Part 8
The marriage took place at once; and Ethelinda's husband proved so kind and loving, that she soon forgot her early sorrows, and became as happy as all queens are supposed to be. Her fame spread into many countries; and after a time, some celebrated traveller, who visited her court, went back to the city where Ethelinda's wicked step-mother still lived and flourished, and gave the Duchess a message from the beautiful Queen of the North Pole.
"Tell her that I forgive her all her unkindness to me," Ethelinda had charged him to say, "since it was the means of securing to me my present joy, and the love of my dearest husband."
Ethelinda even sent gifts to her step-mother and sister; to each a jewelled necklace of immense value, and a robe woven from the down of the King's own eider-ducks, which only sovereigns might wear. The Duchess and Finella eagerly seized the presents, but they almost died of spite to hear of Ethelinda's good luck. Night and day they wondered how they, too, might have similar fortune; and at length the Duchess determined to dress her daughter in coarse clothes like those Ethelinda had worn when found by the King of the North Pole, and to make her sally forth to the border of the forest.
Snow was falling fast when the young woman reached the wood. She was dreadfully cold, and began complaining and quarrelling, as usual. She did not hear the approach of a sleigh until it was close beside her. There sat a handsome youth, driving a fleet coal-black steed. He politely invited her to take a drive, and, with many groans over her stiff limbs, she got in. They flew over the ground, and for not a single minute did Finella cease finding fault with everything. She abused her mother for exposing her to this dreadful cold, and vowed she should have rheumatism and lumbago and pleurisy and influenza, all together, next day. Her feet had chilblains already, and her hands were so chapped they would never be fit to be seen. In this agreeable strain, she went on till her companion, growing impatient of her whining tones, blew a sudden breath upon her--when, behold! all the girl's conversation was frozen on her tongue, a few cross words, like icicles, clinging to the tip of it!
When they stopped at the palace door, the King of the North Pole (for he it was who had picked up Ethelinda's step-sister), instead of having her conducted in state to her apartments by a train of snow-white bears with golden chains about their necks, gave the cross girl in charge to an old brown bear of a housekeeper, with instructions to keep her locked up until the Queen should choose to set her free.
Ethelinda's kind heart softened toward her step-sister; and, begging the King to forgive her, the Queen hastened to set the prisoner at liberty. Finella, dressed in the Queen's own robes, was taken into the royal nurseries to see two splendid rosy babies, rolling upon soft furs, and romping with a gentle little bear-cub, who was their playmate.
When the step-sister saw these treasures, she conceived a wicked scheme of punishing Ethelinda through her love for them. So, pretending to repent of her past follies and unkindness, Finella was allowed by the King and Queen to live in comfort in their home.
On the night of some festivity (I believe it was a special illumination by the Northern Lights), the King and Queen went off sleighing in style, through their dominions, leaving the babies in charge of their deceitful step-aunt, who always kissed them and caressed them, before folks, as though she loved them fondly.
As soon as the parents had disappeared, Finella ordered another sleigh to be harnessed, and taking the babies in her arms set forth. She attempted to guide the reindeer, but, in an instant, the great creatures were off like the wind, and soared up into the air, as the King himself had trained them to do. And now, how terrified was the wicked Finella! She knew no words with which to stop her fiery steeds, and presently sank, breathless and giddy, into the bottom of the sleigh. Higher, faster they went; the babies, like true sons of the frozen North, crowing with delight in the piercing atmosphere.
The sleigh stopped upon an iceberg, and there in the centre of the glittering blue pyramid sat the imprisoned older brother of the King of the North Pole. This wretch had been sentenced to be shut up there, because he had tried to kill his father, the late King. All of his body was changed to ice, excepting his heart, which burnt like fire. The reindeer Finella had taken were those accustomed to be driven by the King whenever he went to visit his wicked brother, whose eyes sparkled as he saw the little princes within his power. At last, he thought, he had a chance to be even with his enemies. He gnashed his teeth, shook his chains, and stretched out his long arms, inviting the travellers to come into his castle.
