DOWN among the grass and fragrant clover lay little Eva by the\nbrook-side, watching the bright waves, as they went singing by\nunder the drooping flowers that grew on its banks. As she was\nwondering where the waters went, she heard a faint, low sound, as\nof far-off music. She thought it was the wind, but not a leaf was\nstirring, and soon through the rippling water came a strange little\nboat.
\nIt was a lily of the valley, whose tall stem formed the mast,\nwhile the broad leaves that rose from the roots, and drooped again\ntill they reached the water, were filled with gay little Elves, who\ndanced to the music of the silver lily-bells above, that rang a\nmerry peal, and filled the air with their fragrant breath.
\nOn came the fairy boat, till it reached a moss-grown rock; and\nhere it stopped, while the Fairies rested beneath the\nviolet-leaves, and sang with the dancing waves.
\nEva looked with wonder on their gay faces and bright garments,\nand in the joy of her heart sang too, and threw crimson fruit for\nthe little folks to feast upon.
\nThey looked kindly on the child, and, after whispering long\namong themselves, two little bright-eyed Elves flew over the\nshining water, and, lighting on the clover-blossoms, said gently,\n\"Little maiden, many thanks for your kindness; and our Queen bids\nus ask if you will go with us to Fairy-Land, and learn what we can\nteach you.\"
\n\"Gladly would I go with you, dear Fairies,\" said Eva, \"but I\ncannot sail in your little boat. See! I can hold you in my hand,\nand could not live among you without harming your tiny kingdom, I\nam so large.\"
\nThen the Elves laughed gayly, as they folded their arms about\nher, saying, \"You are a good child, dear Eva, to fear doing harm to\nthose weaker than yourself. You cannot hurt us now. Look in the\nwater and see what we have done.\"
\nEva looked into the brook, and saw a tiny child standing between\nthe Elves. \"Now I can go with you,\" said she, \"but see, I can no\nlonger step from the bank to yonder stone, for the brook seems now\nlike a great river, and you have not given me wings like\nyours.\"
\nBut the Fairies took each a hand, and flew lightly over the\nstream. The Queen and her subjects came to meet her, and all seemed\nglad to say some kindly word of welcome to the little stranger.\nThey placed a flower-crown upon her head, laid their soft faces\nagainst her own, and soon it seemed as if the gentle Elves had\nalways been her friends.
\n\"Now must we go home,\" said the Queen, \"and you shall go with\nus, little one.\"
\nThen there was a great bustle, as they flew about on shining\nwings, some laying cushions of violet leaves in the boat, others\nfolding the Queen's veil and mantle more closely round her, lest\nthe falling dews should chill her.
\nThe cool waves' gentle plashing against the boat, and the sweet\nchime of the lily-bells, lulled little Eva to sleep, and when she\nwoke it was in Fairy-Land. A faint, rosy light, as of the setting\nsun, shone on the white pillars of the Queen's palace as they\npassed in, and the sleeping flowers leaned gracefully on their\nstems, dreaming beneath their soft green curtains. All was cool and\nstill, and the Elves glided silently about, lest they should break\ntheir slumbers. They led Eva to a bed of pure white leaves, above\nwhich drooped the fragrant petals of a crimson rose.
\n\"You can look at the bright colors till the light fades, and\nthen the rose will sing you to sleep,\" said the Elves, as they\nfolded the soft leaves about her, gently kissed her, and stole\naway.
\nLong she lay watching the bright shadows, and listening to the\nsong of the rose, while through the long night dreams of lovely\nthings floated like bright clouds through her mind; while the rose\nbent lovingly above her, and sang in the clear moonlight.
\nWith the sun rose the Fairies, and, with Eva, hastened away to\nthe fountain, whose cool waters were soon filled with little forms,\nand the air ringing with happy voices, as the Elves floated in the\nblue waves among the fair white lilies, or sat on the green moss,\nsmoothing their bright locks, and wearing fresh garlands of dewy\nflowers. At length the Queen came forth, and her subjects gathered\nround her, and while the flowers bowed their heads, and the trees\nhushed their rustling, the Fairies sang their morning hymn to the\nFather of birds and blossoms, who had made the earth so fair a home\nfor them.
\nThen they flew away to the gardens, and soon, high up among the\ntree-tops, or under the broad leaves, sat the Elves in little\ngroups, taking their breakfast of fruit and pure fresh dew; while\nthe bright-winged birds came fearlessly among them, pecking the\nsame ripe berries, and dipping their little beaks in the same\nflower-cups, and the Fairies folded their arms lovingly about them,\nsmoothed their soft bosoms, and gayly sang to them.
\n\"Now, little Eva,\" said they, \"you will see that Fairies are not\nidle, wilful Spirits, as mortals believe. Come, we will show you\nwhat we do.\"
\nThey led her to a lovely room, through whose walls of deep green\nleaves the light stole softly in. Here lay many wounded insects,\nand harmless little creatures, whom cruel hands had hurt; and pale,\ndrooping flowers grew beside urns of healing herbs, from whose\nfresh leaves came a faint, sweet perfume.
\nEva wondered, but silently followed her guide, little Rose-Leaf,\nwho with tender words passed among the delicate blossoms, pouring\ndew on their feeble roots, cheering them with her loving words and\nhappy smile.
\nThen she went to the insects; first to a little fly who lay in a\nflower-leaf cradle.
\n\"Do you suffer much, dear Gauzy-Wing?\" asked the Fairy. \"I will\nbind up your poor little leg, and Zephyr shall rock you to sleep.\"\nSo she folded the cool leaves tenderly about the poor fly, bathed\nhis wings, and brought him refreshing drink, while he hummed his\nthanks, and forgot his pain, as Zephyr softly sung and fanned him\nwith her waving wings.
\nThey passed on, and Eva saw beside each bed a Fairy, who with\ngentle hands and loving words soothed the suffering insects. At\nlength they stopped beside a bee, who lay among sweet honeysuckle\nflowers, in a cool, still place, where the summer wind blew in, and\nthe green leaves rustled pleasantly. Yet he seemed to find no rest,\nand murmured of the pain he was doomed to bear. \"Why must I lie\nhere, while my kindred are out in the pleasant fields, enjoying the\nsunlight and the fresh air, and cruel hands have doomed me to this\ndark place and bitter pain when I have done no wrong? Uncared for\nand forgotten, I must stay here among these poor things who think\nonly of themselves. Come here, Rose-Leaf, and bind up my wounds,\nfor I am far more useful than idle bird or fly.\"
\nThen said the Fairy, while she bathed the broken wing,—
\n\"Love-Blossom, you should not murmur. We may find happiness in\nseeking to be patient even while we suffer. You are not forgotten\nor uncared for, but others need our care more than you, and to\nthose who take cheerfully the pain and sorrow sent, do we most\ngladly give our help. You need not be idle, even though lying here\nin darkness and sorrow; you can be taking from your heart all sad\nand discontented feelings, and if love and patience blossom there,\nyou will be better for the lonely hours spent here. Look on the bed\nbeside you; this little dove has suffered far greater pain than\nyou, and all our care can never ease it; yet through the long days\nhe hath lain here, not an unkind word or a repining sigh hath he\nuttered. Ah, Love-Blossom, the gentle bird can teach a lesson you\nwill be wiser and better for.\"
\nThen a faint voice whispered, \"Little Rose-Leaf, come quickly,\nor I cannot thank you as I ought for all your loving care of\nme.\"
\nSo they passed to the bed beside the discontented bee, and here\nupon the softest down lay the dove, whose gentle eyes looked\ngratefully upon the Fairy, as she knelt beside the little couch,\nsmoothed the soft white bosom, folded her arms about it and wept\nsorrowing tears, while the bird still whispered its gratitude and\nlove.
\n\"Dear Fairy, the fairest flowers have cheered me with their\nsweet breath, fresh dew and fragrant leaves have been ever ready\nfor me, gentle hands to tend, kindly hearts to love; and for this I\ncan only thank you and say farewell.\"
\nThen the quivering wings were still, and the patient little dove\nwas dead; but the bee murmured no longer, and the dew from the\nflowers fell like tears around the quiet bed.
\nSadly Rose-Leaf led Eva away, saying, \"Lily-Bosom shall have a\ngrave tonight beneath our fairest blossoms, and you shall see that\ngentleness and love are prized far above gold or beauty, here in\nFairy-Land. Come now to the Flower Palace, and see the Fairy\nCourt.\"
\nBeneath green arches, bright with birds and flowers, beside\nsinging waves, went Eva into a lofty hall. The roof of pure white\nlilies rested on pillars of green clustering vines, while\nmany-colored blossoms threw their bright shadows on the walls, as\nthey danced below in the deep green moss, and their low, sweet\nvoices sounded softly through the sunlit palace, while the rustling\nleaves kept time.
\nBeside the throne stood Eva, and watched the lovely forms around\nher, as they stood, each little band in its own color, with\nglistening wings, and flower wands.
\nSuddenly the music grew louder and sweeter, and the Fairies\nknelt, and bowed their heads, as on through the crowd of loving\nsubjects came the Queen, while the air was filled with gay voices\nsinging to welcome her.
\nShe placed the child beside her, saying, \"Little Eva, you shall\nsee now how the flowers on your great earth bloom so brightly. A\nband of loving little gardeners go daily forth from Fairy-Land, to\ntend and watch them, that no harm may befall the gentle spirits\nthat dwell beneath their leaves. This is never known, for like all\ngood it is unseen by mortal eyes, and unto only pure hearts like\nyours do we make known our secret. The humblest flower that grows\nis visited by our messengers, and often blooms in fragrant beauty\nunknown, unloved by all save Fairy friends, who seek to fill the\nspirits with all sweet and gentle virtues, that they may not be\nuseless on the earth; for the noblest mortals stoop to learn of\nflowers. Now, Eglantine, what have you to tell us of your rosy\nnamesakes on the earth?\"
\nFrom a group of Elves, whose rose-wreathed wands showed the\nflower they loved, came one bearing a tiny urn, and, answering the\nQueen, she said,—
\n\"Over hill and valley they are blooming fresh and fair as summer\nsun and dew can make them. No drooping stem or withered leaf tells\nof any evil thought within their fragrant bosoms, and thus from the\nfairest of their race have they gathered this sweet dew, as a token\nof their gratitude to one whose tenderness and care have kept them\npure and happy; and this, the loveliest of their sisters, have I\nbrought to place among the Fairy flowers that never pass away.\"
\nEglantine laid the urn before the Queen, and placed the fragrant\nrose on the dewy moss beside the throne, while a murmur of approval\nwent through the hall, as each elfin wand waved to the little Fairy\nwho had toiled so well and faithfully, and could bring so fair a\ngift to their good Queen.
