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CHAPTER THIRD The Fairy Bower That
part of the Enchanted Isle which was
kissed by the rising sun was called Dawna; the kingdom that was tinted
rose and
purple by the setting sun was known as Auriel, and the southland, where
fruits
and flowers abounded, was the kingdom of Plenta. Up
at the north lay Heg, the home of the
great barons who feared not even the men of Spor; and in the Kingdom of
Heg our
story opens. Upon a beautiful plain
stood the
castle of the great Baron Merd — renowned alike in war and peace, and
second in
importance only to the King of Heg. It
was a castle of vast extent, built with thick walls and protected by
strong
gates. In front of it sloped a pretty
stretch
of land with the sea glistening far beyond; and back of it, but a short
distance away, was the edge of the Forest of Lurla. One fair summer day the
custodian of
the castle gates opened a wicket and let down a draw-bridge, when out
trooped
three pretty girls with baskets dangling on their arms.
One of the maids walked in front of her
companions, as became the only daughter of the mighty Baron Merd. She
was named
Seseley, and had yellow hair and red cheeks and big, blue eyes. Behind her, merry and laughing, yet with a
distinct deference to the high station of their young lady, walked
Berna and Helda
— dark brunettes with mischievous eyes and slender, lithe limbs. Berna
was the
daughter of the chief archer, and Helda the niece of the captain of the
guard,
and they were appointed play-fellows and comrades of the fair Seseley. Up the hill to the
forest's edge ran
the three, and then without hesitation plunged into the shade of the
ancient
trees. There was no sunlight now, but
the air was cool and fragrant of nuts and mosses, and the children
skipped
along the paths joyously and without fear. To be sure, the Forest of
Lurla was
well known as the home of fairies, but Seseley and her comrades feared
nothing
from such gentle creatures and only longed for an interview with the
powerful
immortals whom they had been taught to love as the tender guardians of
mankind. Nymphs there were in Lurla, as
well, and crooked knooks, it was said; yet for many years past no
person could
boast the favor of meeting any one of the fairy creatures face to face. So, gathering a few nuts
here and a
sweet forest flower there, the three maidens walked farther and farther
into
the forest until they came upon a clearing — formed like a circle —
with mosses
and ferns for its carpet and great overhanging branches for its roof. "How pretty!" cried
Seseley, gaily. "Let us eat our
luncheon in this lovely banquet-hall!" So Berna and Helda spread
a cloth
and brought from their baskets some golden platters and a store of food. Yet there was little ceremony over the meal,
you may be sure, and within a short space all the children had
satisfied their
appetites and were laughing and chatting as merrily as if they were at
home in
the great castle. Indeed, it is certain
they were happier in their forest glade than when facing grim walls of
stone,
and the three were in such gay spirits that whatever one chanced to say
the
others promptly joined in laughing over. Soon, however, they were
startled to
hear a silvery peal of laughter answering their own, and turning to see
whence
the sound proceeded, they found seated near them a creature so
beautiful that
at once the three pairs of eyes opened to their widest extent, and
three hearts
beat much faster than before. "Well, I must say you do stare!" exclaimed the newcomer,
who was clothed in soft floating robes of rose and pearl color, and
whose eyes
shone upon them like two stars. "Forgive our
impertinence," answered the little Lady Seseley, trying to appear
dignified and unmoved; "but you must acknowledge that you came among us
uninvited, and — and you are certainly rather odd in appearance." Again the silvery
laughter rang
through the glade. "Uninvited!" echoed the
creature, clapping her hands together delightedly; "uninvited to my own
forest home! Why, my dear girls, you are
the uninvited ones — indeed you are — to thus come romping into our
fairy
bower." The children did not open
their eyes
any wider on hearing this speech, for they could not; but their faces
expressed
their amazement fully, while Helda gasped the words: "A fairy bower! We are in a fairy bower!" "Most certainly," was the
reply. "And as for being odd in
appearance, let me ask how you could reasonably expect a fairy to
appear as
mortal maidens do?" "A fairy!" exclaimed
Seseley. "Are you, then, a real
fairy?" "I regret to say I am,"
returned the other, more soberly, as she patted a moss-bank with a
silver-tipped wand. Then for a moment there
was silence,
while the three girls sat very still and stared at their immortal
companion
with evident curiosity. Finally Seseley asked: "Why do you regret being
a
fairy? I have always thought them the
happiest
creatures in the world." "Perhaps we ought to be
happy," answered the fairy, gravely, "for we have wonderful powers
and do much to assist you helpless mortals. And
I suppose some of us really are happy. But,
for my part, I am so utterly tired of a
fairy life that I would do anything to change it." "That is strange,"
declared Berna. "You seem very
young to be already discontented with your lot." Now at this the fairy
burst into
laughter again, and presently asked: "How old do you think me?" "About our own age," said
Berna, after a glance at her and a moment's reflection. "Nonsense!" retorted the
fairy, sharply. "These trees are
hundreds of years old, yet I remember when they were mere twigs. And I remember when mortals first came to
live upon this island, yes — and when this island was first created and
rose
from the sea after a great earthquake. I
remember for many, many centuries, my dears. I
have grown tired of remembering — and of being a fairy continually,
without any change to brighten my life." "To be sure!" said
Seseley, with sympathy. "I never
thought of fairy life in that way before. It
must get to be quite tiresome." "And think of the
centuries I
must yet live!" exclaimed the fairy in a dismal voice.
"Isn't it an awful thing to look forward
to?" "It is, indeed," agreed
Seseley. "I'd be glad to exchange
lives
with you," said Helda, looking at the fairy with intense admiration. "But you can't do that,"
answered the little creature quickly. "Mortals can't become fairies,
you
know — although I believe there was once a mortal who was made
immortal." "But fairies can become
anything they desire!" cried Berna. "Oh, no, they can't. You are mistaken if you believe that,"
was the reply. "I could change you
into a fly, or a crocodile, or a
bobolink, if I wanted to; but fairies can't change themselves into
anything
else." "How strange!" murmured
Seseley, much impressed. "But you
can," cried the fairy, jumping up and coming toward them. "You
are mortals, and, by the laws that govern us, a mortal can change a
fairy into
anything she pleases." "Oh!" said Seseley,
filled
with amazement at the idea. The fairy fell on her
knees before
the baron's daughter. "Please — please,
dear Seseley," she pleaded, "change me into a mortal!" |