Fairy Book by Sophie May (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📖

he loosened his greedy clutch at the purse. “No matter how bravely it shines! it is not my gold; and it is too heavy for me to carry. Stolen money is worse than a mill-stone about one’s neck, so my mother says.”

“Keep the purse, little boy,” said a sweet voice close by his elbow. He turned, and saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam, and clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture.

“I will be your friend, little boy. That purse was dropped by a lady who wears a fur cloak and long veil. If she asks for her treasure, I can say it fell into a hole in the ground. Everybody believes me: never fear!”

“Poor misguided angel!” said the boy, amazed by her wondrous beauty no less than by her apparent want of truth. “You are, indeed, a lovely little tempter; but I have a dear mother at home, and I love her better than a million pieces of gold. I must go to the town, and seek out this lady you mention, who wears a fur cloak and long veil.”

“Nay, if you will be so stupid,” said the shining child, “why, I will even go with you, and show you the way.”

So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered youth, she led him out of the forest, into the most crowded part of the city, up to the door of a splendid mansion; but, when Thule turned his head only an instant, she was gone, and no trace of her was to be seen: she seemed to have melted into sunshine.

The lady of the house received the purse with thanks, and would gladly have given Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the boy longed for it, he put it aside, saying, “No, madam: my mother assures me I must be honest without the hope of reward. She would not like me to take wages for not being a thief!”

The next morning the alder-tree had grown another foot; and Thule and his mother watched the growing leaves, and touched them with reverent fingers. They were certainly of a tender green, lined with shining silver.

“May Odin favor my pretty alder!” said Thule; “nor let the frost pinch it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!”

Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged off to the forest as usual. But he seemed doomed to adventures; for this time he was met by three armed men, who were roaming the country as if seeking something.

“Prithee, little urchin,” said one of the men, “can you tell us what has become of a young alder-tree, whose green leaves are lined with silver?”

“I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs,” replied the boy, trembling, and remembering that his mother had said she was almost afraid of that little tree.

“There are many alder-bushes,” said another of the men gruffly; “but only one is green at this time of year, and has silver-lined leaves. It was placed here by command of the giant Loki, and no one was to touch it under pain of death; for, when his mountain-garden should be laid out in the spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and planted therein.”

Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if a frost-giant had suddenly breathed on him. He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared by all, and beloved by none,—a god who had an especial grudge against the whole human race.

“I will hold my peace,” thought Thule. “I will never confess that the tree I carried away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten home, pluck up the bush, and burn it: then who will be the wiser?”

But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could not forget his good mother’s counsel:—

“Your words, my boy, let them be truth, and nothing but truth, though a sword should be swinging over your head.”

Then, as soon as his voice returned to him, he confessed that the tree he had removed was really just such an one as the men described, and begged for mercy, because, as he said, he had committed the sin ignorantly, not knowing the mandate of the terrible giant.

But the men bade Thule lead them to his mother’s house, and point out his stolen treasure; declaring that they could show no mercy; for, when Loki had made a decree, no man should alter it by one jot or one tittle.

“Oh!” thought the unfortunate boy, wringing his hands, and trembling till the woollen tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, “oh, if the cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief, would only come forward now, and help me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to invoke him; for it is now broad daylight, and the sun would strike him into a stone image in a twinkling.”

When Thule, followed by the messengers of Loki, had reached the door of his cottage, he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling the roots of the beautiful alder, and fondling its leaves with innocent pleasure. At sight of the armed men, she started back in affright.

“It is indeed the giant’s tree,” said the men to Thule. “Pluck it up, and follow us with it to Loki’s castle on the mountain.”

“To Loki’s castle!” shrieked the wretched mother. “Then he must pass a frightful wilderness, be assailed by the frost-giants; and, if there be any breath left in him, Loki will dash it out at a glance! Have mercy on a poor old mother, O good soldiers!”

The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it came out of the ground of its own free will; and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its branches into arms, and in another moment was no longer a tree, but a child, with a beauty as dazzling as sunshine.

“Unfortunate men!” said she, in a voice whose angriest tones were sweeter than the music of an Æolian harp, “unfortunate are you in being the servants of Loki! Go, tell your cruel master that the schemes he has plotted against me and mine have all failed: my enchantment is over forever. Yonder boy,” said she, pointing to little Thule, “has saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of light, as playful and harmless as sunshine. The merciless Loki, enraged at the love I bear the children of men, changed me to a little alder-tree, which is the emblem of girlhood. But he had no power to keep me in that form forever. He was obliged to make a condition, and he made the hardest one that his artful mind could invent: ‘Since you love mortals so dearly,’ said he, ‘no one but a mortal shall free you from your imprisonment. You shall remain a tree till a good child shall touch you,—a child who is generous enough to SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A STRANGER, honest enough to GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR HIS HONESTY, brave enough to SPEAK THE TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS LIFE. Long shall you wait for such a deliverer!’

“Now how amazed will Loki be when he learns that this little boy has been tempted in all these particulars, yet proves true. My poor soldiers, you may return whence you came, for the alder-tree will never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden of Loki.”

Then the men disappeared, not sorry that the good boy had escaped his threatened doom.

Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and I fancy that many a boy, even at the present day, would have felt rather bewildered under the circumstances.

“Shining child!” said he: “you look vastly like the wonderful little being who led me out of the forest yesterday.”

“That may well be,” replied the elf of light; “for she is my sister. The brown dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree is also an excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead. He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave and generous and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could not be tempted to steal!”

Thule’s mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now she came forward, and said,—

“I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on the battle-field!”

The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration, remained Thule’s fast friend as long as he lived. She gave the lad and his mother an excellent home, and made them happy all the days of their lives.

THE PRINCESS HILDA.

Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window, looking out upon her garden of flowers. She was very beautiful, with a face as fair and sweet as a rose. Not far off sat, watching her, her young cousin Zora, with a frown on her brow.

There was bitter hatred in Zora’s heart because Hildegarde was rich and she was poor; because Hildegarde would, in time, be a queen, and she one of her subjects. Moreover, Hildegarde was so beautiful and good that the fame of her loveliness had spread far and wide; and it was for her beauty that Zora hated her more than for any thing else.

In childhood Zora had been very fair; and the courtiers had petted her, and pronounced her even fairer than the princess; but her beauty had never meant any thing but bright eyes and cherry cheeks: so it could not last. If she had only cherished pure thoughts and kind wishes, she might still have been as lovely as Hilda; but who does not know that evil feelings write themselves on the face?

Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at the corners; deceit had given it a foolish smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in her brow; while she had tried so many arts to make her rich brown skin as delicately white as Hilda’s, that it was changed to the tint of chrome yellow.

It was said in those days, that Zora was in the power of wicked fairies, who twisted her features into the shape that pleased them best.

At any rate, how the amiable Princess Hilda was to blame for all these deformities it would be hard to say; and she little dreamed of the malice in her cousin’s heart.

But, while Hilda was looking out of the window, a noble knight passed that way; and so delighted was he with the rare sweetness of her face, that he forgot himself, and paused a moment to gaze at her. The princess blushed, and let fall the silken curtain; but Zora had seen the knight, and knew he was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground her teeth in rage; for she had determined that the prince should never see her beautiful cousin.

“They shall not meet,” said she to herself: “no, not if there are bad fairies enough to prevent it.”

But, when the princess looked up, Zora was smiling very sweetly. Who could have dreamed that she was thinking of nothing but how to ruin the peace of her gentle cousin?

Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so eager was she to do her wicked work. When it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out of the castle, wearing a black mantle which hid her face.

“Now,” thought she, “no one can recognize me, and