\nThen came forth an Elf bearing a withered leaf, while her\nmany-colored robe and the purple tulips in her hair told her name\nand charge.
\n\"Dear Queen,\" she sadly said, \"I would gladly bring as pleasant\ntidings as my sister, but, alas! my flowers are proud and wilful,\nand when I went to gather my little gift of colored leaves for\nroyal garments, they bade me bring this withered blossom, and tell\nyou they would serve no longer one who will not make them Queen\nover all the other flowers. They would yield neither dew nor honey,\nbut proudly closed their leaves and bid me go.\"
\n\"Your task has been too hard for you,\" said the Queen kindly, as\nshe placed the drooping flower in the urn Eglantine had given, \"you\nwill see how this dew from a sweet, pure heart will give new life\nand loveliness even to this poor faded one. So can you, dear\nRainbow, by loving words and gentle teachings, bring back lost\npurity and peace to those whom pride and selfishness have blighted.\nGo once again to the proud flowers, and tell them when they are\nqueen of their own hearts they will ask no fairer kingdom. Watch\nmore tenderly than ever over them, see that they lack neither dew\nnor air, speak lovingly to them, and let no unkind word or deed of\ntheirs anger you. Let them see by your patient love and care how\nmuch fairer they might be, and when next you come, you will be\nladen with gifts from humble, loving flowers.\"
\nThus they told what they had done, and received from their Queen\nsome gentle chiding or loving word of praise.
\n\"You will be weary of this,\" said little Rose-Leaf to Eva; \"come\nnow and see where we are taught to read the tales written on\nflower-leaves, and the sweet language of the birds, and all that\ncan make a Fairy heart wiser and better.\"
\nThen into a cheerful place they went, where were many groups of\nflowers, among whose leaves sat the child Elves, and learned from\ntheir flower-books all that Fairy hands had written there. Some\nstudied how to watch the tender buds, when to spread them to the\nsunlight, and when to shelter them from rain; how to guard the\nripening seeds, and when to lay them in the warm earth or send them\non the summer wind to far off hills and valleys, where other Fairy\nhands would tend and cherish them, till a sisterhood of happy\nflowers sprang up to beautify and gladden the lonely spot where\nthey had fallen. Others learned to heal the wounded insects, whose\nfrail limbs a breeze could shatter, and who, were it not for Fairy\nhands, would die ere half their happy summer life had gone. Some\nlearned how by pleasant dreams to cheer and comfort mortal hearts,\nby whispered words of love to save from evil deeds those who had\ngone astray, to fill young hearts with gentle thoughts and pure\naffections, that no sin might mar the beauty of the human flower;\nwhile others, like mortal children, learned the Fairy alphabet.\nThus the Elves made loving friends by care and love, and no evil\nthing could harm them, for those they helped to cherish and protect\never watched to shield and save them.
\nEva nodded to the gay little ones, as they peeped from among the\nleaves at the stranger, and then she listened to the Fairy lessons.\nSeveral tiny Elves stood on a broad leaf while the teacher sat\namong the petals of a flower that bent beside them, and asked\nquestions that none but Fairies would care to know.
\n\"Twinkle, if there lay nine seeds within a flower-cup and the\nwind bore five away, how many would the blossom have?\" \"Four,\"\nreplied the little one.
\n\"Rosebud, if a Cowslip opens three leaves in one day and four\nthe next, how many rosy leaves will there be when the whole flower\nhas bloomed?\"
\n\"Seven,\" sang the gay little Elf.
\n\"Harebell, if a silkworm spin one yard of Fairy cloth in an\nhour, how many will it spin in a day?\"
\n\"Twelve,\" said the Fairy child.
\n\"Primrose, where lies Violet Island?\"
\n\"In the Lake of Ripples.\"
\n\"Lilla, you may bound Rose Land.\"
\n\"On the north by Ferndale, south by Sunny Wave River, east by\nthe hill of Morning Clouds, and west by the Evening Star.\"
\n\"Now, little ones,\" said the teacher, \"you may go to your\npainting, that our visitor may see how we repair the flowers that\nearthly hands have injured.\"
\nThen Eva saw how, on large, white leaves, the Fairies learned to\nimitate the lovely colors, and with tiny brushes to brighten the\nblush on the anemone's cheek, to deepen the blue of the violet's\neye, and add new light to the golden cowslip.
\n\"You have stayed long enough,\" said the Elves at length, \"we\nhave many things to show you. Come now and see what is our dearest\nwork.\"
\nSo Eva said farewell to the child Elves, and hastened with\nlittle Rose-Leaf to the gates. Here she saw many bands of Fairies,\nfolded in dark mantles that mortals might not know them, who, with\nthe child among them, flew away over hill and valley. Some went to\nthe cottages amid the hills, some to the sea-side to watch above\nthe humble fisher folks; but little Rose-Leaf and many others went\ninto the noisy city.
\nEva wondered within herself what good the tiny Elves could do in\nthis great place; but she soon learned, for the Fairy band went\namong the poor and friendless, bringing pleasant dreams to the sick\nand old, sweet, tender thoughts of love and gentleness to the\nyoung, strength to the weak, and patient cheerfulness to the poor\nand lonely.
\nThen the child wondered no longer, but deeper grew her love for\nthe tender-hearted Elves, who left their own happy home to cheer\nand comfort those who never knew what hands had clothed and fed\nthem, what hearts had given of their own joy, and brought such\nhappiness to theirs.
\nLong they stayed, and many a lesson little Eva learned: but when\nshe begged them to go back, they still led her on, saying, \"Our\nwork is not yet done; shall we leave so many sad hearts when we may\ncheer them, so many dark homes that we may brighten? We must stay\nyet longer, little Eva, and you may learn yet more.\"
\nThen they went into a dark and lonely room, and here they found\na pale, sad-eyed child, who wept bitter tears over a faded\nflower.
\n\"Ah,\" sighed the little one, \"it was my only friend, and I\ncherished it with all my lone heart's love; 't was all that made my\nsad life happy; and it is gone.\"
\nTenderly the child fastened the drooping stem, and placed it\nwhere the one faint ray of sunlight stole into the dreary room.
\n\"Do you see,\" said the Elves, \"through this simple flower will\nwe keep the child pure and stainless amid the sin and sorrow around\nher. The love of this shall lead her on through temptation and\nthrough grief, and she shall be a spirit of joy and consolation to\nthe sinful and the sorrowing.\"
\nAnd with busy love toiled the Elves amid the withered leaves,\nand new strength was given to the flower; while, as day by day the\nfriendless child watered the growing buds, deeper grew her love for\nthe unseen friends who had given her one thing to cherish in her\nlonely home; sweet, gentle thoughts filled her heart as she bent\nabove it, and the blossom's fragrant breath was to her a whispered\nvoice of all fair and lovely things; and as the flower taught her,\nso she taught others.
\nThe loving Elves brought her sweet dreams by night, and happy\nthoughts by day, and as she grew in childlike beauty, pure and\npatient amid poverty and sorrow, the sinful were rebuked, sorrowing\nhearts grew light, and the weak and selfish forgot their idle\nfears, when they saw her trustingly live on with none to aid or\ncomfort her. The love she bore the tender flower kept her own heart\ninnocent and bright, and the pure human flower was a lesson to\nthose who looked upon it; and soon the gloomy house was bright with\nhappy hearts, that learned of the gentle child to bear poverty and\ngrief as she had done, to forgive those who brought care and wrong\nto them, and to seek for happiness in humble deeds of charity and\nlove.
\n\"Our work is done,\" whispered the Elves, and with blessings on\nthe two fair flowers, they flew away to other homes;—to a blind old\nman who dwelt alone with none to love him, till through long years\nof darkness and of silent sorrow the heart within had grown dim and\ncold. No sunlight could enter at the darkened eyes, and none were\nnear to whisper gentle words, to cheer and comfort.
\nThus he dwelt forgotten and alone, seeking to give no joy to\nothers, possessing none himself. Life was dark and sad till the\nuntiring Elves came to his dreary home, bringing sunlight and love.\nThey whispered sweet words of comfort,—how, if the darkened eyes\ncould find no light without, within there might be never-failing\nhappiness; gentle feelings and sweet, loving thoughts could make\nthe heart fair, if the gloomy, selfish sorrow were but cast away,\nand all would be bright and beautiful.
\nThey brought light-hearted children, who gathered round him,\nmaking the desolate home fair with their young faces, and his sad\nheart gay with their sweet, childish voices. The love they bore he\ncould not cast away, sunlight stole in, the dark thoughts passed\naway, and the earth was a pleasant home to him.
\nThus their little hands led him back to peace and happiness,\nflowers bloomed beside his door, and their fragrant breath brought\nhappy thoughts of pleasant valleys and green hills; birds sang to\nhim, and their sweet voices woke the music in his own soul, that\nnever failed to calm and comfort. Happy sounds were heard in his\nonce lonely home, and bright faces gathered round his knee, and\nlistened tenderly while he strove to tell them all the good that\ngentleness and love had done for him.
\nStill the Elves watched near, and brighter grew the heart as\nkindly thoughts and tender feelings entered in, and made it their\nhome; and when the old man fell asleep, above his grave little feet\ntrod lightly, and loving hands laid fragrant flowers.
\nThen went the Elves into the dreary prison-houses, where sad\nhearts pined in lonely sorrow for the joy and freedom they had\nlost. To these came the loving band with tender words, telling of\nthe peace they yet might win by patient striving and repentant\ntears, thus waking in their bosoms all the holy feelings and sweet\naffections that had slept so long.
