HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET

The violets whom she had tended so lovingly were very sorry for her grief, and shook their heads gently in the breeze, till their fragrance filled the air, and stole softly round the weeping fairy. But though they comforted, they could not help her. Presently she rose, and glided swiftly through the tall grass, till she reached the flower where the blue robed fairy was resting after her day's work.

"Oh, sister Blue Bell," she cried, "I have lost my wings! Where shall I get another pair, that I may fly back to fairy-land with you and my sisters when our work is done?" Then Bluebell shook her head sorrowfully, till all her sweet bells chimed—"I am sorry! I am sorry!" but she could not help her sister Violet.

"Perhaps Cowslip will know," she suggested.

But Cowslip bade her try what Woodsorrel would say, and Woodsorrel thought perhaps Kingcup might know, so Violet[6] went about from one to another, till she was ready to cry again with vexation.

Then all the fairies gathered round her and tried to comfort her.

"Let us ask the owl that sits in the hollow oak," said the gentle Anenome, gliding to Violet's side; "he must be very wise, for he never smiles, and seldom speaks more than three words at a time."

So that night, when the moon lit her silver lamp in the sky, instead of dancing, as was their wont, with the elves upon the greensward, they all repaired to the hollow oak to seek an audience of the owl. They had to repeat their errand two or three times before he understood it, for the owl was as slow of understanding as he was of speech, and then, having nodded his head solemnly for five minutes, and winked and blinked for quite ten, he said solemnly:—

"Try the King of the Fire Spirits!"

After which he relapsed into silence, and obstinately refused to say any more. Then the Fairy Violet bade farewell to all her friends, and set out on her journey to the King of the Fire Spirits. She had a long way to go, for the Fire-King held his court in the very centre of the earth, and she might have lost herself in the dark passages had not the glowworm lent her his lamp. She had saved him once when a hungry bird would have carried him off in her beak, and from that time the glowworm had loved the gentle fairy, and always burned brightest when she was by.

The Fairy Violet travelled very quickly, scarcely touching her feet to the ground, but passing onward with a swift gliding motion that was very beautiful; still it was three days and three nights before[7] she reached the kingdom of the Fire Spirits, for she had four thousand miles to go.

Had she not been a fairy, she must have been scorched to death as she entered the Fire-King's domain, for the streets were paved with molten iron, and flames kept bursting forth in all directions, in which she could perceive strange wild figures, some leaping to and fro in mad fantastic glee, playing at ball with lumps of burning coal; others manufacturing volcanic fire in their monstrous furnaces.

They ceased their employment when they saw Violet, and came and knelt before her in wondering admiration. She looked so beautiful as she came floating towards them in her soft violet robe, with her fair hair rippling in golden waves to her very feet, that they thought she must be an angel who had strayed down from among the bright stars to their gloomy dwelling-place, for they had never seen a fairy before.

They were moved with compassion when they heard her sad tale, and at once led her before their King, who was seated on a throne of molten gold, with red and yellow flames curling up and arching over him for a canopy, and a crown of fire on his head. He looked rather fierce, but received Violet very graciously, and at once ordered his head blacksmith to make the little fairy a new pair of wings. Violet was a little startled when she found that these were made of fire, and were to be fastened on her shoulders with bands of liquid gold, but the King assured her that they were the very best of their kind.

"There is nothing so powerful as fire," he cried, with a fierce exultant laugh; waving his fiery sceptre in the burning atmosphere so wildly, that though Violet thought he had been very kind to her,[8] and bade him a very grateful farewell, she was yet not at all sorry to be safely out of his domains.

How fresh and green the earth looked as she emerged from the dark caverns that led to the Fire-King's palace, and rested her hot feet on the cool grass! But when eager to tell her friends of her success, she began to try the Fire-King's present, a general cry of dismay and terror broke forth.

"Sister Violet, you are killing our flowers," cried the fairies, reproachfully.

"Oh, I am burning! I am burning!" shrieked the grass.

"Cruel fairy! you have killed us!" murmured the insects, as, with scorched wings, they fell helpless to the ground.

"Alas!" said Violet weeping, "I am bringing death and destruction wherever I go. I will fly back to fairy-land before I work more mischief."

But the birds looked down from their nests wild with terror at the thought.