"I have golden apples and many pretty things for boys in here," he said deceitfully; but just as Finella, seeing her opportunity, was pushing the children out of the sleigh into the grasp of their cruel uncle, the reindeer set up a peculiar cry which could be heard half round the globe.
Instantly a chill wind blew, and riding on the wings of a mighty sea-gull came the King of the North Pole. Fire flashed from his angry eyes, and his face was so terrible that the wicked sister and brother cowered and cringed before it. Snatching his babies in his arms, he replaced them unharmed in the sleigh. For a moment, he seemed about to crush both culprits to fragments in his wrath; but, relenting, he pronounced their sentence--and Finella was condemned to be the bride of the imprisoned brother. "Your fate is just," said the King of the North Pole, to the wretch within the iceberg; "I could not, if I tried, think of any worse punishment than to give you a complaining woman to share your exile."
And so Ethelinda was rid of her false step-sister, and from that day forth nothing occurred to disturb the serenity of the King's household.
As for the old Duchess (whose daughter had got a bridegroom she had not reckoned on in the northern country), she, like her hopeful child, lived and scolded forever and a day.
DEEP-SEA VIOLETS.
In a modest hut upon the sea-shore, half-hidden from sight by an enormous bank of drifted sand, lived a fisherman and his wife, with their twin-children, John and Emma. Theirs was a hard life, and full of privations; but the husband and wife loved each other tenderly and did everything they could to provide for the little ones, who grew up, spite of their poverty, tall and beautiful, and happy as the day was long. Emma and John had a thousand pleasures that town-bred children covet. They chased each other continually up and down the sandy beach, hard as marble and glittering like silver in the beautiful patterns traced on it by the tide. They ran barefoot into the surf, defying the mad onslaught of the merry breakers, and dived fearlessly beneath the crested arch of green waters to seize a bit of floating seaweed. They discovered endless treasures in the rock-pools along the beach, and built with them pretty grottoes, and mysterious caves, that none but themselves knew where to find. Often their father would take them out in the fishing-boat; for John had learned to manage the sail and the nets almost as well as the fisherman himself. The two children thought it was grand to feel the little boat answer to the wind, as a horse answers to voice or whip. They liked to bound forward across the great green billows, and to see the spray dash over them like a shower of jewels. They would help their father to set his nets or lines, and wait patiently till it was time to haul in the big shining fish that sometimes lined the bottom of the boat, whiling away the hours by munching bits of brown bread that served for lunch, and by telling each other fanciful stories of the sea.
The ocean did not always smile upon them, for there were days of heavy fog, of raw east wind, when the beautiful water ceased to sparkle, while the surf boomed as if in warning of danger or sorrow to come. Then the children would run inside the cottage, and pile on drift-wood till the fire burnt cheerily. This was their time for taking down from the mantel-shelf their stores of shells, corals, and other sea-wonders. John and Emma had polished these shells until they shone beautifully, and some tiny disks of orange and gold were strung in long garlands, to loop around the brown walls and above the little looking-glass. Their mother kept the inside of the cottage as neat as a ship's cabin, which, in truth, it much resembled, the children's beds being nothing more than broad shelves in a cupboard, with doors to close by day; while every corner of the tidy place was made to do duty for some household implement, tucked away in the oddest fashion, until it should be needed.
So the days passed on until the twins were about sixteen years old, John a fine manly fellow, looking much older, and Emma a slender slip of a girl, with floating locks of purest gold, and a voice in singing like a carol of birds in a Maybush. Oftentimes when her father was steering his boat homeward, after a day of toil, he would hear the piercing strain of Emma's song come floating over the water from the rock where she stood against the western sky, awaiting him. And he rightly thought this the sweetest sound he was likely to hear before the angels should sing for him in Paradise!