\nThey told pleasant tales, and sang their sweetest songs to cheer\nand gladden, while the dim cells grew bright with the sunlight, and\nfragrant with the flowers the loving Elves had brought, and by\ntheir gentle teachings those sad, despairing hearts were filled\nwith patient hope and earnest longing to win back their lost\ninnocence and joy.
\nThus to all who needed help or comfort went the faithful\nFairies; and when at length they turned towards Fairy-Land, many\nwere the grateful, happy hearts they left behind.
\nThen through the summer sky, above the blossoming earth, they\njourneyed home, happier for the joy they had given, wiser for the\ngood they had done.
\nAll Fairy-Land was dressed in flowers, and the soft wind went\nsinging by, laden with their fragrant breath. Sweet music sounded\nthrough the air, and troops of Elves in their gayest robes hastened\nto the palace where the feast was spread.
\nSoon the bright hall was filled with smiling faces and fair\nforms, and little Eva, as she stood beside the Queen, thought she\nhad never seen a sight so lovely.
\nThe many-colored shadows of the fairest flowers played on the\npure white walls, and fountains sparkled in the sunlight, making\nmusic as the cool waves rose and fell, while to and fro, with\nwaving wings and joyous voices, went the smiling Elves, bearing\nfruit and honey, or fragrant garlands for each other's hair.
\nLong they feasted, gayly they sang, and Eva, dancing merrily\namong them, longed to be an Elf that she might dwell forever in so\nfair a home.
\nAt length the music ceased, and the Queen said, as she laid her\nhand on little Eva's shining hair:—
\n\"Dear child, tomorrow we must bear you home, for, much as we\nlong to keep you, it were wrong to bring such sorrow to your loving\nearthly friends; therefore we will guide you to the brook-side, and\nthere say farewell till you come again to visit us. Nay, do not\nweep, dear Rose-Leaf; you shall watch over little Eva's flowers,\nand when she looks at them she will think of you. Come now and lead\nher to the Fairy garden, and show her what we think our fairest\nsight. Weep no more, but strive to make her last hours with us\nhappy as you can.\"
\nWith gentle caresses and most tender words the loving Elves\ngathered about the child, and, with Rose-Leaf by her side, they led\nher through the palace, and along green, winding paths, till Eva\nsaw what seemed a wall of flowers rising before her, while the air\nwas filled with the most fragrant odors, and the low, sweet music\nas of singing blossoms.
\n\"Where have you brought me, and what mean these lovely sounds?\"\nasked Eva.
\n\"Look here, and you shall see,\" said Rose-Leaf, as she bent\naside the vines, \"but listen silently or you cannot hear.\"
\nThen Eva, looking through the drooping vines, beheld a garden\nfilled with the loveliest flowers; fair as were all the blossoms\nshe had seen in Fairy-Land, none were so beautiful as these. The\nrose glowed with a deeper crimson, the lily's soft leaves were more\npurely white, the crocus and humble cowslip shone like sunlight,\nand the violet was blue as the sky that smiled above it.
\n\"How beautiful they are,\" whispered Eva, \"but, dear Rose-Leaf,\nwhy do you keep them here, and why call you this your fairest\nsight?\"
\n\"Look again, and I will tell you,\" answered the Fairy.
\nEva looked, and saw from every flower a tiny form come forth to\nwelcome the Elves, who all, save Rose-Leaf, had flown above the\nwall, and were now scattering dew upon the flowers' bright leaves\nand talking gayly with the Spirits, who gathered around them, and\nseemed full of joy that they had come. The child saw that each one\nwore the colors of the flower that was its home. Delicate and\ngraceful were the little forms, bright the silken hair that fell\nabout each lovely face; and Eva heard the low, sweet murmur of\ntheir silvery voices and the rustle of their wings. She gazed in\nsilent wonder, forgetting she knew not who they were, till the\nFairy said,—
\n\"These are the spirits of the flowers, and this the Fairy Home\nwhere those whose hearts were pure and loving on the earth come to\nbloom in fadeless beauty here, when their earthly life is past. The\nhumblest flower that blooms has a home with us, for outward beauty\nis a worthless thing if all be not fair and sweet within. Do you\nsee yonder lovely spirit singing with my sister Moonlight? a clover\nblossom was her home, and she dwelt unknown, unloved; yet patient\nand content, bearing cheerfully the sorrows sent her. We watched\nand saw how fair and sweet the humble flower grew, and then gladly\nbore her here, to blossom with the lily and the rose. The flowers'\nlives are often short, for cruel hands destroy them; therefore is\nit our greatest joy to bring them hither, where no careless foot or\nwintry wind can harm them, where they bloom in quiet beauty,\nrepaying our care by their love and sweetest perfumes.\"
\n\"I will never break another flower,\" cried Eva; \"but let me go\nto them, dear Fairy; I would gladly know the lovely spirits, and\nask forgiveness for the sorrow I have caused. May I not go in?\"
\n\"Nay, dear Eva, you are a mortal child, and cannot enter here;\nbut I will tell them of the kind little maiden who has learned to\nlove them, and they will remember you when you are gone. Come now,\nfor you have seen enough, and we must be away.\"
\nOn a rosy morning cloud, surrounded by the loving Elves, went\nEva through the sunny sky. The fresh wind bore them gently on, and\nsoon they stood again beside the brook, whose waves danced brightly\nas if to welcome them.
\n\"Now, ere we say farewell,\" said the Queen, as they gathered\nnearer to the child, \"tell me, dear Eva, what among all our Fairy\ngifts will make you happiest, and it shall be yours.\"
\n\"You good little Fairies,\" said Eva, folding them in her arms,\nfor she was no longer the tiny child she had been in Fairy-Land,\n\"you dear good little Elves, what can I ask of you, who have done\nso much to make me happy, and taught me so many good and gentle\nlessons, the memory of which will never pass away? I can only ask\nof you the power to be as pure and gentle as yourselves, as tender\nand loving to the weak and sorrowing, as untiring in kindly deeds\nto all. Grant me this gift, and you shall see that little Eva has\nnot forgotten what you have taught her.\"
\n\"The power shall be yours,\" said the Elves, and laid their soft\nhands on her head; \"we will watch over you in dreams, and when you\nwould have tidings of us, ask the flowers in your garden, and they\nwill tell you all you would know. Farewell. Remember Fairy-Land and\nall your loving friends.\"
\nThey clung about her tenderly, and little Rose-Leaf placed a\nflower crown on her head, whispering softly, \"When you would come\nto us again, stand by the brook-side and wave this in the air, and\nwe will gladly take you to our home again. Farewell, dear Eva.\nThink of your little Rose-Leaf when among the flowers.\"
\nLong Eva watched their shining wings, and listened to the music\nof their voices as they flew singing home, and when at length the\nlast little form had vanished among the clouds, she saw that all\naround her where the Elves had been, the fairest flowers had sprung\nup, and the lonely brook-side was a blooming garden.
\nThus she stood among the waving blossoms, with the Fairy garland\nin her hair, and happy feelings in her heart, better and wiser for\nher visit to Fairy-Land.
\n\"Now, Star-Twinkle, what have you to teach?\" asked the\nQueen.
\n\"Nothing but a little song I heard the hare-bells singing,\"\nreplied the Fairy, and, taking her harp, sang, in a low, sweet\nvoice:—
\nDOWN among the grass and fragrant clover lay little Eva by the\nbrook-side, watching the bright waves, as they went singing by\nunder the drooping flowers that grew on its banks. As she was\nwondering where the waters went, she heard a faint, low sound, as\nof far-off music. She thought it was the wind, but not a leaf was\nstirring, and soon through the rippling water came a strange little\nboat.
\nIt was a lily of the valley, whose tall stem formed the mast,\nwhile the broad leaves that rose from the roots, and drooped again\ntill they reached the water, were filled with gay little Elves, who\ndanced to the music of the silver lily-bells above, that rang a\nmerry peal, and filled the air with their fragrant breath.
\nOn came the fairy boat, till it reached a moss-grown rock; and\nhere it stopped, while the Fairies rested beneath the\nviolet-leaves, and sang with the dancing waves.
\nEva looked with wonder on their gay faces and bright garments,\nand in the joy of her heart sang too, and threw crimson fruit for\nthe little folks to feast upon.
\nThey looked kindly on the child, and, after whispering long\namong themselves, two little bright-eyed Elves flew over the\nshining water, and, lighting on the clover-blossoms, said gently,\n\"Little maiden, many thanks for your kindness; and our Queen bids\nus ask if you will go with us to Fairy-Land, and learn what we can\nteach you.\"
\n\"Gladly would I go with you, dear Fairies,\" said Eva, \"but I\ncannot sail in your little boat. See! I can hold you in my hand,\nand could not live among you without harming your tiny kingdom, I\nam so large.\"
\nThen the Elves laughed gayly, as they folded their arms about\nher, saying, \"You are a good child, dear Eva, to fear doing harm to\nthose weaker than yourself. You cannot hurt us now. Look in the\nwater and see what we have done.\"
\nEva looked into the brook, and saw a tiny child standing between\nthe Elves. \"Now I can go with you,\" said she, \"but see, I can no\nlonger step from the bank to yonder stone, for the brook seems now\nlike a great river, and you have not given me wings like\nyours.\"
\nBut the Fairies took each a hand, and flew lightly over the\nstream. The Queen and her subjects came to meet her, and all seemed\nglad to say some kindly word of welcome to the little stranger.\nThey placed a flower-crown upon her head, laid their soft faces\nagainst her own, and soon it seemed as if the gentle Elves had\nalways been her friends.
\n\"Now must we go home,\" said the Queen, \"and you shall go with\nus, little one.\"
\nThen there was a great bustle, as they flew about on shining\nwings, some laying cushions of violet leaves in the boat, others\nfolding the Queen's veil and mantle more closely round her, lest\nthe falling dews should chill her.
\nThe cool waves' gentle plashing against the boat, and the sweet\nchime of the lily-bells, lulled little Eva to sleep, and when she\nwoke it was in Fairy-Land. A faint, rosy light, as of the setting\nsun, shone on the white pillars of the Queen's palace as they\npassed in, and the sleeping flowers leaned gracefully on their\nstems, dreaming beneath their soft green curtains. All was cool and\nstill, and the Elves glided silently about, lest they should break\ntheir slumbers. They led Eva to a bed of pure white leaves, above\nwhich drooped the fragrant petals of a crimson rose.