"You will kill us if you fly up here with your burning wings," they chirped piteously. "You will scorch us to death," shouted the trees, tossing their heads angrily in the breeze.

"Ah, gentle fairy, have pity on us!" cooed the dove; "did I not comfort you when your pet violet died?"

"Have I not sung to you at night when you were weary with dancing?" warbled the nightingale.

"Have we not sheltered you from the fierce heat of the sun, and the beating of the pitiless rain?" rustled the trees, indignantly.

"Heartless!" muttered the wind, rushing rudely past her; "to injure those who love you so much."[9]

"I shall never see fairy-land again!" murmured Violet. But she had too gentle a heart to persist, so she sadly retraced her steps, and bade the Fire-King take back his fatal gift.

That evening, she and her sister fairies went to the owl and told him of the ill success of her mission. The owl heard her to the end with great gravity, and then said, severely: "Of course! Anyone with any sense would have known that wings forged by the Fire Spirits must burn everything they touched."

Violet would have liked to remind him that it was he who bade her go to the King of the Fire Spirits, but he looked so very severe, as he sat blinking solemnly in the moonlight, that she was afraid, and only said, humbly—

"Please what shall I do now?"

"Go to the King of the Snow Spirits, of course!" said the owl, rather crossly, for he wanted to go to sleep; "if fire is too hot, you had better try snow."

"Alas! what shall I do?" said Violet, very sadly. "The Snow-King lives far off by the North Pole, and I have no wings to bear me to him over the seas."

Then a gentle fluttering was heard in the trees, and a sea-bird alighted at Violet's feet.

"Beautiful fairy," he sang, softly, "do you not remember now, three springs ago, when the trees were clothing themselves anew in their green raiment, and the flowers were springing up among the fresh grass, you bound up my leg, which the hunter had wounded with his cruel gun; and fed me daily with luscious fruits, and gave me to drink of sparkling dew till I recovered? I vowed then that I would[10] one day repay you, and now my chance has come. Mount on my back, sweet Violet, and I will carry you to the Snow-King."

Then Violet thanked him joyfully, and seated herself on his back; and the sea-bird flew away with her far over the hills and vales, and pleasant fields, and beyond the great ocean till he reached the palace of the Snow-King.

The Palace was built of blocks of ice, filled in with snow, and arched over with a graceful snowdrift for a roof; while lofty colonnades of snow, supported by pillars of ice, led the way to the audience chamber, which glistened with diamonds and crystals of the most sparkling brilliancy. The Snow-King wore on his head a crown of ice-diamonds, while from his shoulders hung gracefully a pure white cloak, fringed with glittering icicles and fastened at the neck with a crystal brooch.

Violet shivered a little as she entered this coldly beautiful palace, for she was accustomed to bask all day long in the warm sunshine, and had never trod on anything colder than the soft grass; but she quickly recovered herself, and gliding with a swift graceful movement to the foot of the Snow-King's throne, she bent on one knee before him, and told him for what she had come.

Then the Snow-King looked kindly upon the little fairy, and raised her gently with his ice-cold hands.

"Beautiful fairy," he said, "you are the first of your race who ever visited my kingdom, and never have I seen aught so radiantly lovely before. Your wish is granted, I only would it were twice as costly;" and, turning to the snow-spirits, who were gathering lovingly round the bright being who had ventured so boldly into their ice-[11]bound regions, he bade them mould wings of the purest and most delicate snow for their fairy visitant. Then the King lay back on his throne, and looked at the sweet modest face of the little fairy, and at her graceful form, with the bright hair rippling in sunny waves over the violet robe, till, moved by some sudden impulse, he came and knelt down at Violet's feet.

"Sweet fairy," he said, as Violet turned her wondering eyes upon him, "I have long ruled as monarch among my Snow-Spirits, and I have been very proud of the cold splendour of my palace, with its glittering crystals and pillars of ice, and I have laughed when the Fire-King has taunted me from afar with its lack of warmth and colour, for I cared not for either; but now it seems to me that the bright gleam of your golden hair, and the warm glow of your violet robe, are far more beautiful than my ice-diamonds and sparkling crystals, and that my palace will be very bleak and desolate when you have gone. Stay with us, gentle fairy, and be my queen!"

Then all the Snow-Spirits gathered eagerly round Violet, and cried, "Stay with us, and be our Queen!"

