XIII.
She went straight to the bed, and taking Rosamond in her arms, sat downwith her by the fire.
"My poor child!" she said. "Two terrible failures! And the more theharder! They get stronger and stronger. What is to be done?"
"Couldn't you help me?" said Rosamond piteously.
"Perhaps I could, now you ask me," answered the wise woman. "When youare ready to try again, we shall see."
"I am very tired of myself," said the princess. "But I can't rest tillI try again."
"That is the only way to get rid of your weary, shadowy self, and findyour strong, true self. Come, my child; I will help you all I can, fornow I CAN help you."
Yet again she led her to the same door, and seemed to the princess tosend her yet again alone into the room. She was in a forest, a placehalf wild, half tended. The trees were grand, and full of the loveliestbirds, of all glowing gleaming and radiant colors, which, unlike thebrilliant birds we know in our world, sang deliciously, every oneaccording to his color. The trees were not at all crowded, but theirleaves were so thick, and their boughs spread so far, that it was onlyhere and there a sunbeam could get straight through. All the gentlecreatures of a forest were there, but no creatures that killed, noteven a weasel to kill the rabbits, or a beetle to eat the snails out oftheir striped shells. As to the butterflies, words would but wrong themif they tried to tell how gorgeous they were. The princess's delightwas so great that she neither laughed nor ran, but walked about with asolemn countenance and stately step.
"But where are the flowers?" she said to herself at length.
They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubsthat grew here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; and inthe grass that grew everywhere there was not a single flower to be seen.
"Ah, well!" said Rosamond again to herself, "where all the birds andbutterflies are living flowers, we can do without the other sort."
Still she could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to make thebeauty of the forest complete.
Suddenly she came out on a little open glade; and there, on the root ofa great oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full offlowers of all colors, but of such kinds as Rosamond had never beforeseen. She was playing with them--burying her hands in them, tumblingthem about, and every now and then picking one from the rest, andthrowing it away. All the time she never smiled, except with her eyes,which were as full as they could hold of the laughter of the spirit--alaughter which in this world is never heard, only sets the eyes alightwith a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the wonderful creaturewould have drawn a tiger to her side, and tamed him on the way. A fewyards from her, she came upon one of her cast-away flowers and stoopedto pick it up, as well she might where none grew save in her ownlonging. But to her amazement she found, instead of a flower thrownaway to wither, one fast rooted and quite at home. She left it, andwent to another; but it also was fast in the soil, and growingcomfortably in the warm grass. What could it mean? One after anothershe tried, until at length she was satisfied that it was the same withevery flower the little girl threw from her lap.
She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly bounded tothe spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there it grew, fastfixed in the earth, and, she thought, looked at her roguishly.Something evil moved in her, and she plucked it.
"Don't! don't!" cried the child. "My flowers cannot live in your hands."
Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered already. She threw itfrom her, offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping her lapfultogether, picked it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke to it,kissed it, sang to it--oh! such a sweet, childish little song!--theprincess never could recall a word of it--and threw it away. Up roseits little head, and there it was, busy growing again!
Rosamond's bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of thechild had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, she drewnear, and said:
"Won't you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful child?"
"There they are; they are all for you," answered the child, pointingwith her outstretched arm and forefinger all round.
"But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them."
"Yes, indeed, I did."
"They can't be mine, if I'm not to touch them."
"If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not yours,and never, never can be yours. They are nobody's when they are dead."
"But you don't kill them."
"I don't pull them; I throw them away. I live them."
"How is it that you make them grow?"
"I say, 'You darling!' and throw it away and there it is."
"Where do you get them?"
"In my lap."
"I wish you would let me throw one away."
"Have you got any in your lap? Let me see."
"No; I have none."
"Then you can't throw one away, if you haven't got one."
"You are mocking me!" cried the princess.
"I am not mocking you," said the child, looking her full in the face,with reproach in her large blue eyes.
"Oh, that's where the flowers come from!" said the princess to herself,the moment she saw them, hardly knowing what she meant.
Then the child rose as if hurt, and quickly threw away all the flowersshe had in her lap, but one by one, and without any sign of anger. Whenthey were all gone, she stood a moment, and then, in a kind of chantingcry, called, two or three times, "Peggy! Peggy! Peggy!"
A low, glad cry, like the whinny of a horse, answered, and, presently,out of the wood on the opposite side of the glade, came gently trottingthe loveliest little snow-white pony, with great shining blue wings,half-lifted from his shoulders. Straight towards the little girl,neither hurrying nor lingering, he trotted with light elastic tread.