One day the fisherman did not come home. A storm arose, and all that evening the wind howled madly above the beating of the angry surf. The sky was pitch-black, and the wife and children walked the shore in silent fear. When darkness fell, they lighted a huge bonfire upon the rocks, and John, begging his mother and Emma to go home to rest, stayed feeding the flames with drift-wood, till morning broke over the sullen waste of waters. Still no sign of his father, and at midday the familiar boat drifted ashore, bottom upward. Then great sorrow darkened this happy little home; and nevermore the sea gave up her dead.
The fisherman's wife did not long survive him--dying, she told her children, because she could not live without her beloved husband. John followed his father's calling, and Emma kept the house, as her mother had done. She was very sad and solitary in the changed life, but people who work hard have not much time to give way to grief. The busy maiden toiled all day over her duties in-doors, and when evening came, would go out on the rocks to await John's return. The greatest pleasure she now had was in singing. Her voice grew strong and firm, and every day at sunset it might be heard, in waves of melody, mingling with the sound of the breakers on the shore.
One day, when John was later than usual in returning to his supper, Emma wandered along the sands. It was a beautiful summer evening, the sky painted with radiant colors, the sea reflecting them. Here and there a sail dotted the horizon, but the shore was completely deserted. The girl saw before her a rock-pool filled with sea-anemones and star-fish; and, sitting down on the edge of it to study the lovely creatures, she began, as usual, to sing, without knowing that she did so.
Suddenly, over the water came rolling toward her a wonderful chariot formed of a single conch-shell all rainbow-hued within. It was drawn by two dolphins, and the driver was a handsome young man, whose long floating locks were of a changeable green color, tipped with curling white. Before Emma could recover from her astonishment, the youth spoke to her gently, thanking her for the song that had wooed him from his home beneath the sea.
"I am the king of a wonderful country down there," he said, "and if you will but sing for me once more, I shall give you gems and flowers from my own garden, such as never an earth-born maiden owned."
Dipping one hand carelessly over the chariot's edge, the king brought up a string of rare carved coral with a jewelled clasp, and, smiling at Emma's wonder, dipped his hand a second time, when out came a garland of exquisite flowers. Sea-lilies, sea-roses, sea-narcissus, sea-violets there were, larger and more beautiful than any upon land, and all glittering with the ocean brine. Emma stretched out both hands for the pretty things, while a song of joy burst from her lips.
"May I crown your brow with my garland?" said the king. "For truly, I have heard no voice to equal yours."
"Thanks--thanks," cried the innocent girl, her eyes sparkling with delight. She leant forward to receive the chain which the king threw around her neck, at the same time laying the garland on her hair. At once, Emma fell into a deep sleep, and the crafty sea-king, with a look of triumph, lifted her into the seat at his side and urged forward his chafing steeds; the chariot flew like a stormy petrel across the sea, disappearing beneath the arch of a gigantic wave!
John sought in vain for his cherished sister. The only trace of her, he and the neighbors who helped him in the search, could find, was a little gold cross, once her mother's, that Emma always wore. This lay in a crevice of the rock, whence the sea-king had carried her away. The neighbors believed her dead, but something within John convinced him that he should see her yet again. Long and dreary were the winter months without her. John forever wondered about Emma's disappearance; and, when summer came once more, it was to find the youth still possessed of a longing desire to go somewhere in search of her.
Sad and solitary, John was sailing his little fishing-smack along the coast one day, intending to go out to the usual fishing-ground, when, tempted by a creek he noticed now, as if for the first time, a fancy took him to follow up the windings of this silver inlet from the sea, running between banks as green as emerald. Looking into the water, as a light breeze carried him along, John saw a bed of weed and kelp starred with shells, where crabs of an unusual size passed in and out of a circular opening. Determined to fill a basket with these desirable dainties, which would fetch a high price in market, John fished for them so skilfully as to haul up a hand-net brimful, at the first attempt. These were no common crabs he discovered, one of them in particular, having its flippers set with rings of beaten gold, and a gold chain around its body bearing a golden key.