\n\"You can look at the bright colors till the light fades, and\nthen the rose will sing you to sleep,\" said the Elves, as they\nfolded the soft leaves about her, gently kissed her, and stole\naway.
\nLong she lay watching the bright shadows, and listening to the\nsong of the rose, while through the long night dreams of lovely\nthings floated like bright clouds through her mind; while the rose\nbent lovingly above her, and sang in the clear moonlight.
\nWith the sun rose the Fairies, and, with Eva, hastened away to\nthe fountain, whose cool waters were soon filled with little forms,\nand the air ringing with happy voices, as the Elves floated in the\nblue waves among the fair white lilies, or sat on the green moss,\nsmoothing their bright locks, and wearing fresh garlands of dewy\nflowers. At length the Queen came forth, and her subjects gathered\nround her, and while the flowers bowed their heads, and the trees\nhushed their rustling, the Fairies sang their morning hymn to the\nFather of birds and blossoms, who had made the earth so fair a home\nfor them.
\nThen they flew away to the gardens, and soon, high up among the\ntree-tops, or under the broad leaves, sat the Elves in little\ngroups, taking their breakfast of fruit and pure fresh dew; while\nthe bright-winged birds came fearlessly among them, pecking the\nsame ripe berries, and dipping their little beaks in the same\nflower-cups, and the Fairies folded their arms lovingly about them,\nsmoothed their soft bosoms, and gayly sang to them.
\n\"Now, little Eva,\" said they, \"you will see that Fairies are not\nidle, wilful Spirits, as mortals believe. Come, we will show you\nwhat we do.\"
\nThey led her to a lovely room, through whose walls of deep green\nleaves the light stole softly in. Here lay many wounded insects,\nand harmless little creatures, whom cruel hands had hurt; and pale,\ndrooping flowers grew beside urns of healing herbs, from whose\nfresh leaves came a faint, sweet perfume.
\nEva wondered, but silently followed her guide, little Rose-Leaf,\nwho with tender words passed among the delicate blossoms, pouring\ndew on their feeble roots, cheering them with her loving words and\nhappy smile.
\nThen she went to the insects; first to a little fly who lay in a\nflower-leaf cradle.
\n\"Do you suffer much, dear Gauzy-Wing?\" asked the Fairy. \"I will\nbind up your poor little leg, and Zephyr shall rock you to sleep.\"\nSo she folded the cool leaves tenderly about the poor fly, bathed\nhis wings, and brought him refreshing drink, while he hummed his\nthanks, and forgot his pain, as Zephyr softly sung and fanned him\nwith her waving wings.
\nThey passed on, and Eva saw beside each bed a Fairy, who with\ngentle hands and loving words soothed the suffering insects. At\nlength they stopped beside a bee, who lay among sweet honeysuckle\nflowers, in a cool, still place, where the summer wind blew in, and\nthe green leaves rustled pleasantly. Yet he seemed to find no rest,\nand murmured of the pain he was doomed to bear. \"Why must I lie\nhere, while my kindred are out in the pleasant fields, enjoying the\nsunlight and the fresh air, and cruel hands have doomed me to this\ndark place and bitter pain when I have done no wrong? Uncared for\nand forgotten, I must stay here among these poor things who think\nonly of themselves. Come here, Rose-Leaf, and bind up my wounds,\nfor I am far more useful than idle bird or fly.\"
\nThen said the Fairy, while she bathed the broken wing,—
\n\"Love-Blossom, you should not murmur. We may find happiness in\nseeking to be patient even while we suffer. You are not forgotten\nor uncared for, but others need our care more than you, and to\nthose who take cheerfully the pain and sorrow sent, do we most\ngladly give our help. You need not be idle, even though lying here\nin darkness and sorrow; you can be taking from your heart all sad\nand discontented feelings, and if love and patience blossom there,\nyou will be better for the lonely hours spent here. Look on the bed\nbeside you; this little dove has suffered far greater pain than\nyou, and all our care can never ease it; yet through the long days\nhe hath lain here, not an unkind word or a repining sigh hath he\nuttered. Ah, Love-Blossom, the gentle bird can teach a lesson you\nwill be wiser and better for.\"
\nThen a faint voice whispered, \"Little Rose-Leaf, come quickly,\nor I cannot thank you as I ought for all your loving care of\nme.\"
\nSo they passed to the bed beside the discontented bee, and here\nupon the softest down lay the dove, whose gentle eyes looked\ngratefully upon the Fairy, as she knelt beside the little couch,\nsmoothed the soft white bosom, folded her arms about it and wept\nsorrowing tears, while the bird still whispered its gratitude and\nlove.
\n\"Dear Fairy, the fairest flowers have cheered me with their\nsweet breath, fresh dew and fragrant leaves have been ever ready\nfor me, gentle hands to tend, kindly hearts to love; and for this I\ncan only thank you and say farewell.\"
\nThen the quivering wings were still, and the patient little dove\nwas dead; but the bee murmured no longer, and the dew from the\nflowers fell like tears around the quiet bed.
\nSadly Rose-Leaf led Eva away, saying, \"Lily-Bosom shall have a\ngrave tonight beneath our fairest blossoms, and you shall see that\ngentleness and love are prized far above gold or beauty, here in\nFairy-Land. Come now to the Flower Palace, and see the Fairy\nCourt.\"
\nBeneath green arches, bright with birds and flowers, beside\nsinging waves, went Eva into a lofty hall. The roof of pure white\nlilies rested on pillars of green clustering vines, while\nmany-colored blossoms threw their bright shadows on the walls, as\nthey danced below in the deep green moss, and their low, sweet\nvoices sounded softly through the sunlit palace, while the rustling\nleaves kept time.
\nBeside the throne stood Eva, and watched the lovely forms around\nher, as they stood, each little band in its own color, with\nglistening wings, and flower wands.
\nSuddenly the music grew louder and sweeter, and the Fairies\nknelt, and bowed their heads, as on through the crowd of loving\nsubjects came the Queen, while the air was filled with gay voices\nsinging to welcome her.
\nShe placed the child beside her, saying, \"Little Eva, you shall\nsee now how the flowers on your great earth bloom so brightly. A\nband of loving little gardeners go daily forth from Fairy-Land, to\ntend and watch them, that no harm may befall the gentle spirits\nthat dwell beneath their leaves. This is never known, for like all\ngood it is unseen by mortal eyes, and unto only pure hearts like\nyours do we make known our secret. The humblest flower that grows\nis visited by our messengers, and often blooms in fragrant beauty\nunknown, unloved by all save Fairy friends, who seek to fill the\nspirits with all sweet and gentle virtues, that they may not be\nuseless on the earth; for the noblest mortals stoop to learn of\nflowers. Now, Eglantine, what have you to tell us of your rosy\nnamesakes on the earth?\"
\nFrom a group of Elves, whose rose-wreathed wands showed the\nflower they loved, came one bearing a tiny urn, and, answering the\nQueen, she said,—
\n\"Over hill and valley they are blooming fresh and fair as summer\nsun and dew can make them. No drooping stem or withered leaf tells\nof any evil thought within their fragrant bosoms, and thus from the\nfairest of their race have they gathered this sweet dew, as a token\nof their gratitude to one whose tenderness and care have kept them\npure and happy; and this, the loveliest of their sisters, have I\nbrought to place among the Fairy flowers that never pass away.\"
\nEglantine laid the urn before the Queen, and placed the fragrant\nrose on the dewy moss beside the throne, while a murmur of approval\nwent through the hall, as each elfin wand waved to the little Fairy\nwho had toiled so well and faithfully, and could bring so fair a\ngift to their good Queen.
\nThen came forth an Elf bearing a withered leaf, while her\nmany-colored robe and the purple tulips in her hair told her name\nand charge.
\n\"Dear Queen,\" she sadly said, \"I would gladly bring as pleasant\ntidings as my sister, but, alas! my flowers are proud and wilful,\nand when I went to gather my little gift of colored leaves for\nroyal garments, they bade me bring this withered blossom, and tell\nyou they would serve no longer one who will not make them Queen\nover all the other flowers. They would yield neither dew nor honey,\nbut proudly closed their leaves and bid me go.\"
\n\"Your task has been too hard for you,\" said the Queen kindly, as\nshe placed the drooping flower in the urn Eglantine had given, \"you\nwill see how this dew from a sweet, pure heart will give new life\nand loveliness even to this poor faded one. So can you, dear\nRainbow, by loving words and gentle teachings, bring back lost\npurity and peace to those whom pride and selfishness have blighted.\nGo once again to the proud flowers, and tell them when they are\nqueen of their own hearts they will ask no fairer kingdom. Watch\nmore tenderly than ever over them, see that they lack neither dew\nnor air, speak lovingly to them, and let no unkind word or deed of\ntheirs anger you. Let them see by your patient love and care how\nmuch fairer they might be, and when next you come, you will be\nladen with gifts from humble, loving flowers.\"
\nThus they told what they had done, and received from their Queen\nsome gentle chiding or loving word of praise.
\n\"You will be weary of this,\" said little Rose-Leaf to Eva; \"come\nnow and see where we are taught to read the tales written on\nflower-leaves, and the sweet language of the birds, and all that\ncan make a Fairy heart wiser and better.\"
\nThen into a cheerful place they went, where were many groups of\nflowers, among whose leaves sat the child Elves, and learned from\ntheir flower-books all that Fairy hands had written there. Some\nstudied how to watch the tender buds, when to spread them to the\nsunlight, and when to shelter them from rain; how to guard the\nripening seeds, and when to lay them in the warm earth or send them\non the summer wind to far off hills and valleys, where other Fairy\nhands would tend and cherish them, till a sisterhood of happy\nflowers sprang up to beautify and gladden the lonely spot where\nthey had fallen. Others learned to heal the wounded insects, whose\nfrail limbs a breeze could shatter, and who, were it not for Fairy\nhands, would die ere half their happy summer life had gone. Some\nlearned how by pleasant dreams to cheer and comfort mortal hearts,\nby whispered words of love to save from evil deeds those who had\ngone astray, to fill young hearts with gentle thoughts and pure\naffections, that no sin might mar the beauty of the human flower;\nwhile others, like mortal children, learned the Fairy alphabet.\nThus the Elves made loving friends by care and love, and no evil\nthing could harm them, for those they helped to cherish and protect\never watched to shield and save them.