Rosamond's love for animals broke into a perfect passion of delight atthe vision. She rushed to meet the pony with such haste, that, althoughclearly the best trained animal under the sun, he started back,plunged, reared, and struck out with his fore-feet ere he had time toobserve what sort of a creature it was that had so startled him. Whenhe perceived it was a little girl, he dropped instantly upon all fours,and content with avoiding her, resumed his quiet trot in the directionof his mistress. Rosamond stood gazing after him in miserabledisappointment.
When he reached the child, he laid his head on her shoulder, and sheput her arm up round his neck; and after she had talked to him alittle, he turned and came trotting back to the princess.
Almost beside herself with joy, she began caressing him in the roughway which, not-withstanding her love for them, she was in the habit ofusing with animals; and she was not gentle enough, in herself even, tosee that he did not like it, and was only putting up with it for thesake of his mistress. But when, that she might jump upon his back, shelaid hold of one of his wings, and ruffled some of the blue feathers,he wheeled suddenly about, gave his long tail a sharp whisk which threwher flat on the grass, and, trotting back to his mistress, bent downhis head before her as if asking excuse for ridding himself of theunbearable.
The princess was furious. She had forgotten all her past life up to thetime when she first saw the child: her beauty had made her forget, andyet she was now on the very borders of hating her. What she might havedone, or rather tried to do, had not Peggy's tail struck her down withsuch force that for a moment she could not rise, I cannot tell.
But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flower justunder them. It stared up in her face like the living thing it was, andshe could not take her eyes off its face. It was like a primrose tryingto express doubt instead of confidence. It seemed to put her half inmind of something, and she felt as if shame were coming. She put outher hand to pluck it; but the moment her fingers touched it, the flowerwithered up, and hung as dead on its stalks as if a flame of fire hadpassed over it.
Then a shudder thrilled through the heart of the princess, and shethought with h
erself, saying--"What sort of a creature am I that theflowers wither when I touch them, and the ponies despise me with theirtails? What a wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be! There isthat lovely child giving life instead of death to the flowers, and amoment ago I was hating her! I am made horrid, and I shall be horrid,and I hate myself, and yet I can't help being myself!"
She heard the sound of galloping feet, and there was the pony, with thechild seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speed forwhere she lay.
"I don't care," she said. "They may trample me under their feet if theylike. I am tired and sick of myself--a creature at whose touch theflowers wither!"
On came the winged pony. But while yet some distance off, he gave agreat bound, spread out his living sails of blue, rose yards and yardsabove her in the air, and alighted as gently as a bird, just a few feeton the other side of her. The child slipped down and came and kneeledover her.
"Did my pony hurt you?" she said. "I am so sorry!"
"Yes, he hurt me," answered the princess, "but not more than Ideserved, for I took liberties with him, and he did not like it."
"Oh, you dear!" said the little girl. "I love you for talking so of myPeggy. He is a good pony, though a little playful sometimes. Would youlike a ride upon him?"
"You darling beauty!" cried Rosamond, sobbing. "I do love you so, youare so good. How did you become so sweet?"
"Would you like to ride my pony?" repeated the child, with a heavenlysmile in her eyes.
"No, no; he is fit only for you. My clumsy body would hurt him," saidRosamond.
"You don't mind me having such a pony?" said the child.
"What! mind it?" cried Rosamond, almost indignantly. Then rememberingcertain thoughts that had but a few moments before passed through hermind, she looked on the ground and was silent.
"You don't mind it, then?" repeated the child.
"I am very glad there is such a you and such a pony, and that such ayou has got such a pony," said Rosamond, still looking on the ground."But I do wish the flowers would not die when I touch them. I was crossto see you make them grow, but now I should be content if only I didnot make them wither."
As she spoke, she stroked the little girl's bare feet, which were byher, half buried in the soft moss, and as she ended she laid her cheekon them and kissed them.
"Dear princess!" said the little girl, "the flowers will not alwayswither at your touch. Try now--only do not pluck it. Flowers oughtnever to be plucked except to give away. Touch it gently."
A silvery flower, something like a snow-drop, grew just within herreach. Timidly she stretched out her hand and touched it. The flowertrembled, but neither shrank nor withered.
"Touch it again," said the child.
It changed color a little, and Rosamond fancied it grew larger.
"Touch it again," said the child.
It opened and grew until it was as large as a narcissus, and changedand deepened in color till it was a red glowing gold.
