THE FAIRY GIFTUnderthe title of ‘The Four Wishes’ this story was first printed by Mr. Clement Shorter in April 1918, in an edition limited to twenty copies for private circulation only.It was published, with three illustrations, in theStrand Magazine, December 1918, pp. 461-466.The title of ‘The Fairy Gift’ was given to the story by Charlotte Brontë.C. W. H.THE FAIRY GIFTOnecold evening in December 17—, while I was yet but a day labourer, though not even at that time wholly without some aspirations after fame and some intimations of future greatness, I was sitting alone by my cottage fire engaged in ambitious reveries ofl’avenir, and amusing myself with wild and extravagant imaginations. A thousand evanescent wishes flitted through my mind, one of which was scarcely formed when another succeeded it; then a third, equally transitory, and so on.While I was thus employed with building castles in the air my frail edifices were suddenly dissipated by an emphatic ‘Hem!’ I started, and raised my head. Nothing was visible, and, after a few minutes, supposing it to be only fancy, I resumed my occupation of weaving the web of waking visions. Again the ‘Hem!’ was heard; again I looked up, when lo! sitting in the opposite chair I beheld the diminutive figure of a man dressed all in green. With a pretty considerable fluster I demanded his business, and how he had contrived to enter the house without my knowledge.‘I am a fairy,’ he replied, in a shrill voice; ‘but fear nothing; my intentions are not mischievous. On the contrary, I intend to gift you with the power of obtaining four wishes, provided that you wish them at different times; and if you should happen to find the fruition of my theme not equal to your anticipations, still you are at liberty to cast it aside, which you must do before another wish is granted.’When he had concluded this information he gave me a ring, telling me that by the potency of the spell with which it was invested my desires would prove immediately successful.I expressed my gratitude for this gift in the warmest terms, and then inquired how I should dispose of the ring when I had four times arrived at the possession of that which I might wish.‘Come with it at midnight to the little valley in the uplands, a mile hence,’ said he, ‘and there you will be rid of it when it becomes useless.’With these words he vanished from my sight. I stood for some minutes incredulous of the reality of that which I had witnessed, until at last I was convinced by the green-coloured ring set in gold that sparkled in my hand.By some strange influence I had been preserved from any feeling of fear during my conversation with the fairy, but now I began to feel certain doubts and misgivings as to the propriety of having any dealings with supernatural beings. These, however, I soon quelled, and began forthwith to consider what should be the nature of my first wish. After some deliberation I found the desire for beauty was uppermost in my mind, and therefore formed a wish that next morning when I arose I should find myself possessed of surpassing loveliness.That night my dreams were filled with anticipations of future grandeur, but the gay visions which my sleeping fancy called into being were dispelled by the first sounds of morning.I awoke lightsome and refreshed, and springing out of bed glanced half-doubtingly into the small looking-glass which decorated the wall of my apartment, to ascertain if any change for the better had been wrought in me since the preceding night.Never shall I forget the thrill of delighted surprise which passed through me when I beheld my altered appearance. There I stood, tall, slender, and graceful as a young poplar tree, all my limbs moulded in the most perfect and elegant symmetry, my complexion of the purest red and white, my eyes blue and brilliant, swimming in liquid radiance under the narrow dark arches of two exquisitely-formed eyebrows, my mouth of winning sweetness, and, lastly, my hair clustering in rich black curls over a forehead smooth as ivory.In short, I have never yet heard or read of any beauty that could at all equal the splendour of comeliness with which I was at that moment invested.I stood for a long time gazing at myself in a trance of admiration while happiness such as I had never known before overflowed my heart. That day happened to be Sunday, and accordingly I put on my best clothes and proceeded forthwith towards the church. The service had just commenced when I arrived, and as I walked up the aisle to my pew I felt that the eyes of the whole assembly were upon me, and that proud consciousness gave an elasticity to my gait which added stateliness and majesty to my other innumerable graces. Among those who viewed me most attentively was Lady Beatrice Ducie. This personage was the widow of Lord Ducie, owner of the chief part of the village where I resided and nearly all the surrounding land for many miles, who, when he died, left her the whole of his immense estates. She was without children and perfectly at liberty to marry whomsoever