\nEva nodded to the gay little ones, as they peeped from among the\nleaves at the stranger, and then she listened to the Fairy lessons.\nSeveral tiny Elves stood on a broad leaf while the teacher sat\namong the petals of a flower that bent beside them, and asked\nquestions that none but Fairies would care to know.
\n\"Twinkle, if there lay nine seeds within a flower-cup and the\nwind bore five away, how many would the blossom have?\" \"Four,\"\nreplied the little one.
\n\"Rosebud, if a Cowslip opens three leaves in one day and four\nthe next, how many rosy leaves will there be when the whole flower\nhas bloomed?\"
\n\"Seven,\" sang the gay little Elf.
\n\"Harebell, if a silkworm spin one yard of Fairy cloth in an\nhour, how many will it spin in a day?\"
\n\"Twelve,\" said the Fairy child.
\n\"Primrose, where lies Violet Island?\"
\n\"In the Lake of Ripples.\"
\n\"Lilla, you may bound Rose Land.\"
\n\"On the north by Ferndale, south by Sunny Wave River, east by\nthe hill of Morning Clouds, and west by the Evening Star.\"
\n\"Now, little ones,\" said the teacher, \"you may go to your\npainting, that our visitor may see how we repair the flowers that\nearthly hands have injured.\"
\nThen Eva saw how, on large, white leaves, the Fairies learned to\nimitate the lovely colors, and with tiny brushes to brighten the\nblush on the anemone's cheek, to deepen the blue of the violet's\neye, and add new light to the golden cowslip.
\n\"You have stayed long enough,\" said the Elves at length, \"we\nhave many things to show you. Come now and see what is our dearest\nwork.\"
\nSo Eva said farewell to the child Elves, and hastened with\nlittle Rose-Leaf to the gates. Here she saw many bands of Fairies,\nfolded in dark mantles that mortals might not know them, who, with\nthe child among them, flew away over hill and valley. Some went to\nthe cottages amid the hills, some to the sea-side to watch above\nthe humble fisher folks; but little Rose-Leaf and many others went\ninto the noisy city.
\nEva wondered within herself what good the tiny Elves could do in\nthis great place; but she soon learned, for the Fairy band went\namong the poor and friendless, bringing pleasant dreams to the sick\nand old, sweet, tender thoughts of love and gentleness to the\nyoung, strength to the weak, and patient cheerfulness to the poor\nand lonely.
\nThen the child wondered no longer, but deeper grew her love for\nthe tender-hearted Elves, who left their own happy home to cheer\nand comfort those who never knew what hands had clothed and fed\nthem, what hearts had given of their own joy, and brought such\nhappiness to theirs.
\nLong they stayed, and many a lesson little Eva learned: but when\nshe begged them to go back, they still led her on, saying, \"Our\nwork is not yet done; shall we leave so many sad hearts when we may\ncheer them, so many dark homes that we may brighten? We must stay\nyet longer, little Eva, and you may learn yet more.\"
\nThen they went into a dark and lonely room, and here they found\na pale, sad-eyed child, who wept bitter tears over a faded\nflower.
\n\"Ah,\" sighed the little one, \"it was my only friend, and I\ncherished it with all my lone heart's love; 't was all that made my\nsad life happy; and it is gone.\"
\nTenderly the child fastened the drooping stem, and placed it\nwhere the one faint ray of sunlight stole into the dreary room.
\n\"Do you see,\" said the Elves, \"through this simple flower will\nwe keep the child pure and stainless amid the sin and sorrow around\nher. The love of this shall lead her on through temptation and\nthrough grief, and she shall be a spirit of joy and consolation to\nthe sinful and the sorrowing.\"
\nAnd with busy love toiled the Elves amid the withered leaves,\nand new strength was given to the flower; while, as day by day the\nfriendless child watered the growing buds, deeper grew her love for\nthe unseen friends who had given her one thing to cherish in her\nlonely home; sweet, gentle thoughts filled her heart as she bent\nabove it, and the blossom's fragrant breath was to her a whispered\nvoice of all fair and lovely things; and as the flower taught her,\nso she taught others.
\nThe loving Elves brought her sweet dreams by night, and happy\nthoughts by day, and as she grew in childlike beauty, pure and\npatient amid poverty and sorrow, the sinful were rebuked, sorrowing\nhearts grew light, and the weak and selfish forgot their idle\nfears, when they saw her trustingly live on with none to aid or\ncomfort her. The love she bore the tender flower kept her own heart\ninnocent and bright, and the pure human flower was a lesson to\nthose who looked upon it; and soon the gloomy house was bright with\nhappy hearts, that learned of the gentle child to bear poverty and\ngrief as she had done, to forgive those who brought care and wrong\nto them, and to seek for happiness in humble deeds of charity and\nlove.
\n\"Our work is done,\" whispered the Elves, and with blessings on\nthe two fair flowers, they flew away to other homes;—to a blind old\nman who dwelt alone with none to love him, till through long years\nof darkness and of silent sorrow the heart within had grown dim and\ncold. No sunlight could enter at the darkened eyes, and none were\nnear to whisper gentle words, to cheer and comfort.
\nThus he dwelt forgotten and alone, seeking to give no joy to\nothers, possessing none himself. Life was dark and sad till the\nuntiring Elves came to his dreary home, bringing sunlight and love.\nThey whispered sweet words of comfort,—how, if the darkened eyes\ncould find no light without, within there might be never-failing\nhappiness; gentle feelings and sweet, loving thoughts could make\nthe heart fair, if the gloomy, selfish sorrow were but cast away,\nand all would be bright and beautiful.
\nThey brought light-hearted children, who gathered round him,\nmaking the desolate home fair with their young faces, and his sad\nheart gay with their sweet, childish voices. The love they bore he\ncould not cast away, sunlight stole in, the dark thoughts passed\naway, and the earth was a pleasant home to him.
\nThus their little hands led him back to peace and happiness,\nflowers bloomed beside his door, and their fragrant breath brought\nhappy thoughts of pleasant valleys and green hills; birds sang to\nhim, and their sweet voices woke the music in his own soul, that\nnever failed to calm and comfort. Happy sounds were heard in his\nonce lonely home, and bright faces gathered round his knee, and\nlistened tenderly while he strove to tell them all the good that\ngentleness and love had done for him.
\nStill the Elves watched near, and brighter grew the heart as\nkindly thoughts and tender feelings entered in, and made it their\nhome; and when the old man fell asleep, above his grave little feet\ntrod lightly, and loving hands laid fragrant flowers.
\nThen went the Elves into the dreary prison-houses, where sad\nhearts pined in lonely sorrow for the joy and freedom they had\nlost. To these came the loving band with tender words, telling of\nthe peace they yet might win by patient striving and repentant\ntears, thus waking in their bosoms all the holy feelings and sweet\naffections that had slept so long.
\nThey told pleasant tales, and sang their sweetest songs to cheer\nand gladden, while the dim cells grew bright with the sunlight, and\nfragrant with the flowers the loving Elves had brought, and by\ntheir gentle teachings those sad, despairing hearts were filled\nwith patient hope and earnest longing to win back their lost\ninnocence and joy.
\nThus to all who needed help or comfort went the faithful\nFairies; and when at length they turned towards Fairy-Land, many\nwere the grateful, happy hearts they left behind.
\nThen through the summer sky, above the blossoming earth, they\njourneyed home, happier for the joy they had given, wiser for the\ngood they had done.
\nAll Fairy-Land was dressed in flowers, and the soft wind went\nsinging by, laden with their fragrant breath. Sweet music sounded\nthrough the air, and troops of Elves in their gayest robes hastened\nto the palace where the feast was spread.
\nSoon the bright hall was filled with smiling faces and fair\nforms, and little Eva, as she stood beside the Queen, thought she\nhad never seen a sight so lovely.
\nThe many-colored shadows of the fairest flowers played on the\npure white walls, and fountains sparkled in the sunlight, making\nmusic as the cool waves rose and fell, while to and fro, with\nwaving wings and joyous voices, went the smiling Elves, bearing\nfruit and honey, or fragrant garlands for each other's hair.
\nLong they feasted, gayly they sang, and Eva, dancing merrily\namong them, longed to be an Elf that she might dwell forever in so\nfair a home.
\nAt length the music ceased, and the Queen said, as she laid her\nhand on little Eva's shining hair:—
\n\"Dear child, tomorrow we must bear you home, for, much as we\nlong to keep you, it were wrong to bring such sorrow to your loving\nearthly friends; therefore we will guide you to the brook-side, and\nthere say farewell till you come again to visit us. Nay, do not\nweep, dear Rose-Leaf; you shall watch over little Eva's flowers,\nand when she looks at them she will think of you. Come now and lead\nher to the Fairy garden, and show her what we think our fairest\nsight. Weep no more, but strive to make her last hours with us\nhappy as you can.\"
\nWith gentle caresses and most tender words the loving Elves\ngathered about the child, and, with Rose-Leaf by her side, they led\nher through the palace, and along green, winding paths, till Eva\nsaw what seemed a wall of flowers rising before her, while the air\nwas filled with the most fragrant odors, and the low, sweet music\nas of singing blossoms.
\n\"Where have you brought me, and what mean these lovely sounds?\"\nasked Eva.
\n\"Look here, and you shall see,\" said Rose-Leaf, as she bent\naside the vines, \"but listen silently or you cannot hear.\"
\nThen Eva, looking through the drooping vines, beheld a garden\nfilled with the loveliest flowers; fair as were all the blossoms\nshe had seen in Fairy-Land, none were so beautiful as these. The\nrose glowed with a deeper crimson, the lily's soft leaves were more\npurely white, the crocus and humble cowslip shone like sunlight,\nand the violet was blue as the sky that smiled above it.