"My good sir," said the crab, speaking in a plaintive voice, "you probably don't know that I am the keeper of the sea-king's summer grotto, and these are my attendants. Only to-day, his majesty sent us word to have all in readiness for a visit from him and his bride-betrothed. We are in the greatest possible hurry, and if it is quite the same to you, would take it as a friendly favor, if you will let us go without delay."
"My good Mr. Crab," said John, laughing, "I should like to oblige such an important person, but really my circumstances are almost as particular as yours. I am in the greatest possible need of funds, and the price you and your friends would fetch at the present market rates is most desirable to me."
"Oh! if it is only gold and silver," said the crab, disdainfully, "you should see his majesty's dominions. Our streets are paved with it."
John became interested at this, and entered into a long conversation with the crab, who was a gossipy old soul and told him of so many wonders of the sea-king's kingdom that the lad could scarcely contain his astonishment.
What startled him more than all, was to hear of a sweet singing maiden, from the upper world, his majesty had kept for a year past imprisoned in a crystal cavern! His heart beat fast with excitement, as the crab described Emma so exactly that it was impossible to mistake her.
"Until the present time," the crab went on, with importance, "his majesty has not told the earth-maiden of his intention to make her his bride. By the laws of our kingdom, no one of us can marry a mortal, until she has lived for a year contentedly below, without uttering the name of any friend she knew in her former estate. But the year is up to-day, and they are to make a grand tour of his majesty's possessions. I should not wonder if the wedding were to take place in our grotto, for that is the king's favorite palace, although only one of the many he calls his own."
"One thing is false! Emma will never marry him, if she is to do it by forgetting those who loved her so tenderly," broke in John, furiously.
"You are very rough, my dear friend," said the crab, fanning himself with his flipper. "I think you forget you are addressing a courtier. What I tell you about the Lady Emma is undoubtedly true, since I have it from my cousin the clam. He is a close-mouthed creature, little likely to spread a false report. Lady Emma is happy as a queen in swansdown. Once a day she sings, and then his majesty always presents her with a bunch of fresh sea-violets, her favorite flowers. Under the circumstances, it is hardly possible she would keep up any of the foolish fancies for earth-born folk she may have brought there."
John pondered awhile, and finally promised the crab, who was growing very impatient, to release that functionary and his companions, if they would permit him to visit the wonders of the sea-king's grotto. The crab, since he could not well help himself, said yes, and instructed John how to dive into the round green hole, so like the nest of some strange fish, he saw at the bottom of the stream.
John made fast his boat, and sprang overboard, having first emptied the net full of captives, who went scuttling to the bottom in very undignified haste. So sure was his aim, that he reached without difficulty the passage-way indicated, which widened from its mouth into a funnel-shaped cavern, lined with seaweed and ferns of the rarest varieties. Following the crab procession, John swam along a crystal streamlet, reaching at length a second opening, larger than the first. Within this was a door formed of a single sapphire. The crab put his golden key into the key-hole, and admitted John into a large and brilliant grotto, the sides lined with the iridescent scales of fish. The roof was encrusted with jewels, through which streamed many colored lights, and clusters of phosphorescent flame gleamed at intervals between pillars of glittering spar. Beneath an arch of blooming sea-flowers, stood a throne made of snowy coral branches, and cushioned with velvet moss. At its foot was a pillow of blue violets, another one hanging at the back. A tiny stream of clear water ran down the cavern's side, and shot up in a fountain in the centre. John's eyes blinked with pleasure when he came into the pretty place, but the sound of approaching music made the crab hurry him into hiding, with the order on no account to risk showing himself in the presence of the king, who would instantly have him hugged to death by a giant devil-fish. John kept quiet, you may be sure. The crabs formed into double rows, bowing and scraping, in token of their deep reverence for the king (they had been selected to be courtiers in consequence of their facility in walking backward), and the sight almost made John laugh aloud; but he was soon reduced to silence, not only by the imposing entry of the monarch of the seas, but because, in the bride-betrothed, he saw indeed his own dear Emma.