Violet shivered as their icy-breath blew upon her, and her hand grew cold in the Snow-King's frozen clasp; but she turned to him, and said, very gently, for she was sorry to give him pain, "I cannot leave my beautiful fairy-land to become your Queen. I should pine away in your beautiful ice-palace, for I love the warm sunshine and the bright flowers, and the soft breath of balmy spring, and this cold air would kill me. So do not ask me again, noble King, for I cannot say yes, and it grieves me to say no."

Then the Snow-King urged her no more, but went back to his throne, and watched her with such sad, wistful eyes, that Violet's[12] heart ached, and she was glad when they brought her the wings that she might fly away.

They were very beautiful, made of soft feathery snow, and fastened to her shoulders with crystal buckles.

Violet knelt down and kissed the King's hand, thanking him gratefully for his kindness, and praying him to forgive her any pain she had caused him; and then flew away side by side with her faithful bird. The Snow-King watched her till the bright sheen of her hair, and the soft flutter of her wings could no longer be seen, and then turned back, sad and lonely, to his palace.

But Violet was very happy; "I shall see fairy-land again; bright, beautiful fairy-land!" she sang softly to herself over and over.

But when the frozen seas were past, and she was hovering once more above the land, the sun shone full upon her, the snow-wings melted away, and she fell helplessly to the ground.

"Dear Violet, are you hurt?" asked the Fairy Anenome, by whose side she had fallen. But Violet could not speak. She hid her face in Anenome's white robe, and wept bitterly.

"Dear sister Violet," said Anenome, winding her arms lovingly round the weeping fairy, "be comforted. This night we will go together and seek an audience of the Owl. Perhaps he will give us wiser counsel this time."

"The Owl only mocks me," said Violet; "I will not ask counsel from him again."

Then Anenome was silent, for she knew not what else to advise, and only tried to show her pity by tender words and caresses. But Fairy Kingcup lifted up her bright face, and said, cheerily:[13]—

"Why not try the Wizard of the Black Rock? He lives a long way off, but he is the wisest magician that ever lived; and if any one can help our sister Violet, it is he."

Violet shook her head sorrowfully.

"I do not know the way," she said.

"I will lead you," hummed a bee, from the deep cup of a cowslip.

"And I will sing you my merriest songs to cheer you by the way," warbled a thrush, circling lovingly round her head.

"And I," cried the glowworm, "will light you at night with my golden lamp."

"We all love you, Fairy Violet, because you are so gentle and good," they sang in chorus; and Violet lifted her head, comforted, and smiled a sweet, joyous smile, as she bade farewell to her sister fairies.

It was a long journey that she undertook, for the Wizard of the Black Rock lived quite at the other end of the earth.

Sometimes a benighted traveller, hurrying homewards, fancied he saw a golden light flash like lightning past his dazzled eyes, or heard a warbling of sweet music, delighting for an instant his bewildered ears; but light and music were gone in a moment, and he never guessed that it was the Fairy Violet who had passed him as she glided onward with her three faithful attendants to seek the Wizard of the Black Rock.

At length they reached the great Black Rock, which rose up, grim and forbidding, from a wide, desolate plain. The bee sank down humming cheerfully, at the base, the thrush perched himself on a[14] projecting ridge, and the glowworm hid himself behind a tuft of withered grass.

Violet advanced boldly to the small black door, studded with iron nails, which was standing open, guarded only by a black dwarf of preternatural ugliness. He turned as the beautiful fairy came floating towards him, and led the way silently through dark long passages, and up narrow winding stairs to his master's chamber. It was a small dark room, lighted only by a silver lamp of great brilliancy, which stood on a table by the fire-place, where, though the month was May, and the weather bright and sunny, there burned a dim, smouldering fire. The Wizard, whose silvery locks contrasted strangely with the surrounding gloom, bent over a book; its jewelled clasps were rusted with age, each page was enriched with coloured tracery. He was very old. More than a hundred years had elapsed since it was first rumoured that a famous magician had taken up his abode in the Black Rock, and all that time he had spent in studying the great black book of magic spells that lay open before him. No wonder he was wise and learned!

The dwarf shut the door with a sullen resentful clang, and Violet was left alone with the great magician.

She glided to his side, and knelt down meekly before him.