Rosamond gazed motionless. When the transfiguration of the flower wasperfected, she sprang to her feet with clasped hands, but for veryecstasy of joy stood speechless, gazing at the child.
"Did you never see me before, Rosamond?" she asked.
"No, never," answered the princess. "I never saw any thing half solovely."
"Look at me," said the child.
And as Rosamond looked, the child began, like the flower, to growlarger. Quickly through every gradation of growth she passed, until shestood before her a woman perfectly beautiful, neither old nor young;for hers was the old age of everlasting youth.
Rosamond was utterly enchanted, and stood gazing without word ormovement until she could endure no more delight. Then her mindcollapsed to the thought--had the pony grown too? She glanced round.There was no pony, no grass, no flowers, no bright-birded forest--butthe cottage of the wise woman--and before her, on the hearth of it, thegoddess-child, the only thing unchanged.
She gasped with astonishment.
"You must set out for your father's palace immediately," said the lady.
"But where is the wise woman?" asked Rosamond, looking all about.
"Here," said the lady.
And Rosamond, looking again, saw the wise woman, folded as usual in herlong dark cloak.
"And it was you all the time?" she cried in delight, and kneeled beforeher, burying her face in her garments.
"It always is me, all the time," said the wise woman, smiling.
"But which is the real you?" asked Rosamond; "this or that?"
"Or a thousand others?" returned the wise woman. "But the one you havejust seen is the likest to the real me that you are able to see justyet--but--. And that me you could not have seen a little whileago.--But, my darling child," she went on, lifting her up and claspingher to her bosom, "you must not think, because you have seen me once,that therefore you are capable of seeing me at all times. No; there aremany things in you yet that must be changed before that can be. Now,however, you will seek me. Every time you feel you want me, that is asign I am wanting you. There are yet many rooms in my house you mayhave to go through; but when you need no more of them, then you will beable to throw flowers like the little girl you saw in the forest."
The princess gave a sigh.
"Do not think," the wise woman went on, "that the things you have seenin my house are mere empty shows. You do not know, you cannot yetthink, how living and true they are.--Now you must go."
She led her once more into the great hall, and there showed her thepicture of her father's capital, and his palace with the brazen gates.
"There is your home," she said. "Go to it."
The princess understood, and a flush of shame rose to her forehead. Sheturned to the wise woman and said:
"Will you forgive ALL my naughtiness, and ALL the trouble I have givenyou?"
"If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble topunish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would have carriedyou away in my cloak?"
"How could you love such an ugly, ill-tempered, rude, hateful littlewretch?"
"I saw, through it all, what you were going to be," said the wisewoman, kissing her. "But remember you have yet only BEGUN to be what Isaw."
"I will try to remember," said the princess, holding her cloak, andlooking up in her face.
"Go, then," said the wise woman.
Rosamond turned away on the instant, ran to the picture, stepped overthe frame of it, heard a door close gently, gave one glance back, sawbehind her the loveliest palace-front of alabaster, gleaming in thepale-yellow light of an early summer-morning, looked again to theeastward, saw the faint outline of her father's city against the sky,and ran off to reach it.
It looked much further off now than when it seemed a picture, but thesun was not yet up, and she had the whole of a summer day before her.
XIV.
The soldiers sent out by the king, had no great difficulty in findingAgnes's father and mother, of whom they demanded if they knew any thingof such a young princess as they described. The honest pair told themthe truth in every point--that, having lost their own child and foundanother, they had taken her home, and treated her as their own; thatshe had indeed called herself a princess, but they had not believedher, because she did not look like one; that, even if they had, theydid not know how they could have done differently, seeing they werepoor people, who could not afford to keep any idle person about theplace; that they had done their best to teach her good ways, and hadnot parted with her until her bad temper rendered it impossible to putup with her any longer; that, as to the king's proclamation, they heardlittle of the world's news on their lonely hill, and it had neverreached them; that if it had, they did not know how either of themcould have gone such a distance from home, and left their sheep ortheir cottage, one or the other, uncared for.
"You must learn, then, how both of you can go, and your sheep must takecare of your cottage," said the lawyer, and commanded the soldiers tobind them hand and foot
.
Heedless of their entreaties to be spared such an indignity, thesoldiers obeyed, bore them to a cart, and set out for the king'spalace, leaving the cottage door open, the fire burning, the pot ofpotatoes boiling upon it, the sheep scattered over the hill, and thedogs not knowing what to do.