\n\"How beautiful they are,\" whispered Eva, \"but, dear Rose-Leaf,\nwhy do you keep them here, and why call you this your fairest\nsight?\"
\n\"Look again, and I will tell you,\" answered the Fairy.
\nEva looked, and saw from every flower a tiny form come forth to\nwelcome the Elves, who all, save Rose-Leaf, had flown above the\nwall, and were now scattering dew upon the flowers' bright leaves\nand talking gayly with the Spirits, who gathered around them, and\nseemed full of joy that they had come. The child saw that each one\nwore the colors of the flower that was its home. Delicate and\ngraceful were the little forms, bright the silken hair that fell\nabout each lovely face; and Eva heard the low, sweet murmur of\ntheir silvery voices and the rustle of their wings. She gazed in\nsilent wonder, forgetting she knew not who they were, till the\nFairy said,—
\n\"These are the spirits of the flowers, and this the Fairy Home\nwhere those whose hearts were pure and loving on the earth come to\nbloom in fadeless beauty here, when their earthly life is past. The\nhumblest flower that blooms has a home with us, for outward beauty\nis a worthless thing if all be not fair and sweet within. Do you\nsee yonder lovely spirit singing with my sister Moonlight? a clover\nblossom was her home, and she dwelt unknown, unloved; yet patient\nand content, bearing cheerfully the sorrows sent her. We watched\nand saw how fair and sweet the humble flower grew, and then gladly\nbore her here, to blossom with the lily and the rose. The flowers'\nlives are often short, for cruel hands destroy them; therefore is\nit our greatest joy to bring them hither, where no careless foot or\nwintry wind can harm them, where they bloom in quiet beauty,\nrepaying our care by their love and sweetest perfumes.\"
\n\"I will never break another flower,\" cried Eva; \"but let me go\nto them, dear Fairy; I would gladly know the lovely spirits, and\nask forgiveness for the sorrow I have caused. May I not go in?\"
\n\"Nay, dear Eva, you are a mortal child, and cannot enter here;\nbut I will tell them of the kind little maiden who has learned to\nlove them, and they will remember you when you are gone. Come now,\nfor you have seen enough, and we must be away.\"
\nOn a rosy morning cloud, surrounded by the loving Elves, went\nEva through the sunny sky. The fresh wind bore them gently on, and\nsoon they stood again beside the brook, whose waves danced brightly\nas if to welcome them.
\n\"Now, ere we say farewell,\" said the Queen, as they gathered\nnearer to the child, \"tell me, dear Eva, what among all our Fairy\ngifts will make you happiest, and it shall be yours.\"
\n\"You good little Fairies,\" said Eva, folding them in her arms,\nfor she was no longer the tiny child she had been in Fairy-Land,\n\"you dear good little Elves, what can I ask of you, who have done\nso much to make me happy, and taught me so many good and gentle\nlessons, the memory of which will never pass away? I can only ask\nof you the power to be as pure and gentle as yourselves, as tender\nand loving to the weak and sorrowing, as untiring in kindly deeds\nto all. Grant me this gift, and you shall see that little Eva has\nnot forgotten what you have taught her.\"
\n\"The power shall be yours,\" said the Elves, and laid their soft\nhands on her head; \"we will watch over you in dreams, and when you\nwould have tidings of us, ask the flowers in your garden, and they\nwill tell you all you would know. Farewell. Remember Fairy-Land and\nall your loving friends.\"
\nThey clung about her tenderly, and little Rose-Leaf placed a\nflower crown on her head, whispering softly, \"When you would come\nto us again, stand by the brook-side and wave this in the air, and\nwe will gladly take you to our home again. Farewell, dear Eva.\nThink of your little Rose-Leaf when among the flowers.\"
\nLong Eva watched their shining wings, and listened to the music\nof their voices as they flew singing home, and when at length the\nlast little form had vanished among the clouds, she saw that all\naround her where the Elves had been, the fairest flowers had sprung\nup, and the lonely brook-side was a blooming garden.
\nThus she stood among the waving blossoms, with the Fairy garland\nin her hair, and happy feelings in her heart, better and wiser for\nher visit to Fairy-Land.
\n\"Now, Star-Twinkle, what have you to teach?\" asked the\nQueen.
\n\"Nothing but a little song I heard the hare-bells singing,\"\nreplied the Fairy, and, taking her harp, sang, in a low, sweet\nvoice:—
\nA\n s\n soon as the obsequies were over, Andre's tutor hastily assembled the chief Hungarian lords, and it was decided in a council held in the presence of the prince and with his consent, to send letters to his mother, Elizabeth of Poland, and his brother, Louis of Hungary, to make known to them the purport of Robert's will, and at the same time to lodge a complaint at the court of Avignon against the conduct of the princes and people of Naples in that they had proclaimed Joan alone Queen of Naples, thus overlooking the rights of her husband, and further to demand for him the pope's order for Andre's coronation. Friar Robert, who had not only a profound knowledge of the court intrigues, but also the experience of a philosopher and all a monk's cunning, told his pupil that he ought to profit by the depression of spirit the king's death had produced in Joan, and ought not to suffer her favourites to use this time in influencing her by their seductive counsels.
\nBut Joan's ability to receive consolation was quite as ready as her grief had at first been impetuous; the sobs which seemed to be breaking her heart ceased all at once; new thoughts, more gentle, less lugubrious, took possession of the young queen's mind; the trace of tears vanished, and a smile lit up her liquid eyes like the sun's ray following on rain. This change, anxiously awaited, was soon observed by Joan's chamberwoman: she stole to the queen's room, and falling on her knees, in accents of flattery and affection, she offered her first congratulations to her lovely mistress. Joan opened her arms and held her in a long embrace, for Dona Cancha was far more to her than a lady-in-waiting; she was the companion of infancy, the depositary of all her secrets, the confidante of her most private thoughts. One had but to glance at this young girl to understand the fascination she could scarcely fail to exercise over the queen's mind. She had a frank and smiling countenance, such as inspires confidence and captivates the mind at first sight. Her face had an irresistible charm, with clear blue eyes, warm golden hair, mouth bewitchingly turned up at the corners, and delicate little chin. Wild, happy, light of heart, pleasure and love were the breath of her being; her dainty refinement, her charming inconstancies, all made her at sixteen as lovely as an angel, though at heart she was corrupt. The whole court was at her feet, and Joan felt more affection for her than for her own sister.
\n\"Well, my dear Cancha,\" she murmured, with a sigh, \"you find me very sad and very unhappy!\"
\n\"And you find me, fair queen,\" replied the confidante, fixing an admiring look on Joan,—\"you find me just the opposite, very happy that I can lay at your feet before anyone else the proof of the joy that the people of Naples are at this moment feeling. Others perhaps may envy you the crown that shines upon your brow, the throne which is one of the noblest in the world, the shouts of this entire town that sound rather like worship than homage; but I, madam, I envy you your lovely black hair, your dazzling eyes, your more than mortal grace, which make every man adore you.\"
\n\"And yet you know, my Cancha, I am much to be pitied both as a queen and as a woman: when one is fifteen a crown is heavy to wear, and I have not the liberty of the meanest of my subjects—I mean in my affections; for before I reached an age when I could think I was sacrificed to a man whom I can never love.\"
\n\"Yet, madam,\" replied Cancha in a more insinuating voice, \"in this court there is a young cavalier who might by virtue of respect, love, and devotion have made you forget the claims of this foreigner, alike unworthy to be our king and to be your husband.\"
\nThe queen heaved a heavy sigh.
\n\"When did you lose your skill to read my heart?\" she cried. \"Must I actually tell you that this love is making me wretched? True, at the very first this unsanctioned love was a keen joy: a new life seemed to wake within my heart; I was drawn on, fascinated by the prayers, the tears, and the despair of this man, by the opportunities that his mother so easily granted, she whom I had always looked upon as my own mother; I have loved him…. O my God, I am still so young, and my past is so unhappy. At times strange thoughts come into my mind: I fancy he no longer loves me, that he never did love me; I fancy he has been led on by ambition, by self-interest, by some ignoble motive, and has only feigned a feeling that he has never really felt. I feel myself a coldness I cannot account for; in his presence I am constrained, I am troubled by his look, his voice makes me tremble: I fear him; I would sacrifice a year of my life could I never have listened to him.\"
\nThese words seemed to touch the young confidante to the very depths of her soul; a shade of sadness crossed her brow, her eyelids dropped, and for some time she answered nothing, showing sorrow rather than surprise. Then, lifting her head gently, she said, with visible embarrassment—
\n\"I should never have dared to pass so severe a judgment upon a man whom my sovereign lady has raised above other men by casting upon him a look of kindness; but if Robert of Cabane has deserved the reproach of inconstancy and ingratitude, if he has perjured himself like a coward, he must indeed be the basest of all miserable beings, despising a happiness which other men might have entreated of God the whole time of their life and paid for through eternity. One man I know, who weeps both night and day without hope or consolation, consumed by a slow and painful malady, when one word might yet avail to save him, did it come from the lips of my noble mistress.\"
\n\"I will not hear another word,\" cried Joan, suddenly rising; \"there shall be no new cause for remorse in my life. Trouble has come upon me through my loves, both lawful and criminal; alas! no longer will I try to control my awful fate, I will bow my head without a murmur. I am the queen, and I must yield myself up for the good of my subjects.\"
\n\"Will you forbid me, madam,\" replied Dona Cancha in a kind, affectionate tone —\"will you forbid me to name Bertrand of Artois in your presence, that unhappy man, with the beauty of an angel and the modesty of a girl? Now that you are queen and have the life and death of your subjects in your own keeping, will you feel no kindness towards an unfortunate one whose only fault is to adore you, who strives with all his mind and strength to bear a chance look of yours without dying of his joy?\"
\n\"I have struggled hard never to look on him,\" cried the queen, urged by an impulse she was not strong enough to conquer: then, to efface the impression that might well have been made on her friend's mind, she added severely, \"I forbid you to pronounce his name before me; and if he should ever venture to complain, I bid you tell him from me that the first time I even suspect the cause of his distress he will be banished for ever from my presence.\"
\n\"Ah, madam, dismiss me also; for I shall never be strong enough to do so hard a bidding: the unhappy man who cannot awake in your heart so much as a feeling of pity may now be struck down by yourself in your wrath, for here he stands; he has heard your sentence, and come to die at your feet.\"
\nThe last words were spoken in a louder voice, so that they might be heard from outside, and Bertrand of Artois came hurriedly into the room and fell on his knees before the queen. For a long time past the young lady-in-waiting had perceived that Robert of Cabane had, through his own fault, lost the love of Joan; for his tyranny had indeed become more unendurable to her than her husband's.
