeel it.'
'It says much for you if you feel it at all,' said the lady. 'But now, my children, if you want to see some of the things open to you to visit, you must be on your way. Go straight on till you come to a barred gate—that is one of the doors into gnomeland. Knock and say that the fairy of the spinning-wheel sent you, and asks for you courtesy and kindness.
Leonore looked a very little frightened.
'Is there any fear?' she began. 'Could the gnomes be vexed at our coming?'
Hildegarde turned to her with a little impatience.
'Of course not,' she said, 'if our fairy lady sends us.'