Hardly were they gone, however, before the wise woman walked up, withPrince behind her, peeped into the cottage, locked the door, put thekey in her pocket, and then walked away up the hill. In a few minutesthere arose a great battle between Prince and the dog which filled hisformer place--a well-meaning but dull fellow, who could fight betterthan feed. Prince was not long in showing him that he was meant for hismaster, and then, by his efforts, and directions to the other dogs, thesheep were soon gathered again, and out of danger from foxes and baddogs. As soon as this was done, the wise woman left them in charge ofPrince, while she went to the next farm to arrange for the folding ofthe sheep and the feeding of the dogs.
When the soldiers reached the palace, they were ordered to carry theirprisoners at once into the presence of the king and queen, in thethrone room. Their two thrones stood upon a high dais at one end, andon the floor at the foot of the dais, the soldiers laid their helplessprisoners. The queen commanded that they should be unbound, and orderedthem to stand up. They obeyed with the dignity of insulted innocence,and their bearing offended their foolish majesties.
Meantime the princess, after a long day's journey, arrived at thepalace, and walked up to the sentry at the gate.
"Stand back," said the sentry.
"I wish to go in, if you please," said the princess gently.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the sentry, for he was one of those dull peoplewho form their judgment from a person's clothes, without even lookingin his eyes; and as the princess happened to be in rags, her requestwas amusing, and the booby thought himself quite clever for laughing ather so thoroughly.
"I am the princess," Rosamond said quietly.
"WHAT princess?" bellowed the man.
"The princess Rosamond. Is there another?" she answered and asked.
But the man was so tickled at the wondrous idea of a princess in rags,that he scarcely heard what she said for laughing. As soon as herecovered a little, he proceeded to chuck the princess under the chin,saying--
"You're a pretty girl, my dear, though you ain't no princess."
Rosamond drew back with dignity.
"You have spoken three untruths at once," she said. "I am NOT pretty,and I AM a princess, and if I were dear to you, as I ought to be, youwould not laugh at me because I am badly dressed, but stand aside, andlet me go to my father and mother."
The tone of her speech, and the rebuke she gave him, made the man lookat her; and looking at her, he began to tremble inside his foolishbody, and wonder whether he might not have made a mistake. He raisedhis hand in salute, and said--
"I beg your pardon, miss, but I have express orders to admit no childwhatever within the palace gates. They tell me his majesty the kingsays he is sick of children."
"He may well be sick of me!" thought the princess; "but it can't meanthat he does not want me home again.--I don't think you can very wellcall me a child," she said, looking the sentry full in the face.
"You ain't very big, miss," answered the soldier, "but so be you sayyou ain't a child, I'll take the risk. The king can only kill me, and aman must die once."
He opened the gate, stepped aside, and allowed her to pass. Had shelost her temper, as every one but the wise woman would have expected ofher, he certainly would not have done so.
She ran into the palace, the door of which had been left open by theporter when he followed the soldiers and prisoners to the throne-room,and bounded up the stairs to look for her father and mother. As shepassed the door of the throne-room she heard an unusual noise in it,and running to the king's private entrance, over which hung a heavycurtain, she peeped past the edge of it, and saw, to her amazement, theshepherd and shepherdess standing like culprits before the king andqueen, and the same moment heard the king say--
"Peasants, where is the princess Rosamond?"
"Truly, sire, we do not know," answered the shepherd.
"You ought to know," said the king.
"Sire, we could keep her no longer."
"You confess, then," said the king, suppressing the outbreak of thewrath that boiled up in him, "that you turned her out of your house."
For the king had been informed by a swift messenger of all that hadpassed long before the arrival of the prisoners.
"We did, sire; but not only could we keep her no longer, but we knewnot that she was the princess."
"You ought to have known, the moment you cast your eyes upon her," saidthe king. "Any one who does not know a princess the moment he sees her,ought to have his eyes put out."
"Indeed he ought," said the queen.
To this they returned no answer, for they had none ready.
"Why did you not bring her at once to the palace," pursued the king,"whether you knew her to be a princess or not? My proclamation leftnothing to your judgment. It said EVERY CHILD."
"We heard nothing of the proclamation, sire."
"You ought to have heard," said the king. "It is enough that I makeproclamations; it is for you to read them. Are they not written inletters of gold upon the brazen gates of this palace?"
"A poor shepherd, your majesty--how often must he leave his flock, andgo hundreds of miles to look whether there may not be something inletters of gold upon the brazen gates? We did not know that yourmajesty had made a proclamation, or even that the princess was lost."
"You ought to have known," said the king.
The shepherd held his peace.
"But," said the queen, taking up the word, "all that is as nothing,when I think how you misused the darling."