\nDona Cancha had been quick enough to perceive that the eyes of her young mistress were wont to rest with a kind of melancholy gentleness on Bertrand, a young man of handsome appearance but with a sad and dreamy expression; so when she made up her mind to speak in his interests, she was persuaded that the queen already loved him. Still, a bright colour overspread Joan's face, and her anger would have fallen on both culprits alike, when in the next room a sound of steps was heard, and the voice of the grand seneschal's widow in conversation with her son fell on the ears of the three young people like a clap of thunder. Dona Cancha, pale as death, stood trembling; Bertrand felt that he was lost—all the more because his presence compromised the queen; Joan only, with that wonderful presence of mind she was destined to preserve in the most difficult crises of her future life, thrust the young man against the carved back of her bed, and concealed him completely beneath the ample curtain: she then signed to Cancha to go forward and meet the governess and her son.
\nBut before we conduct into the queen's room these two persons, whom our readers may remember in Joan's train about the bed of King Robert, we must relate the circumstances which had caused the family of the Catanese to rise with incredible rapidity from the lowest class of the people to the highest rank at court. When Dona Violante of Aragon, first wife of Robert of Anjou, became the mother of Charles, who was later on the Duke of Calabria, a nurse was sought for the infant among the most handsome women of the people. After inspecting many women of equal merit as regards beauty, youth and health, the princess's choice lighted on Philippa, a young Catanese woman, the wife of a fisherman of Trapani, and by condition a laundress. This young woman, as she washed her linen on the bank of a stream, had dreamed strange dreams: she had fancied herself summoned to court, wedded to a great personage, and receiving the honours of a great lady. Thus when she was called to Castel Nuovo her joy was great, for she felt that her dreams now began to be realised. Philippa was installed at the court, and a few months after she began to nurse the child the fisherman was dead and she was a widow. Meanwhile Raymond of Cabane, the major-domo of King Charles II's house, had bought a negro from some corsairs, and having had him baptized by his own name, had given him his liberty; afterwards observing that he was able and intelligent, he had appointed him head cook in the king's kitchen; and then he had gone away to the war. During the absence of his patron the negro managed his own affairs at the court so cleverly, that in a short time he was able to buy land, houses, farms, silver plate, and horses, and could vie in riches with the best in the kingdom; and as he constantly won higher favour in the royal family, he passed on from the kitchen to the wardrobe. The Catanese had also deserved very well of her employers, and as a reward for the care she had bestowed on the child, the princess married her to the negro, and he, as a wedding gift, was granted the title of knight.
\nFrom this day forward, Raymond of Cabane and Philippa the laundress rose in the world so rapidly that they had no equal in influence at court. After the death of Dona Violante, the Catanese became the intimate friend of Dona Sandra, Robert's second wife, whom we introduced to our readers at the beginning of this narrative. Charles, her foster son, loved her as a mother, and she was the confidante of his two wives in turn, especially of the second wife, Marie of Valois. And as the quondam laundress had in the end learned all the manners and customs of the court, she was chosen at the birth of Joan and her sister to be governess and mistress over the young girls, and at this juncture Raymond was created major-domo. Finally, Marie of Valois on her deathbed commended the two young princesses to her care, begging her to look on them as her own-daughters. Thus Philippa the Catanese, honoured in future as foster mother of the heiress to the throne of Naples, had power to nominate her husband grand seneschal, one of the seven most important offices in the kingdom, and to obtain knighthood for her sons. Raymond of Cabane was buried like a king in a marble tomb in the church of the Holy Sacrament, and there was speedily joined by two of his sons. The third, Robert, a youth of extraordinary strength and beauty, gave up an ecclesiastical career, and was himself made major-domo, his two sisters being married to the Count of Merlizzi and the Count of Morcone respectively. This was now the state of affairs, and the influence of the grand seneschal's widow seemed for ever established, when an unexpected event suddenly occurred, causing such injury as might well suffice to upset the edifice of her fortunes that had been raised stone by stone patiently and slowly: this edifice was now undermined and threatened to fall in a single day. It was the sudden apparition of Friar Robert, who followed to the court of Rome his young pupil, who from infancy had been Joan's destined husband, which thus shattered all the designs of the Catanese and seriously menaced her future. The monk had not been slow to understand that so long as she remained at the court, Andre would be no more than the slave, possibly even the victim, of his wife. Thus all Friar Robert's thoughts were obstinately concentrated on a single end, that of getting rid of the Catanese or neutralising her influence. The prince's tutor and the governess of the heiress had but to exchange one glance, icy, penetrating, plain to read: their looks met like lightning flashes of hatred and of vengeance. The Catanese, who felt she was detected, lacked courage to fight this man in the open, and so conceived the hope of strengthening her tottering empire by the arts of corruption and debauchery. She instilled by degrees into her pupil's mind the poison of vice, inflamed her youthful imagination with precocious desires, sowed in her heart the seeds of an unconquerable aversion for her husband, surrounded the poor child with abandoned women, and especially attached to her the beautiful and attractive Dona Cancha, who is branded by contemporary authors with the name of a courtesan; then summed up all these lessons in infamy by prostituting Joan to her own son. The poor girl, polluted by sin before she knew what life was, threw her whole self into this first passion with all the ardour of youth, and loved Robert of Cabane so violently, so madly, that the Catanese congratulated herself on the success of her infamy, believing that she held her prey so fast in her toils that her victim would never attempt to escape them.
\nA year passed by before Joan, conquered by her infatuation, conceived the smallest suspicion of her lover's sincerity. He, more ambitious than affectionate, found it easy to conceal his coldness under the cloak of a brotherly intimacy, of blind submission, and of unswerving devotion; perhaps he would have deceived his mistress for a longer time had not Bertrand of Artois fallen madly in love with Joan. Suddenly the bandage fell from the young girl's eyes; comparing the two with the natural instinct of a woman beloved which never goes astray, she perceived that Robert of Cabane loved her for his own sake, while Bertrand of Artois would give his life to make her happy. A light fell upon her past: she mentally recalled the circumstances that preceded and accompanied her earliest love; and a shudder went through her at the thought that she had been sacrificed to a cowardly seducer by the very woman she had loved most in the world, whom she had called by the name of mother.
\nJoan drew back into herself, and wept bitterly. Wounded by a single blow in all her affections, at first her grief absorbed her; then, roused to sudden anger, she proudly raised her head, for now her love was changed to scorn. Robert, amazed at her cold and haughty reception of him, following on so great a love, was stung by jealousy and wounded pride. He broke out into bitter reproach and violent recrimination, and, letting fall the mask, once for all lost his place in Joan's heart.
\nHis mother at last saw that it was time to interfere: she rebuked her son, accusing him of upsetting all her plans by his clumsiness.
\n\"As you have failed to conquer her by love,\" she said, \"you must now subdue her by fear. The secret of her honour is in our hands, and she will never dare to rebel. She plainly loves Bertrand of Artois, whose languishing eyes and humble sighs contrast in a striking manner with your haughty indifference and your masterful ways. The mother of the Princes of Tarentum, the Empress of Constantinople, will easily seize an occasion of helping on the princess's love so as to alienate her more and more from her husband: Cancha will be the go between, and sooner or later we shall find Bertrand at Joan's feet. Then she will be able to refuse us nothing.\"
\nWhile all this was going on, the old king died, and the Catanese, who had unceasingly kept on the watch for the moment she had so plainly foreseen, loudly called to her son, when she saw Bertrand slip into Joan's apartment, saying as she drew him after her—
\n\"Follow me, the queen is ours.\"
\nIt was thus that she and her son came to be there. Joan, standing in the middle of the chamber, pallid, her eyes fixed on the curtains of the bed, concealed her agitation with a smile, and took one step forward towards her governess, stooping to receive the kiss which the latter bestowed upon her every morning. The Catanese embraced her with affected cordiality, and turning, to her son, who had knelt upon one knee, said, pointing to Robert—
\n\"My fair queen, allow the humblest of your subjects to offer his sincere congratulations and to lay his homage at your feet.\"
\n\"Rise, Robert,\" said Joan, extending her hand kindly, and with no show of bitterness. \"We were brought up together, and I shall never forget that in our childhood— I mean those happy days when we were both innocent—I called you my brother.\"
\n\"As you allow me, madam,\" said Robert, with an ironical smile, \"I too shall always remember the names you formerly gave me.\"
\n\"And I,\" said the Catanese, \"shall forget that I speak to the Queen of Naples, in embracing once more my beloved daughter. Come, madam, away with care: you have wept long enough; we have long respected your grief. It is now time to show yourself to these good Neapolitans who bless Heaven continually for granting them a queen so beautiful and good; it is time that your favours fall upon the heads of your faithful subjects, and my son, who surpasses all in his fidelity, comes first to ask a favour of you, in order that he may serve you yet more zealously.\"
\nJoan cast on Robert a withering look, and, speaking to the Catanese, said with a scornful air—
\n\"You know, madam, I can refuse your son nothing.\"
\n\"All he asks,\" continued the lady, \"is a title which is his due, and which he inherited from his father—the title of Grand Seneschal of the Two Sicilies: I trust, my daughter, you will have no difficulty in granting this.\"
\n\"But I must consult the council of regency.\"
\n\"The council will hasten to ratify the queen's wishes,\" replied Robert, handing her the parchment with an imperious gesture: \"you need only speak to the Count of Artois.\"
\nAnd he cast a threatening glance at the curtain, which had slightly moved.
\n\"You are right,\" said the queen at once; and going up to a table she signed the parchment with a trembling hand.