But the Wizard, deep in his abstruse studies, did not hear her; and Violet felt a sensation of awe creeping over her as she noted his abstracted gaze, and looked on the high, arched forehead wrinkled with centuries of years and study. Suddenly the magician turned, muttering some strange words in an unknown tongue, and, as he did so, his eyes fell upon Violet.

A remembrance of some by-gone spell of grace and beauty seemed[15] to stir the Wizard as he looked upon the bright-haired fairy, to whose upturned face the light of the silver lamp had lent a fairer radiance, for his deep voice softened as he spoke to her, and he laid his hand gently on her head while she told her story.

When she had finished, he remained musing for some time in silence.

"I know no spells that will serve where the Spirits of Snow and of Fire have failed," he said at length, with unwonted gentleness. "No one can help thee here but thine own loving heart. Kind words, gentle deeds, faithful service, patient waiting—from these alone can be wrought the wings, which will be slight enough for thy delicate frame to bear, and yet powerful enough to withstand every trial. Go forth then, gentle fairy, to thy daily tasks, and wait patiently till the great Mother Nature herself give thee thy reward."

"Thanks, kind magician," said Violet, with a bright smile; "you have given me a pleasant task to do."

Then kissing gratefully his withered hand, she went on her way, and the aged Magician thought his silver lamp burned dimly, and his cell grew dark when she had left.

"Could not the great wizard help you?" cried her three friends, sorrowfully, as, gliding past the black dwarf that guarded the entrance, she stepped out into the open air.

"Could he not help you?" echoed her sister fairies, when she re-entered once more the old forest.

"Alas! is there no help for you, sweet Violet?" wept the wind, wandering in and out among the lofty trees, rocking and swaying them like slender bulrushes in his fierce sorrow.

But to each and all Violet replied only by a glad quiet smile.[16]

"Patience!" she said, gently; "Mother Nature will help me in her own time."

So she returned to her work among the violets; and when they had all died, and the spring had gone, and her sister fairies flew away to fairy-land, she still smiled, though a little sadly, and bade them farewell without a shade of discontent in her brave, gentle voice.

"Now, I must find some work," she said to herself, when her wistful eyes could no longer discern the flutter of their wings in the azure sky.

And she soon found plenty to do.

Now it was binding up the wound of some stricken bird, or raising some crushed flower, and sprinkling its drooping leaves with cooling dew, and now it was closing the eyelids of a tired child who had thrown himself down to rest beneath the forest shade, and singing softly in his ear a fairy lullaby, till he fell asleep. Sometimes she would perch herself on the shoulder of some sleeping wayfarer by the roadside, and whisper in his ear sweet and tender words that made him dream of his home, and of the mother sleeping so peacefully in the churchyard far away, till he started from his sleep and went on his way with a touched and softened heart. Every day Fairy Violet found some kindly deed to do, and every day Mother Nature, looking lovingly on her child, saw the time was drawing nearer when she should receive her reward.

One day as she was wandering through one of the by-streets of a crowded city, she was attracted by a plaintive voice that proceeded from one of the low-roofed, badly built houses.[17]

"Put the geranium where I can see it, mother," the voice was saying, "I love to lie back and watch it."

A woman came forward at these words and altered the position of the plant, which Fairy Violet had already noticed as being rather faded, and in want of her skill to brighten the colours.

"It is very washy-like," she said regretfully, "I doubt this stuffy air is killing it."

"Will it live as long as I shall?" asked the plaintive voice.

There was no answer, but Violet saw that the mother's hands shook as they busied themselves with the flower.

"I hope it will," the voice continued, with a sort of wistful eagerness, "for it is such a pleasure to me to watch it. It seems to comfort me, when the pain is very bad, and I lie awake through the long weary night, to look at it and wonder what the little garden is looking like in the old home you have told me of so often, mother, and whether the moon is shining as sweetly there as over our poor house here. I sometimes wonder, too, whether the flowers there are so very much more beautiful than my poor sickly geranium, and whether if I saw them I should care for it no longer; and then I think no, that no flower could ever be so beautiful to me as my flower, and that I love it far better, rearing its pretty head so bravely in this dull stuffy room, than if it bloomed in the loveliest garden that was ever planted. And many a time when I have felt a little downhearted, with being a burden to you, mother, and the pain seeming as if it was more than I could bear, it has seemed to say; 'Patience! poor little Faith, it will be over soon.'