Emma was greatly changed in appearance. She now wore a splendid robe of some clinging white stuff, worked with little coral branches and sprays of silver seaweed around the hem, and her neck, arms, and hair were wreathed with row upon row of priceless pearls. She was pale, but more beautiful than ever, and on her breast John saw a knot of big blue violets. Emma was seated at the king's right hand, and lovely sea-nymphs danced before her, to the music of unseen orchestras. Then his majesty asked Emma to sing, pledging her health in a shell full of wine, that shone and sparkled beautifully. Emma made no resistance, doing all that she was bid, like a person walking in her sleep. Her eyes had a far-away look and her voice, in singing, so unearthly a thrill, that John's affectionate heart ached to seize her in his arms and tear her from the spot. When Emma had finished singing, she appeared to be fatigued, and two sea-nymphs bore her to a couch of pearl, laid her on purple cushions, and combed her long hair with a golden comb, while other sea-maidens interlaced their white arms above the girl's head, soothing her to sleep.
"Let her sleep here till this day week," said his majesty. "Then I will summon my subjects and relations to the wedding. All of you present withdraw, now, and on no account disturb her slumber."
When the coast was clear, John seized his opportunity, and stealing forth, knelt beside his sleeping sister, and whispered in her ear. Emma moved, her eyes opened slowly, and uttering a deep sigh, she looked her brother full in the face. But alas! she did not recognize him. In despair, John seized her hand, and tried to urge her to fly with him. He reminded her of her home, of their happy childhood, of their dead parents, of everything that could touch the heart. All in vain! Emma smiled sweetly, and stroked his head as, shedding bitter tears of disappointment, he bent it upon her knees; but she knew him not.
"Leave me in peace," she said, "I am the sea-king's bride-betrothed, and you are but a poor fisher's lad. What you say to me of earth and home I do not understand. This is my home, and if the king should find you here, he would take your head off. If you love me as you say, please go."
Emma lifted to her face the cluster of purple violets, and at once her lids drooped; and, sinking back upon her purple cushions, she slept again.
In bitter disappointment, John retraced his way along the vestibule of the king's grotto and emerged into the inlet where his boat was moored. Carefully marking the spot, he returned to it the next night, but no trace could he find of the submarine opening. The old crab had taken good care to prevent another visit from a marauder, who might cost him his life. John felt ready to abandon all hopes, when, leaning over the edge of the boat, and dragging the water through habit, he felt a violent struggling and fluttering within the net. Hauling it quickly in, a swarm of silver-bright little fishes, each one wearing a pretty maiden's head, escaped from the meshes, leaving behind but a single token, and that John found to be a tiny golden harp. He drew his fingers across the strings, and the sweet sound it gave out was echoed by a sob from beneath a rock ledge close at hand.
"Who is there?" cried John.
"It is I--chief of the sea-king's minstrels," said a voice. "This evening, I and my band were amusing ourselves by the light of the moon, when your cruel net almost frightened us to death. Oh! what shall I do? It's nearly time for the king's visit to his bride-betrothed in the grotto; and if you will not restore to me my harp, I shall be behind-hand, and in disgrace. Oh! if you only knew how strict the leader of the court orchestra is!"
"Will you take me into the grotto, if I give the harp to you?" said John, firmly.
"Oh! I dare not," cried the little mermaid, shivering. "Only yesterday, his majesty found out that some rude outsider had found his way into the grotto, and he has placed on either side of the entrance a double-headed shark. For you to attempt to pass them would be certain death! Pray, pray ask something easier; for every moment is precious to me, now."
"Then tell me what has caused Emma to forget all her life on earth?"