The only ground the queen had for saying thus, was what Agnes had toldher as to how the princess was dressed; and her condition seemed to thequeen so miserable, that she had imagined all sorts of oppression andcruelty.
But this was more than the shepherdess, who had not yet spoken, couldbear.
"She would have been dead, and NOT buried, long ago, madam, if I hadnot carried her home in my two arms."
"Why does she say her TWO arms?" said the king to himself. "Has shemore than two? Is there treason in that?"
"You dressed her in cast-off clothes," said the queen.
"I dressed her in my own sweet child's Sunday clothes. And this is whatI get for it!" cried the shepherdess, bursting into tears.
"And what did you do with the clothes you took off her? Sell them?"
"Put them in the fire, madam. They were not fit for the poorest childin the mountains. They were so ragged that you could see her skinthrough them in twenty different places."
"You cruel woman, to torture a mother's feelings so!" cried the queen,and in her turn burst into tears.
"And I'm sure," sobbed the shepherdess, "I took every pains to teachher what it was right for her to know. I taught her to tidy the houseand"--
"Tidy the house!" moaned the queen. "My poor wretched offspring!"
"And peel the potatoes, and"--
"Peel the potatoes!" cried the queen. "Oh, horror!"
"And black her master's boots," said the shepherdess.
"Black her master's boots!" shrieked the queen. "Oh, my white-handedprincess! Oh, my ruined baby!"
"What I want to know," said the king, paying no heed to this maternalduel, but patting the top of his sceptre as if it had been the hilt ofa sword which he was about to draw, "is, where the princess is now."
The shepherd made no answer, for he had nothing to say more than he hadsaid already.
"You have murdered her!" shouted the king. "You shall be tortured tillyou confess the truth; and then you shall be tortured to death, for youare the most abominable wretches in the whole wide world."
"Who accuses me of crime?" cried the shepherd, indignant.
"I accuse you," said the king; "but you shall see, face to
face, thechief witness to your villany. Officer, bring the girl."
Silence filled the hall while they waited. The king's face was swollenwith anger. The queen hid hers behind her handkerchief. The shepherdand shepherdess bent their eyes on the ground, wondering. It was withdifficulty Rosamond could keep her place, but so wise had she alreadybecome that she saw it would be far better to let every thing come outbefore she interfered.
At length the door opened, and in came the officer, followed by Agnes,looking white as death and mean as sin.
The shepherdess gave a shriek, and darted towards her with arms spreadwide; the shepherd followed, but not so eagerly.
"My child! my lost darling! my Agnes!" cried the shepherdess.
"Hold them asunder," shouted the king. "Here is more villany! What!have I a scullery-maid in my house born of such parents? The parents ofsuch a child must be capable of any thing. Take all three of them tothe rack. Stretch them till their joints are torn asunder, and givethem no water. Away with them!"
The soldiers approached to lay hands on them. But, behold! a girl allin rags, with such a radiant countenance that it was right lovely tosee, darted between, and careless of the royal presence, flung herselfupon the shepherdess, crying,--
"Do not touch her. She is my good, kind mistress."
But the shepherdess could hear or see no one but her Agnes, and pushedher away. Then the princess turned, with the tears in her eyes, to theshepherd, and threw her arms about his neck and pulled down his headand kissed him. And the tall shepherd lifted her to his bosom and kepther there, but his eyes were fixed on his Agnes.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the king, starting up from histhrone. "How did that ragged girl get in here? Take her away with therest. She is one of them, too."
But the princess made the shepherd set her down, and before any onecould interfere she had run up the steps of the dais and then the stepsof the king's throne like a squirrel, flung herself upon the king, andbegun to smother him with kisses.
All stood astonished, except the three peasants, who did not even seewhat took place. The shepherdess kept calling to her Agnes, but she wasso ashamed that she did not dare even lift her eyes to meet hermother's, and the shepherd kept gazing on her in silence. As for theking, he was so breathless and aghast with astonishment, that he wastoo feeble to fling the ragged child from him, as he tried to do. Butshe left him, and running down the steps of the one throne and up thoseof the other, began kissing the queen next. But the queen cried out,--
"Get away, you great rude child!--Will nobody take her to the rack?"
Then the princess, hardly knowing what she did for joy that she hadcome in time, ran down the steps of the throne and the dais, andplacing herself between the shepherd and shepherdess, took a hand ofeach, and stood looking at the king and queen.