\n\"Now, my daughter, I have come in the name of all the care I bestowed on your infancy, of all the maternal love I have lavished on you, to implore a favour that my family will remember for evermore.\"
\nThe queen recoiled one step, crimson with astonishment and rage; but before she could find words to reply, the lady continued in a voice that betrayed no feeling—
\n\"I request you to make my son Count of Eboli.\"
\n\"That has nothing to do with me, madam; the barons of this kingdom would revolt to a man if I were on my own authority to exalt to one of the first dignities the son of a—-\"
\n\"A laundress and a negro; you would say, madam?\" said Robert, with a sneer. \"Bertrand of Artois would be annoyed perhaps if I had a title like his.\"
\nHe advanced a step towards the bed, his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
\n\"Have mercy, Robert!\" cried the queen, checking him: \"I will do all you ask.\"
\nAnd she signed the parchment naming him Count of Eboli.
\n\"And now,\" Robert went on impudently, \"to show that my new title is not illusory, while you are busy about signing documents, let me have the privilege of taking part in the councils of the crown: make a declaration that, subject to your good pleasure, my mother and I are to have a deliberative voice in the council whenever an important matter is under discussion.\"
\n\"Never!\" cried Joan, turning pale. \"Philippa and Robert, you abuse my weakness and treat your queen shamefully. In the last few days I have wept and suffered continually, overcome by a terrible grief; I have no strength to turn to business now. Leave me, I beg: I feel my strength gives way.\"
\n\"What, my daughter,\" cried the Catanese hypocritically, \"are you feeling unwell? Come and lie down at once.\" And hurrying to the bed, she took hold of the curtain that concealed the Count of Artois.
\nThe queen uttered a piercing cry, and threw herself before Philippa with the fury of a lioness. \"Stop!\" she cried in a choking voice; \"take the privilege you ask, and now, if you value your own life, leave me.\"
\nThe Catanese and her son departed instantly, not even waiting to reply, for they had got all they wanted; while Joan, trembling, ran desperately up to Bertrand, who had angrily drawn his dagger, and would have fallen upon the two favourites to take vengeance for the insults they had offered to the queen; but he was very soon disarmed by the lovely shining eyes raised to him in supplication, the two arms cast about him, and the tears shed by Joan: he fell at her feet and kissed them rapturously, with no thought of seeking excuse for his presence, with no word of love, for it was as if they had loved always: he lavished the tenderest caresses on her, dried her tears, and pressed his trembling lips upon her lovely head. Joan began to forget her anger, her vows, and her repentance: soothed by the music of her lover's speech, she returned uncomprehending monosyllables: her heart beat till it felt like breaking, and once more she was falling beneath love's resistless spell, when a new interruption occurred, shaking her roughly out of her ecstasy; but this time the young count was able to pass quietly and calmly into a room adjoining, and Joan prepared to receive her importunate visitor with severe and frigid dignity.
\nThe individual who arrived at so inopportune a moment was little calculated to smooth Joan's ruffled brow, being Charles, the eldest son of the Durazzo family. After he had introduced his fair cousin to the people as their only legitimate sovereign, he had sought on various occasions to obtain an interview with her, which in all probability would be decisive. Charles was one of those men who to gain their end recoil at nothing; devoured by raging ambition and accustomed from his earliest years to conceal his most ardent desires beneath a mask of careless indifference, he marched ever onward, plot succeeding plot, towards the object he was bent upon securing, and never deviated one hair's-breadth from the path he had marked out, but only acted with double prudence after each victory, and with double courage after each defeat. His cheek grew pale with joy; when he hated most, he smiled; in all the emotions of his life, however strong, he was inscrutable. He had sworn to sit on the throne of Naples, and long had believed himself the rightful heir, as being nearest of kin to Robert of all his nephews. To him the hand of Joan would have been given, had not the old king in his latter days conceived the plan of bringing Andre from Hungary and re-establishing the elder branch in his person, though that had long since been forgotten. But his resolution had never for a moment been weakened by the arrival of Andre in the kingdom, or by the profound indifference wherewith Joan, preoccupied with other passion, had always received the advances of her cousin Charles of Durazzo. Neither the love of a woman nor the life of a man was of any account to him when a crown was weighed in the other scale of the balance.
\nDuring the whole time that the queen had remained invisible, Charles had hung about her apartments, and now came into her presence with respectful eagerness to inquire for his cousin's health. The young duke had been at pains to set off his noble features and elegant figure by a magnificent dress covered with golden fleur-de-lys and glittering with precious stones. His doublet of scarlet velvet and cap of the same showed up, by their own splendour, the warm colouring of his skin, while his face seemed illumined by his black eyes that shone keen as an eagle's.
\nCharles spoke long with his cousin of the people's enthusiasm on her accession and of the brilliant destiny before her; he drew a hasty but truthful sketch of the state of the kingdom; and while he lavished praises on the queen's wisdom, he cleverly pointed out what reforms were most urgently needed by the country; he contrived to put so much warmth, yet so much reserve, into his speech that he destroyed the disagreeable impression his arrival had produced. In spite of the irregularities of her youth and the depravity brought about by her wretched education, Joan's nature impelled her to noble action: when the welfare of her subjects was concerned, she rose above the limitations of her age and sex, and, forgetting her strange position, listened to the Duke of Durazzo with the liveliest interest and the kindliest attention. He then hazarded allusions to the dangers that beset a young queen, spoke vaguely of the difficulty in distinguishing between true devotion and cowardly complaisance or interested attachment; he spoke of the ingratitude of many who had been loaded with benefits, and had been most completely trusted. Joan, who had just learned the truth of his words by sad experience, replied with a sigh, and after a moment's silence added—
\n\"May God, whom I call to witness for the loyalty and uprightness of my intentions, may God unmask all traitors and show me my true friends! I know that the burden laid upon me is heavy, and I presume not on my strength, but I trust that the tried experience of those counsellors to whom my uncle entrusted me, the support of my family, and your warm and sincere friendship above all, my dear cousin, will help me to accomplish my duty.\"
\n\"My sincerest prayer is that you may succeed, my fair cousin, and I will not darken with doubts and fears a time that ought to be given up to joy; I will not mingle with the shouts of gladness that rise on all sides to proclaim you queen, any vain regrets over that blind fortune which has placed beside the woman whom we all alike adore, whose single glance would make a man more blest than the angels, a foreigner unworthy of your love and unworthy of your throne.\"
\n\"You forget, Charles,\" said the queen, putting out her hand as though to check his words, \"Andre is my husband, and it was my grandfather's will that he should reign with me.\"
\n\"Never!\" cried the duke indignantly; \"he King of Naples! Nay, dream that the town is shaken to its very foundations, that the people rise as one man, that our church bells sound a new Sicilian vespers, before the people of Naples will endure the rule of a handful of wild Hungarian drunkards, a deformed canting monk, a prince detested by them even as you are beloved!\"
\n\"But why is Andre blamed? What has he done?\"
\n\"What has he done? Why is he blamed, madam? The people blame him as stupid, coarse, a savage; the nobles blame him for ignoring their privileges and openly supporting men of obscure birth; and I, madam,\"—here he lowered his voice, \"I blame him for making you unhappy.\"
\nJoan shuddered as though a wound had been touched by an unkind hand; but hiding her emotion beneath an appearance of calm, she replied in a voice of perfect indifference—
\n\"You must be dreaming, Charles; who has given you leave to suppose I am unhappy?\"
\n\"Do not try to excuse him, my dear cousin,\" replied Charles eagerly; \"you will injure yourself without saving him.\"
\nThe queen looked fixedly at her cousin, as though she would read him through and through and find out the meaning of his words; but as she could not give credence to the horrible thought that crossed her mind, she assumed a complete confidence in her cousin's friendship, with a view to discovering his plans, and said carelessly—
\n\"Well, Charles, suppose I am not happy, what remedy could you offer me that I might escape my lot?\"
\n\"You ask me that, my dear cousin? Are not all remedies good when you suffer, and when you wish for revenge?\"
\n\"One must fly to those means that are possible. Andre will not readily give up his pretensions: he has a party of his own, and in case of open rupture his brother the King of Hungary may declare war upon us, and bring ruin and desolation upon our kingdom.\"
\nThe Duke of Duras faintly smiled, and his countenance assumed a sinister expression.
\n\"You do not understand me,\" he said.
\n\"Then explain without circumlocution,\" said the queen, trying to conceal the convulsive shudder that ran through her limbs.
\n\"Listen, Joan,\" said Charles, taking his cousin's hand and laying it upon his heart: \"can you feel that dagger?\"
\n\"I can,\" said Joan, and she turned pale.
\n\"One word from you—and—\"
\n\"Yes?\"
\n\"To-morrow you will be free.\"
\n\"A murder!\" cried Joan, recoiling in horror: \"then I was not deceived; it is a murder that you have proposed.\"
\n\"It is a necessity,\" said the duke calmly: \"today I advise; later on you will give your orders.\"
\n\"Enough, wretch! I cannot tell if you are more cowardly or more rash: cowardly, because you reveal a criminal plot feeling sure that I shall never denounce you; rash, because in revealing it to me you cannot tell what witnesses are near to hear it all.\"
\n\"In any case, madam, since I have put myself in your hands, you must perceive that I cannot leave you till I know if I must look upon myself as your friend or as your enemy.\"
\n\"Leave me,\" cried Joan, with a disdainful gesture; \"you insult your queen.\"
\n\"You forget, my dear cousin, that some day I may very likely have a claim to your kingdom.\"
\n\"Do not force me to have you turned out of this room,\" said Joan, advancing towards the door.
\n\"Now do not get excited, my fair cousin; I am going: but at least remember that I offered you my hand and you refused it. Remember what I say at this solemn moment: to-day I am the guilty man; some day perhaps I may be the judge.\"
\nHe went away slowly, twice turning his head, repeating in the language of signs his menacing prophecy. Joan hid her face in her hands, and for a long time remained plunged in dismal reflections; then anger got the better of all her other feelings, and she summoned Dona Cancha, bidding her not to allow anybody to enter, on any pretext whatsoever.
\nThis prohibition was not for the Count of Artois, for the reader will remember that he was in the adjoining room.
\n