she might chance to fix her heart on, and therefore, though her ladyship had passed the meridian of life, was besides fat and ugly, and into the bargain had the reputation of being a witch, I cherished hopes that she might take a liking for me, seeing I was so very handsome; and by making me her spouse raise me at once from indigence to the highest pitch of luxury and affluence.These were my ambitious meditations as I slowly retraced my steps homeward.In the afternoon I again attended church, and again Lady Ducie favoured me with many smiles and glances expressive of her admiration. At length my approaching good fortune was placed beyond a doubt, for while I was standing in the porch after service was over she happened to pass, and inclining her head towards me, said: ‘Come to my house to-morrow at four o’clock.’? I only answered by a low bow and then hastened back to my cottage.On Monday afternoon I dressed myself in my best, and putting a Christmas rose in the buttonhole of my coat, hastened to the appointed rendezvous.When I entered the avenue of Ducie Castle a footman in rich livery stopped me and requested me to follow him. I complied, and we proceeded down a long walk to a bower of evergreens, where sat her ladyship in a pensive posture. Her stout, lusty figure was arrayed in a robe of purest white muslin, elegantly embroidered. On her head she wore an elaborately curled wig, among which borrowed tresses was twined a wreath of artificial flowers, and her brawny shoulders were enveloped in a costly Indian shawl. At my approach she arose and saluted me. I returned the compliment, and when we were seated, and the footman had withdrawn, business summarily commenced by her tendering me the possession of her hand and heart, both which offers, of course, I willingly accepted.Three weeks after, we were married in the parish church by special licence, amidst the rejoicings of her numerous tenantry, to whom a sumptuous entertainment was that day given.I now entered upon a new scene of life. Every object which met my eyes spoke of opulence and grandeur. Every meal of which I partook seemed to me a luxurious feast. As I wandered through the vast halls and magnificent apartments of my new residence I felt my heart dilating with gratified pride at the thought that they were my own.Towards the obsequious domestics that thronged around me I behaved with the utmost respect and deference, being impelled thereto by a feeling of awe inspired by their superior breeding and splendid appearance.I was now constantly encompassed by visitors from among those who moved in the highest circles of society. My time was passed in the enjoyment of all sorts of pleasures; balls, concerts, and dinners were given almost every day at the castle in honour of our wedding. My evenings were spent in hearing music, or seeing dancing and gormandising; my days in excursions over the country, either on horseback or in a carriage.Yet, notwithstanding all this, I was not happy. The rooms were so numerous that I was often lost in my own house, and sometimes got into awkward predicaments in attempting to find some particular apartment. Our high-bred guests despised me for my clownish manners and deportment. I was forced to bear patiently the most humiliating jokes and sneers from noble lips. My own servants insulted me with impunity; and, finally, my wife’s temper showed itself every day more and more in the most hideous light. She became terribly jealous, and would hardly suffer me to go out of her sight a moment. In short, before the end of three months I sincerely wished myself separated from her and reduced again to the situation of a plain and coarse but honest and contented ploughboy.This separation was occasioned by the following incident sooner than I expected. At a party which we gave one evening there chanced to be present a young lady named Cecilia Standon. She possessed no mean share of beauty, and had besides the most graceful demeanour I ever saw. Her manner was kind, gentle, and obliging, without any of that haughty superciliousness which so annoyed me in others of my fashionable acquaintances. If I made a foolish observation or transgressed against the rules of politeness she did not give vent to her contempt in a laugh or suppressed titter, but informed me in a whisper what I ought to have done, and instructed me how to do it.When she was gone I remarked to my wife what a kind and excellent lady Miss Cecilia Standon was. ‘Yes,’ exclaimed she, reddening, ‘every one can please you but me. Don’t think to elude my vigilance, I saw you talking and laughing with her, you low-born creature whom I raised from obscurity to splendour. And yet not one spark of gratitude do you feel towards me. But I will have my revenge.’ So saying she left me to meditate alone on what that revenge might be.The same night, as I lay in bed restless, I heard suddenly a noise of footsteps outside the chamber door. Compelled by irresistible curiosity, I rose and opened it without making any sound. My surprise was great on beholding the figure of my wife stealing along on tiptoe with her back towards me, and a lighted candle in her hand. Anxious to know what could be her motive for walking about the house at this time of night I followed softly, taking care to time my steps so as to coincide with hers.After proceeding along many passages and galleries which I had never before seen, we descended a very long staircase that led us underneath the coal and wine cellars to a damp, subterraneous vault. Here she stopped and deposited the candle on the ground. I shrank instinctively, for the purpose of concealment, behind a massive stone pillar which upheld the arched roof on one side.The rumours which I had often heard of her being a witch passed with painful distinctness across my mind, and I trembled violently. Presently she knelt with folded hands and began to mutter some indistinguishable words in a strange tone. Flames now darted out of the earth, and huge smouldering clouds of smoke rolled over the slimy walls, concealing their hideousness from the eye.At length the dead silence that had hitherto reigned unbroken was dissipated by a tremendous cry which shook the house to its centre, and I saw six black, indefinable figures gliding through the darkness bearing a funeral bier on which lay arranged, as I had seen her the previous evening, the form of Cecilia Standon. Her dark eyes were closed, and their long lashes lay motionless on a cheek pale as marble. She was quite stiff and dead.At this appalling sight I could restrain myself no longer, and uttering a loud shriek I sprang from behind the pillar. My wife saw me. She started from her kneeling position, and rushed furiously towards where I stood, exclaiming in tones rendered tremulous by excessive fury: ‘Wretch, wretch, what demon has lured thee hither to thy fate?’ With these words she seized me by the throat and attempted to strangle me.I screamed and struggled in vain. Life was ebbing apace when suddenly she loosened her grasp, tottered, and fell dead.When I was sufficiently recovered from the effects of her infernal grip to look around I saw by the light of the candle a little man in a green coat striding over her and flourishing a bloody dagger in the air. In his sharp, wild physiognomy I immediately recognised the fairy who six months ago had given me the ring.That was the occasion of my present situation. He had stabbed my wife through the heart, and thus afforded me opportune relief at the moment when I so much needed it.After tendering him my most ardent thanks for his kindness I ventured to ask what we should do with the dead body.‘Leave that to me,’ he replied. ‘But now as the day is dawning, and I must soon be gone, do you wish to return to your former rank of a happy, honest labourer, being deprived of the beauty which has been the source of so much trouble to you, or will you remain as you are? Decide quickly, for my time is limited.’I replied unhesitatingly, ‘Let me return to my former rank,’ and no sooner were the words out of my mouth than I found myself standing alone at the porch of my humble cottage, plain and coarse as ever, without any remains of the extreme comeliness with which I had been so lately invested.I cast a glance at the tall towers of Ducie Castle which appeared in the distance faintly illuminated by the light reflected from rosy clouds hovering over the eastern horizon, and then, stooping as I passed beneath the lowly lintel, once more crossed the threshold of my parental hut.A day or two after, while I was sitting at breakfast; a neighbour entered and, after inquiring how I did, etc., asked me where I had been for the last half year. Seeing it necessary to dissemble, I answered that I had been on a visit to a relation who lived at a great distance. This satisfied him, and I then inquired if anything had happened in the village since my departure.‘Yes,’ said he, ‘a little while after you were gone Lady Ducie married the handsomest young man that was ever seen, but nobody knew where he came from, and most people thought he was a fairy; and now about four days ago Lady Ducie, her husband, and Lord Standon’s eldest daughter all vanished in the same night and have never been heard of since, though the strictest search has been made after them. Yesterday her ladyship’s brother came and took possession of the estate, and he is trying to hush up the matter as much as he can.’This intelligence gave me no small degree of satisfaction, as I was now certain that none of the villagers had any suspicion of my dealings with the fairy.But to proceed. I had yet liberty to make three more wishes; and, after much consideration, being convinced of the vanity of desiring such a transitory thing as my first, I fixed upon ‘superior talent’ as the aim of my second wish; and no sooner had I done so than I felt an expansion, as it were, of soul within me.Everything appeared to my mental vision in a new light. High thoughts elevated my mind, and abstruse meditations racked my brain continually. But you shall presently hear the upshot of this sudden éclaircissement.One day I was sent to a neighbouring market town, by one Mr. Tenderden, a gentleman of some consequence in our village, for the purpose of buying several articles in glass and china.When I had made my purchases I directed them to be packed up in straw, and then with the basket on my back trudged off homeward. But ere I was half-way night overtook me. There was no moon, and the darkness was also much increased by a small mizzling rain. Cold and drenched to the skin, I arrived at The Rising Sun, a little wayside inn, which lay in my route.On opening the door my eyes were agreeably saluted by the light of a bright warm fire, round which sat about half a dozen of my acquaintance.After calling for a drop of something to warm me, and carefully depositing the basket of glass on the ground, I seated myself amongst them. They were engaged in a discussion as to whether a monarchical or republican form of government was the best. The chief champion of the republican side was Bob Sylvester, a blacksmith by trade, and of the largest loquacity of any man I ever saw. He was proud of his argumentative talents, but by dint of my fairy gift I soon silenced him, amid cheers from both sides of the house.Bob was a man of hot temper, and not calculated for lying down quietly under a defeat. He therefore rose and challenged me to single combat. I accepted, and a regular battle ensued. After some hard hits he closed in furiously, and-dealt me a tremendous left-handed blow. I staggered, reeled, and fell insensible. The last thing I remember was a horrible crash as if the house was tumbling in about my ears.When I recovered my senses I was laid in bed in my own house, all cut, bruised, and bloody. I was soon given to understand that the basket of glass was broken, and Mr. Tenderden, being a miserly, hard-hearted man, made me stand to the loss, which was upwards of five pounds.When I was able to walk about again I determined to get rid of my ring forthwith in the manner the fairy had pointed out, seeing that it brought me nothing but ill-luck.It was a fine clear night in October when I reached the little valley in the uplands before mentioned. There was a gentle frost, and the stars were twinkling with the lustre of diamonds in a sky of deep and cloudless azure. A chill breeze whistled dreamily in the gusty passes of the hills that surrounded the vale, but I wrapped my cloak around me and standing in a sheltered nook boldly awaited the event.After about half an hour of dead silence I heard a sound as of many voices weeping and lamenting at a distance. This continued for some time until it was interrupted by another voice, seemingly close at hand. I started at the contiguity of the sound, and looked on every side, but nothing was visible. Still the strain kept rising and drawing nearer. At length the following words, sung in a melancholy though harmonious tone, became distinctly audible:—Hearken, O Mortal! to the wailWhich round the wandering night-winds fling,Soft-sighing ’neath the moonbeams pale,How low! how old! its murmuring!No other voice, no other tone,Disturbs the silence deep;All, saving that prophetic moan,Are hushed in quiet sleep.The moon and each small lustrous star,That journey through the boundless sky,Seem, as their radiance from afarFalls on the still earth silently,To weep the fresh descending dewThat decks with gems the world:Sweet teardrops of the glorious blueAbove us wide unfurled.But, hark! again the sighing wailUpon the rising breeze doth swell.Oh! hasten from this haunted vale,Mournful as a funeral knell!For here, when gloomy midnight reigns,The fairies form their ring,And, unto wild unearthly strains,In measured cadence sing.No human eye their sports may see,No human tongue their deeds reveal;The sweetness of their melodyThe ear of man may never feel.But now the elfin horn resounds,No longer mayst thou stay;Near and more near the music sounds,Then, Mortal, haste away!Here I certainly heard the music of a very sweet and mellow horn. At that instant the ring which I held in my hand melted and became like a drop of dew, which trickled down my fingers and falling on the dead leaves spread around, vanished.Having now no further business I immediately quitted the valley and returned home…Being very tired and sleepy I retired to bed. As I have no doubt my reader is by this time in much the same state, I bid him good-bye.Charlotte Brontë,December 18th, 1830.FromVisits in Verreopolis, vol.II. chap. ii., by the Honourable Charles Albert Florian, Lord Wellesley, aged ten years. Published by Sergeant Bud. The tale is related by, and is a passage from the early life of, Captain Bud, the father of the fictitious publisher.—C. W. H.
Underthe title of ‘The Four Wishes’ this story was first printed by Mr. Clement Shorter in April 1918, in an edition limited to twenty copies for private circulation only.It was published, with three illustrations, in theStrand Magazine, December 1918, pp. 461-466.The title of ‘The Fairy Gift’ was given to the story by Charlotte Brontë.C. W. H.
Underthe title of ‘The Four Wishes’ this story was first printed by Mr. Clement Shorter in April 1918, in an edition limited to twenty copies for private circulation only.
It was published, with three illustrations, in theStrand Magazine, December 1918, pp. 461-466.
The title of ‘The Fairy Gift’ was given to the story by Charlotte Brontë.
C. W. H.
THE FAIRY GIFT
Onecold evening in December 17—, while I was yet but a day labourer, though not even at that time wholly without some aspirations after fame and some intimations of future greatness, I was sitting alone by my cottage fire engaged in ambitious reveries ofl’avenir, and amusing myself with wild and extravagant imaginations. A thousand evanescent wishes flitted through my mind, one of which was scarcely formed when another succeeded it; then a third, equally transitory, and so on.
While I was thus employed with building castles in the air my frail edifices were suddenly dissipated by an emphatic ‘Hem!’ I started, and raised my head. Nothing was visible, and, after a few minutes, supposing it to be only fancy, I resumed my occupation of weaving the web of waking visions. Again the ‘Hem!’ was heard; again I looked up, when lo! sitting in the opposite chair I beheld the diminutive figure of a man dressed all in green. With a pretty considerable fluster I demanded his business, and how he had contrived to enter the house without my knowledge.
‘I am a fairy,’ he replied, in a shrill voice; ‘but fear nothing; my intentions are not mischievous. On the contrary, I intend to gift you with the power of obtaining four wishes, provided that you wish them at different times; and if you should happen to find the fruition of my theme not equal to your anticipations, still you are at liberty to cast it aside, which you must do before another wish is granted.’
When he had concluded this information he gave me a ring, telling me that by the potency of the spell with which it was invested my desires would prove immediately successful.
I expressed my gratitude for this gift in the warmest terms, and then inquired how I should dispose of the ring when I had four times arrived at the possession of that which I might wish.
‘Come with it at midnight to the little valley in the uplands, a mile hence,’ said he, ‘and there you will be rid of it when it becomes useless.’
With these words he vanished from my sight. I stood for some minutes incredulous of the reality of that which I had witnessed, until at last I was convinced by the green-coloured ring set in gold that sparkled in my hand.
By some strange influence I had been preserved from any feeling of fear during my conversation with the fairy, but now I began to feel certain doubts and misgivings as to the propriety of having any dealings with supernatural beings. These, however, I soon quelled, and began forthwith to consider what should be the nature of my first wish. After some deliberation I found the desire for beauty was uppermost in my mind, and therefore formed a wish that next morning when I arose I should find myself possessed of surpassing loveliness.
That night my dreams were filled with anticipations of future grandeur, but the gay visions which my sleeping fancy called into being were dispelled by the first sounds of morning.
I awoke lightsome and refreshed, and springing out of bed glanced half-doubtingly into the small looking-glass which decorated the wall of my apartment, to ascertain if any change for the better had been wrought in me since the preceding night.
Never shall I forget the thrill of delighted surprise which passed through me when I beheld my altered appearance. There I stood, tall, slender, and graceful as a young poplar tree, all my limbs moulded in the most perfect and elegant symmetry, my complexion of the purest red and white, my eyes blue and brilliant, swimming in liquid radiance under the narrow dark arches of two exquisitely-formed eyebrows, my mouth of winning sweetness, and, lastly, my hair clustering in rich black curls over a forehead smooth as ivory.
In short, I have never yet heard or read of any beauty that could at all equal the splendour of comeliness with which I was at that moment invested.
I stood for a long time gazing at myself in a trance of admiration while happiness such as I had never known before overflowed my heart. That day happened to be Sunday, and accordingly I put on my best clothes and proceeded forthwith towards the church. The service had just commenced when I arrived, and as I walked up the aisle to my pew I felt that the eyes of the whole assembly were upon me, and that proud consciousness gave an elasticity to my gait which added stateliness and majesty to my other innumerable graces. Among those who viewed me most attentively was Lady Beatrice Ducie. This personage was the widow of Lord Ducie, owner of the chief part of the village where I resided and nearly all the surrounding land for many miles, who, when he died, left her the whole of his immense estates. She was without children and perfectly at liberty to marry whomsoever she might chance to fix her heart on, and therefore, though her ladyship had passed the meridian of life, was besides fat and ugly, and into the bargain had the reputation of being a witch, I cherished hopes that she might take a liking for me, seeing I was so very handsome; and by making me her spouse raise me at once from indigence to the highest pitch of luxury and affluence.
These were my ambitious meditations as I slowly retraced my steps homeward.
In the afternoon I again attended church, and again Lady Ducie favoured me with many smiles and glances expressive of her admiration. At length my approaching good fortune was placed beyond a doubt, for while I was standing in the porch after service was over she happened to pass, and inclining her head towards me, said: ‘Come to my house to-morrow at four o’clock.’? I only answered by a low bow and then hastened back to my cottage.
On Monday afternoon I dressed myself in my best, and putting a Christmas rose in the buttonhole of my coat, hastened to the appointed rendezvous.
When I entered the avenue of Ducie Castle a footman in rich livery stopped me and requested me to follow him. I complied, and we proceeded down a long walk to a bower of evergreens, where sat her ladyship in a pensive posture. Her stout, lusty figure was arrayed in a robe of purest white muslin, elegantly embroidered. On her head she wore an elaborately curled wig, among which borrowed tresses was twined a wreath of artificial flowers, and her brawny shoulders were enveloped in a costly Indian shawl. At my approach she arose and saluted me. I returned the compliment, and when we were seated, and the footman had withdrawn, business summarily commenced by her tendering me the possession of her hand and heart, both which offers, of course, I willingly accepted.
Three weeks after, we were married in the parish church by special licence, amidst the rejoicings of her numerous tenantry, to whom a sumptuous entertainment was that day given.
I now entered upon a new scene of life. Every object which met my eyes spoke of opulence and grandeur. Every meal of which I partook seemed to me a luxurious feast. As I wandered through the vast halls and magnificent apartments of my new residence I felt my heart dilating with gratified pride at the thought that they were my own.
Towards the obsequious domestics that thronged around me I behaved with the utmost respect and deference, being impelled thereto by a feeling of awe inspired by their superior breeding and splendid appearance.
I was now constantly encompassed by visitors from among those who moved in the highest circles of society. My time was passed in the enjoyment of all sorts of pleasures; balls, concerts, and dinners were given almost every day at the castle in honour of our wedding. My evenings were spent in hearing music, or seeing dancing and gormandising; my days in excursions over the country, either on horseback or in a carriage.
Yet, notwithstanding all this, I was not happy. The rooms were so numerous that I was often lost in my own house, and sometimes got into awkward predicaments in attempting to find some particular apartment. Our high-bred guests despised me for my clownish manners and deportment. I was forced to bear patiently the most humiliating jokes and sneers from noble lips. My own servants insulted me with impunity; and, finally, my wife’s temper showed itself every day more and more in the most hideous light. She became terribly jealous, and would hardly suffer me to go out of her sight a moment. In short, before the end of three months I sincerely wished myself separated from her and reduced again to the situation of a plain and coarse but honest and contented ploughboy.
This separation was occasioned by the following incident sooner than I expected. At a party which we gave one evening there chanced to be present a young lady named Cecilia Standon. She possessed no mean share of beauty, and had besides the most graceful demeanour I ever saw. Her manner was kind, gentle, and obliging, without any of that haughty superciliousness which so annoyed me in others of my fashionable acquaintances. If I made a foolish observation or transgressed against the rules of politeness she did not give vent to her contempt in a laugh or suppressed titter, but informed me in a whisper what I ought to have done, and instructed me how to do it.
When she was gone I remarked to my wife what a kind and excellent lady Miss Cecilia Standon was. ‘Yes,’ exclaimed she, reddening, ‘every one can please you but me. Don’t think to elude my vigilance, I saw you talking and laughing with her, you low-born creature whom I raised from obscurity to splendour. And yet not one spark of gratitude do you feel towards me. But I will have my revenge.’ So saying she left me to meditate alone on what that revenge might be.
The same night, as I lay in bed restless, I heard suddenly a noise of footsteps outside the chamber door. Compelled by irresistible curiosity, I rose and opened it without making any sound. My surprise was great on beholding the figure of my wife stealing along on tiptoe with her back towards me, and a lighted candle in her hand. Anxious to know what could be her motive for walking about the house at this time of night I followed softly, taking care to time my steps so as to coincide with hers.
After proceeding along many passages and galleries which I had never before seen, we descended a very long staircase that led us underneath the coal and wine cellars to a damp, subterraneous vault. Here she stopped and deposited the candle on the ground. I shrank instinctively, for the purpose of concealment, behind a massive stone pillar which upheld the arched roof on one side.
The rumours which I had often heard of her being a witch passed with painful distinctness across my mind, and I trembled violently. Presently she knelt with folded hands and began to mutter some indistinguishable words in a strange tone. Flames now darted out of the earth, and huge smouldering clouds of smoke rolled over the slimy walls, concealing their hideousness from the eye.
At length the dead silence that had hitherto reigned unbroken was dissipated by a tremendous cry which shook the house to its centre, and I saw six black, indefinable figures gliding through the darkness bearing a funeral bier on which lay arranged, as I had seen her the previous evening, the form of Cecilia Standon. Her dark eyes were closed, and their long lashes lay motionless on a cheek pale as marble. She was quite stiff and dead.
At this appalling sight I could restrain myself no longer, and uttering a loud shriek I sprang from behind the pillar. My wife saw me. She started from her kneeling position, and rushed furiously towards where I stood, exclaiming in tones rendered tremulous by excessive fury: ‘Wretch, wretch, what demon has lured thee hither to thy fate?’ With these words she seized me by the throat and attempted to strangle me.
I screamed and struggled in vain. Life was ebbing apace when suddenly she loosened her grasp, tottered, and fell dead.
When I was sufficiently recovered from the effects of her infernal grip to look around I saw by the light of the candle a little man in a green coat striding over her and flourishing a bloody dagger in the air. In his sharp, wild physiognomy I immediately recognised the fairy who six months ago had given me the ring.
That was the occasion of my present situation. He had stabbed my wife through the heart, and thus afforded me opportune relief at the moment when I so much needed it.
After tendering him my most ardent thanks for his kindness I ventured to ask what we should do with the dead body.
‘Leave that to me,’ he replied. ‘But now as the day is dawning, and I must soon be gone, do you wish to return to your former rank of a happy, honest labourer, being deprived of the beauty which has been the source of so much trouble to you, or will you remain as you are? Decide quickly, for my time is limited.’
I replied unhesitatingly, ‘Let me return to my former rank,’ and no sooner were the words out of my mouth than I found myself standing alone at the porch of my humble cottage, plain and coarse as ever, without any remains of the extreme comeliness with which I had been so lately invested.
I cast a glance at the tall towers of Ducie Castle which appeared in the distance faintly illuminated by the light reflected from rosy clouds hovering over the eastern horizon, and then, stooping as I passed beneath the lowly lintel, once more crossed the threshold of my parental hut.
A day or two after, while I was sitting at breakfast; a neighbour entered and, after inquiring how I did, etc., asked me where I had been for the last half year. Seeing it necessary to dissemble, I answered that I had been on a visit to a relation who lived at a great distance. This satisfied him, and I then inquired if anything had happened in the village since my departure.
‘Yes,’ said he, ‘a little while after you were gone Lady Ducie married the handsomest young man that was ever seen, but nobody knew where he came from, and most people thought he was a fairy; and now about four days ago Lady Ducie, her husband, and Lord Standon’s eldest daughter all vanished in the same night and have never been heard of since, though the strictest search has been made after them. Yesterday her ladyship’s brother came and took possession of the estate, and he is trying to hush up the matter as much as he can.’
This intelligence gave me no small degree of satisfaction, as I was now certain that none of the villagers had any suspicion of my dealings with the fairy.
But to proceed. I had yet liberty to make three more wishes; and, after much consideration, being convinced of the vanity of desiring such a transitory thing as my first, I fixed upon ‘superior talent’ as the aim of my second wish; and no sooner had I done so than I felt an expansion, as it were, of soul within me.
Everything appeared to my mental vision in a new light. High thoughts elevated my mind, and abstruse meditations racked my brain continually. But you shall presently hear the upshot of this sudden éclaircissement.
One day I was sent to a neighbouring market town, by one Mr. Tenderden, a gentleman of some consequence in our village, for the purpose of buying several articles in glass and china.
When I had made my purchases I directed them to be packed up in straw, and then with the basket on my back trudged off homeward. But ere I was half-way night overtook me. There was no moon, and the darkness was also much increased by a small mizzling rain. Cold and drenched to the skin, I arrived at The Rising Sun, a little wayside inn, which lay in my route.
On opening the door my eyes were agreeably saluted by the light of a bright warm fire, round which sat about half a dozen of my acquaintance.
After calling for a drop of something to warm me, and carefully depositing the basket of glass on the ground, I seated myself amongst them. They were engaged in a discussion as to whether a monarchical or republican form of government was the best. The chief champion of the republican side was Bob Sylvester, a blacksmith by trade, and of the largest loquacity of any man I ever saw. He was proud of his argumentative talents, but by dint of my fairy gift I soon silenced him, amid cheers from both sides of the house.
Bob was a man of hot temper, and not calculated for lying down quietly under a defeat. He therefore rose and challenged me to single combat. I accepted, and a regular battle ensued. After some hard hits he closed in furiously, and-dealt me a tremendous left-handed blow. I staggered, reeled, and fell insensible. The last thing I remember was a horrible crash as if the house was tumbling in about my ears.
When I recovered my senses I was laid in bed in my own house, all cut, bruised, and bloody. I was soon given to understand that the basket of glass was broken, and Mr. Tenderden, being a miserly, hard-hearted man, made me stand to the loss, which was upwards of five pounds.
When I was able to walk about again I determined to get rid of my ring forthwith in the manner the fairy had pointed out, seeing that it brought me nothing but ill-luck.
It was a fine clear night in October when I reached the little valley in the uplands before mentioned. There was a gentle frost, and the stars were twinkling with the lustre of diamonds in a sky of deep and cloudless azure. A chill breeze whistled dreamily in the gusty passes of the hills that surrounded the vale, but I wrapped my cloak around me and standing in a sheltered nook boldly awaited the event.
After about half an hour of dead silence I heard a sound as of many voices weeping and lamenting at a distance. This continued for some time until it was interrupted by another voice, seemingly close at hand. I started at the contiguity of the sound, and looked on every side, but nothing was visible. Still the strain kept rising and drawing nearer. At length the following words, sung in a melancholy though harmonious tone, became distinctly audible:—
Hearken, O Mortal! to the wailWhich round the wandering night-winds fling,Soft-sighing ’neath the moonbeams pale,How low! how old! its murmuring!No other voice, no other tone,Disturbs the silence deep;All, saving that prophetic moan,Are hushed in quiet sleep.The moon and each small lustrous star,That journey through the boundless sky,Seem, as their radiance from afarFalls on the still earth silently,To weep the fresh descending dewThat decks with gems the world:Sweet teardrops of the glorious blueAbove us wide unfurled.But, hark! again the sighing wailUpon the rising breeze doth swell.Oh! hasten from this haunted vale,Mournful as a funeral knell!For here, when gloomy midnight reigns,The fairies form their ring,And, unto wild unearthly strains,In measured cadence sing.No human eye their sports may see,No human tongue their deeds reveal;The sweetness of their melodyThe ear of man may never feel.But now the elfin horn resounds,No longer mayst thou stay;Near and more near the music sounds,Then, Mortal, haste away!
Here I certainly heard the music of a very sweet and mellow horn. At that instant the ring which I held in my hand melted and became like a drop of dew, which trickled down my fingers and falling on the dead leaves spread around, vanished.
Having now no further business I immediately quitted the valley and returned home…
Being very tired and sleepy I retired to bed. As I have no doubt my reader is by this time in much the same state, I bid him good-bye.
Charlotte Brontë,
December 18th, 1830.
FromVisits in Verreopolis, vol.II. chap. ii., by the Honourable Charles Albert Florian, Lord Wellesley, aged ten years. Published by Sergeant Bud. The tale is related by, and is a passage from the early life of, Captain Bud, the father of the fictitious publisher.—C. W. H.