Their faces began to change. At last they began to know her. But shewas so altered--so lovelily altered, that it was no wonder they shouldnot have known her at the first glance; but it was the fault of thepride and anger and injustice with which their hearts were filled, thatthey did not know her at the second.
The king gazed and the queen gazed, both half risen from their thrones,and looking as if about to tumble down upon her, if only they could beright sure that the ragged girl was their own child. A mistake would besuch a dreadful thing!
"My darling!" at last shrieked the mother, a little doubtfully.
"My pet of pets?" cried the father, with an interrogative twist of tone.
Another moment, and they were half way down the steps of the dais.
"Stop!" said a voice of command from somewhere in the hall, and, kingand queen as they were, they stopped at once half way, then drewthemselves up, stared, and began to grow angry again, but durst not gofarther.
The wise woman was coming slowly up through the crowd that filled thehall. Every one made way for her. She came straight on until she stoodin front of the king and queen.
"Miserable man and woman!" she said, in words they alone could hear, "Itook your daughter away when she was worthy of such parents; I bringher back, and they are unworthy of her. That you did not know her whenshe came to you is a small wonder, for you have been blind in soul allyour lives: now be blind in body until your better eyes are unsealed."
She threw her cloak open. It fell to the ground, and the radiance thatflashed from her robe of snowy whiteness, from her face of awfulbeauty, and from her eyes that shone like pools of sunlight, smote themblind.
Rosamond saw them give a great start, shudder, waver to and fro, thensit down on the steps of the dais; and she knew they were punished, butknew not how. She rushed up to them, and catching a hand of each said--
"Father, dear father! mother dear! I will ask the wise woman to forgiveyou."
"Oh, I am blind! I am blind!" they cried together. "Dark as night!Stone blind!"
Rosamond left them, sprang down the steps, and kneeling at her feet,cried, "Oh, my lovely wise woman! do let them see. Do open their eyes,dear, good, wise woman."
The wise woman bent down to her, and said, so that none else couldhear, "I will one day. Meanwhile you must be their servant, as I havebeen yours. Bring them to me, and I will make them welcome."
Rosamond rose, went up the steps again to her father and mother, wherethey sat like statues with closed eyes, half-way from the top of thedais where stood their empty thrones, seated herself between them, tooka hand of each, and was still.
All this time very few in the room saw the wise woman. The moment shethrew off her cloak she vanished from the sight of almost all who werepresent. The woman who swept and dusted the hall and brushed thethrones, saw her, and the shepherd had a glimmering vision of her; butno one else that I know of caught a glimpse of her. The shepherdess didnot see her. Nor did Agnes, but she felt her presence upon her like thebeat of a furnace seven times heated.
As soon as Rosamond had taken her place between her father and mother,the wise woman lifted her cloak from the floor, and threw it againaround her. Then everybody saw her, and Agnes felt as if a soft dewycloud had come between her and the torrid rays of a vertical sun. Thewise woman turned to the shepherd and shepherdess.
"For you," she said, "you are sufficiently punished by the work of yourown hands. Instead of making your daughter obey you, you left her to bea slave to herself; you coaxed when you ought to have compelled; youpraised when you ought to have been silent; you fondled when you oughtto have punished; you threatened when you ought to have inflicted--andthere she stands, the full-grown result of your foolishness! She isyour crime and your punishment. Take her home with you, and live hourafter hour with the pale-hearted disgrace you call your daughter. Whatshe is, the worm at her heart has begun to teach her. When life is nolonger endurable, come to me.
"Madam," said the shepherd, "may I not go with you now?"
"You shall," said the wise woman.
"Husband! husband!" cried the shepherdess, "how are we two to get homewithout you?"
"I will see to that," said the wise woman. "But little of home you willfind it until you have come to me. The king carried you hither, and heshall carry you back. But your husband shall not go with you. He cannotnow if he would."
The shepherdess looked and saw that the shepherd stood in a deep sleep.She went to him and sought to rouse him, but neither tongue nor handswere of the slightest avail.
The wise woman turned to Rosamond.
"My child," she said, "I shall never be far from you. Come to me whenyou will. Bring them to me."
Rosamond smiled and kissed her hand, but kept her place by her parents.They also were now in a deep sleep like the shepherd.
The wise woman took the shepherd by the hand, and led him away.
And that is all my double story. How double it is, if you care to know,you must find out. If you think it is not finished--I never knew astory that was. I could tell you a great deal more concerning them all,but I have already told more than is good for those who read but withtheir foreheads, and enough
for those whom it has made look a littlesolemn, and sigh as they close the book.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends