Part 3

So occupied was she with looking into the purses, and asking herself whether she ever could take the poor little imprisoned fairy across the bog country that night--for she knew it would have to be to-night if she took her at all--that she forgot all about the tide, which by this time had reached its lowest ebb, and was flowing in again.

The sea grew rough as it turned, and began to rush up the great beach and beat on the outer rocks with a terrible roar.

When Gerna had glanced into the last of her purses she looked about her, and found to her consternation that the sea was a long way up the bar, and the rock on which she sat was almost surrounded by angry water.

It was now quite impossible for her to get to the sands, and the only place not cut off by the sea was a tiny cove--a mere gash in the cliff midway between the two hawns, Pentire and Pentire Glaze. As it was, it was her only place of safety--at least, for a time--and she went to it at once, and sat down, white and frightened, under the cliff that towered darkly above her.

After a few minutes she stood up and shouted with all her might for someone to come to her help, but her shouts were drowned in the loud thunder of the breakers. She shouted until she was hoarse--for she did not want to be drowned, poor child, and she knew there was no way out of the cove except by the cliff, which it was quite impossible for her to climb--and then she again sat down and wept bitterly.

As she was crying and sobbing, a strange noise above her made her look up, and there in a tiny hole in the face of the cliff a few feet above her head she saw the grinning face of a little Dark Man!

'You are caught in a trap,' he said, with a cough, 'and you will surely be drowned if we do not come to your help.'

'Will you help me, dear little Mister Spriggan?' cried Gerna, hope dawning in her eyes.

'Yes, if you will bring back to our goog, when the sea goes out, that precious purse which we know you have found.'

'I cannot do that, 'cause I promised I wouldn't, whatever happened,' said the child, greatly distressed.

'Oh, then in that case we will leave you to the mercy of the sea! Of course, it will drown you, and a good thing too, for it will prevent your doing what the voice asked you to do. We shall have the bag and it in our hands again to-morrow, whilst you will make a dainty dish for the fishes' supper!' and the stone clicked and the ugly little face disappeared.

'Hello! What are you doing down there, and the waves breaking all around you?' cried a voice far up the cliff, and, turning her tearful gaze upwards, Gerna saw kind Farmer Vivian--who looked almost as small as one of the Wee Folk from that great height--looking down upon her. 'A very good thing I gave you those dinky Shoes this morning. Put them on quickly. There is not a moment to lose. In the cliff to your right you will find some steps cut out of the rock. They are very small indeed, but quite large enough for those little green Shoes to climb up on.'

Gerna hastened to obey, and she saw on the face of the cliff a tiny winding stairway. She put her feet on the first stair, and found herself going up and up without fear, and she was soon at the top of the cliff, standing by Farmer Vivian's side.

'There you are, as right as the Small People's change!' said he, with a smile in his eyes, which were as blue as the sea itself, and oh! so gentle and kind. 'Don't take off your Shoes until you have passed all the Piskey Rings, or Spriggan Traps, or whatever they are,' he said, as Gerna turned her face towards her cottage. 'Pentire is full of them to-day--all made since last night, and all the colour of your dear little Shoes.'

'You can't step anywhere without putting your feet on a Ring,' Gerna said to herself, as she hurried home over the great headland. On every Ring she stepped she felt she must stop to dance like a Piskey. And she was not sure, but she thought she saw little dark faces grinning horribly at her from every Ring she passed over.

Great-Grannie was much upset when she heard what dangers her little great-granddaughter had been exposed to, for Gelert had come home with the news a few minutes before that she was drowned, as he could not see her anywhere!

The fright the old woman received showed her how wrong it was to covet the Small People's money, and she gave Gerna a basinful of hot bread-and-milk, and told her she could go to bed if she liked.

The child was worn out with all she had gone through, and went upstairs quite early, as she wanted to rest before taking the little prisoner to the Tolmen that night.

She did not undress before she had taken the ring-marked purse out of the chest once more, and told her wee friend of all that had happened and what she had gone through.

'I don't believe I should ever have got up that great cliff but for those dinky Shoes,' she added when she had told all; 'nor over Pentire Glaze.'

'I am certain you wouldn't,' said the wee voice. 'The Spriggans were all about the cliffs and headland, but they were powerless to hinder your going with those Shoes on your feet. You won't be afraid to take me over the bog now, will you, dear little maid?'

'No, that I shan't,' said Gerna; 'an' I'm a-going to do it to-night. But I must have a bit of sleep first. I hope I shall wake in time, an' that Great-Grannie won't miss me till I get back.'

'She won't miss you,' assured the little voice. 'The excitement she has suffered lately has exhausted her, and she will sleep until you are back in your own little bed again. Take me into bed with you, and put me close under your chin, and when the time is up for us to start I will tickle until I wake you.'

The child was soon in a deep slumber, and it seemed to her she had only just fallen asleep when she felt something tickling her neck.

'Dress quickly!' cried the little voice close to her ear. 'But before you do, let me impress on you once more that I can never repay you for your kindness, and that all you do for me you must do out of the purest pity and love, and for nothing else. So if you have any hankering after the Little People's gold, your journey is sure to end in failure. For the Spriggans, in spite of the Shoes and the Lantern Farmer Vivian gave you, will prevent your reaching the Tolmen, and will make you give me back into their hands, and thrust upon you the golden pieces they have so often offered you, but which will only bring you trouble.'

'I don't want anything for taking you to the place where you are to be set free,' said Gerna simply. 'I am doing it 'cause I love you, an' 'cause I am terribly sorry for you and your little True Love, an' I don't want that wicked Hager to make you marry him.'

'Then let us make haste and go,' said the little voice, trembling with gladness. 'Put the Shoes on your feet before you leave the chamber, and the Lantern and me into the bosom of your frock.'

There was no moon, and Gerna had to dress in the dark. It was soon done, and, with the moss-green Shoes on her feet, the ring-printed bag and the wee Lantern close to her heart, she went down the stairs and out into the night.

There was not a sound to be heard save a weird cry somewhere away on Pentire, which the little voice coming up from the bosom of her frock said was Hager howling because his subjects were telling him that he must now give up all hope of ever taking to wife his poor little prisoner. 'You must not be afraid of whatever sounds you hear,' continued the little voice.

'Are we going the right way?' asked Gerna. For the Shoes were taking them up a rough, steep road behind their cottage.

'Yes, quite right; the Shoes know the way--trust them for that! Don't worry about anything; only hold me as close as you can to your warm little heart. We shall have to warm each other when we come to the bog country. It is bitterly cold there.'

On and on Gerna went with her precious burden, through long lanes, up and down steep hills, over sandy commons and furze-brakes, and so fast that she could not have spoken even if she wanted to!

At last she drew near the bog lands, lying flat between two high Tors.

'It's terribly cold here,' she said, when the Shoes stuck in the ground for a minute, 'and ever so dark, except where there are little lights shining out of the dark like cats' eyes!' and she began to shiver with cold and fear.

'Don't be afraid, dear child,' said the sweet little voice, in which there was no sadness now. 'The hobgoblins are out in the bog, and as they are near relations of the Spriggans, they are hand in glove with them. The Spriggans feared you would pass over this bog to-night, and have set their relations to watch. But they are not so clever as they thought themselves. They know you have the Shoes, but they don't dream you possess that wee Lantern too.'

'Is the Lantern any good?' asked Gerna in surprise. 'Farmer Vivian said it was only big enough to light home a benighted dumbledory.'

'It was a joke about the dumbledory,' laughed the little voice. 'It can do much more than that. It has the power of making you invisible, and its light will, if you hold it on the little finger, shine in on your heart and keep it warm.'

'What wonderful things there are nowadays!' exclaimed the child.

'Aren't there?' cried the little voice, with another happy laugh. 'The Lantern will not only give warmth if so held, and cloak you from the hobgoblins and wicked Spriggans, but will also give you courage, which you will need crossing this bog country.'

It was well Gerna was told all this before the Shoes began to take her over that dreadful bog. The mists rose thick and cold as she advanced, and crept over her with such chilling power that she felt as cold as a conkerbell, [8] she told herself. And the countless little lights, or eyes, or whatever they were, were horrid, and seemed to glaze [9] at her whichever way she looked. There were groans and sighs, too, which filled her with a nameless terror, and but for the cheerful little voice, which every now and again told her not to be afraid, and the white, clear shining of the tiny Lantern, she would have turned back.

By the time the bog was crossed, which she afterwards learned was by a narrow causeway, just wide enough for two small feet to walk on, she was chill to the very bone and terribly tired.

It was well on towards the sunrising by this time, and there was yet that wild moor to cross before she reached the Tolmen, and she was afraid she would never be able to reach it in time.

She was growing more and more weary every minute, and the Shoes, although they could guide and take her over the most difficult places, did not seem to be able to give her strength.

'Do you think we shall get to the Tolmen before the sun gets up?' asked the little voice anxiously.

'I don't know,' Gerna answered in a low, weary voice. 'The moon is up, I think--all there is left of it, I mean--and I can see another light shining somewhere away in the east.'

'It must be later than I thought,' said the wee voice, and the little creature within the bag began to tremble with apprehension. 'Do make haste, dear little maid! It would be quite too dreadful to be too late after all you have done to free me from Hager's power.'

'I am awfully tired,' was the child's answer. 'If I could only rest a few minutes I could go faster afterwards. Shall I? I am ready to drop.'

'You must not sit down until you have reached the Tolmen. I am certain the Spriggans are following in our wake. They are throwing their Thunder-axes [10] over every moving thing they can see, and over every motionless thing they can touch, and if they should happen to knock against you and throw one over you, they have power to keep you helpless to move until the sun has risen.'

'Why didn't they do that when I was in danger of being drowned?' asked Gerna.

'The Thunder-axes are no good except just before the rising of the sun, or the Spriggans would not be following us to use them now. You won't give up now, whatever it costs, will you, dear?'

'Not if I can help it,' said the child wearily.

She kept going on until she reached higher ground, where she saw standing out in the semi-darkness of the early morning a great Tolmen on the brow of the moor, and over it hanging like a hunter's horn the silver curve of the old moon.

A cry of gladness broke from Gerna's lips as she saw it, which must have made all the bad little fairies, if any were about, slink away in dismay, and the sight so cheered her that her weariness left her for a time, and she sped on like a hare until she dropped down by the big stone's side.

'We have reached the Tolmen, have we not?' asked the little voice, all a-tremble with joy.

'Yes,' panted the child; 'and the sun isn't up. I am awful glad--aren't you?'

'More glad than I dare say, dear little maid. But I am not out of prison yet. Is there any hint of the sunrise?'

'There is a pinky light over one of the Tors,' answered Gerna.

'Ah! then you must pass me through the Tolmen's hole at once. Three times, remember,' as Gerna put her hand in the bosom of her frock and drew out the tiny bag.

The brambles had grown up around the gray stone's hole, and almost blocked the way to it, and it was minutes before she could tear them aside and get into the opening; but she did so at last, and passed the prison-bag three times through the hole as she was bidden. As she did so, the sky in the east grew brighter and brighter, and she knew from that sign that the sun was about to rise.

'Now place the prison and me, its prisoner, on the top of the Tolmen,' cried the little voice--'longways to the east it must lie; and when you have done that, stand by the Holed Stone very quietly, then wait and see what will happen.'

Gerna did as she was told, and stood on a high bank of fragrant thyme at the head of the hoary old granite stone, with its great hole, her face towards the sunrising.

She herself was very quiet, as was also the little prisoner, but all the great wild moor was now full of music. The linnets were already twittering in the bushes, and many larks were high in the sky, singing to greet another dawn. As they sang, the east grew more and more beautiful, and behind the great Tors the sky was a wonderful rose on a background of delicate gold.

Gerna thought the sun would never show himself, and she was too tired to appreciate all the wonder of the sunrise, though she was glad enough to hear the birds singing, for it made her feel she was not so very far from home, after all.

At last the sun, red-gold and very large, wheeled up behind the shoulder of a Tor and flung out a great lance of flame across the moorland, which smote the small ring-marked purse lying on the Tolmen.

Gerna, whose gaze was now riveted on the purse, saw its ends open like a gasping fish, and then shrivel up, and in its black ashes sat the most beautiful little creature it was possible to conceive. She was so lovely and so dainty that the child could only stare at her open-mouthed with wonder and amazement.

'How can I ever thank you, dear little Gerna, for all you have done for me!' said the radiant creature, looking up into the child's amazed eyes. 'All the Wee Folks' treasures will not be deemed reward enough for the child who preferred to be compassionate than to be made rich with fairies' gold. I should not be sitting here free from that,' pointing to the shrivelled-up blackness which was once a Spriggan's prison, 'but for you, dear. Are you not glad you are the means of setting me free and bringing me unspeakable happiness?'

'Iss,' said Gerna, hardly knowing what she was saying, her eyes still drinking in the beauty of the little fairy. 'Aw!' she exclaimed, 'you are a dear little lovely, sure 'nough--better than all the Small People's golden pieces. You don't look a bit old, nuther.'

'You thought I should look as old as your Great-Grannie, didn't you?' laughed the happy little creature. 'The Small People show their age by looking younger and fairer--at least, the royal fairies do.'

She got on her feet as she spoke, and gazed over the great moor, and as she gazed, her face, which had the delicate pink of a cowry-shell, grew more beautiful, and a tender, happy light crept into her speedwell-blue eyes.

'There is a friend of yours crossing the moor,' she said in her sweet voice, which was more than ever like the note of a bird, only sweeter and clearer.

'Why, 'tis Farmer Vivian!' cried the child. 'However did he get here? I do hope he won't want to have you,' glancing at her lovely little friend anxiously. 'I don't know what I shall do to hide 'ee if he should. I couldn't put beautiful little you in my underskirt pocket or into the bosom of my frock.'

'Why not?' asked the dainty little creature, smiling. 'I lay there close to your heart all this night, and a warmer, truer little heart I shall never rest against. But you need not fear Farmer Vivian on my account. He, of all persons, would not hurt any of the Good Small People for a king's crown, much less me.'

'He is getting smaller!' exclaimed Gerna. 'Why, he is a teeny, tiny Farmer Vivian now! Ah, dear! how queer everything is! Everything is queer an' funny since I picked up that purse with the rings 'pon it an' dear little you inside.'

'Cannot you guess who he is?' asked the little fairy, her lovely wee face more tender than the June sky over them.

'No,' returned the wondering child. 'Who is he?'

'My own little True Love!' answered the fairy, her eyes a blue light. 'We are meeting each other after a century of black years. He was my True Love all the time in the form of big Farmer Vivian! For love of poor little me he kept in the neighbourhood of Piskey Goog all that time.'

It was all so surprising that Gerna told herself she would never be surprised any more whatever happened. And when the two Wee Lovers, separated by cruel Fate for one hundred years, met and greeted each other in lover fashion, all over the great moor broke the sound of pealing bells, so tiny and so silvery and with such music in their tones the like of which Gerna had never in all her life heard before. And where the bells were rung from she never knew, for there were no steeples or towers anywhere that she could see. As the bells' music rang on, and all the little moorland birds sang more entrancingly than before, she saw hundreds and hundreds of the Small People, all more or less beautiful, come out from behind clumps of Bog-myrtle, and banks of thyme, and beds of sweet-scented orchis, [11] all laughing and singing as they came towards the Tolmen, where the dear Little Lady and her True Love were standing hand in hand, smiling and bowing and looking as happy as ever they could look.

The little prisoner, who was now a prisoner no longer, seemed to be a very great personage indeed, the child thought, judging by the way the Wee Men took off their caps and bowed to her, and the little ladies made their curtseys; and in truth she was a real Princess, the eldest daughter of the King and Queen of the Good Little People, as Gerna was soon to learn.

There was great rejoicing when the Wee Folk heard how their Princess Royal had been set free, and how much Gerna had done towards it. They could not make enough of her, or do enough for her. They kissed her hands, as if she too were a Royal Princess, instead of being only a poor little Cornish peasant girl! They brought her fairy mead--metheglin they called it--in cups so small yet so exquisite ('like Cornish diamonds, only more lovely,' Gerna said), and gave her food to eat from dishes all iris-hued like the shells that she had picked up on the sands in her own bay, only the Small People's dishes were much thinner and more transparent than any shells she had ever seen.

She was never 'treated so handsome before,' she told herself--scores and scores of dear wee creatures to wait on her and to give her more when she wanted!

When she could not eat 'a morsel more,' nor drink another cup of the all-sweet mead, her own Little Lady and her True Love, who had been sitting close to her all this time on a bed of yellow trefoil, rose up and took her through a rock-door behind the Tolmen and down into a most beautiful place--much more beautiful than she could ever have pictured in her wildest dreams.

It was the country where the Good Little People lived, 'Farmer Vivian' told her. She saw so much that she could take in nothing until they came to the King's Palace, which was the most beautiful palace in fairyland. Here she was taken into room after room--each more beautiful than the last--until she came to a place called the 'Room of the Chair,' which was full of soft voices, fragrant smells, and sweet music. This room was open to the blue dome of the sky, and away at the end of it, on a Chair, sat two Wee People with eyes the colour of her dear Little Lady's. They were not different from the other Small People surrounding the Chair, save that they had 'things on their heads,' as Gerna expressed it (which, of course, were crowns), that shone like the blue of the sea when the sun shines on it, and that they looked even more gracious and more gentle and kind than did her own Little Dear.

When the King and Queen of the Good Little People had lovingly welcomed back their long-lost daughter, and complimented their child's betrothed--who was also a very great personage in the Small People's Kingdom--for his constancy and fidelity to their dear daughter, Gerna, in her print sunbonnet and sun-faded tinker-blue frock, was introduced to their gracious Majesties as the dear little Cornish maid who preferred to be kind rather than be made rich with the Small People's gold.

Pages could be filled with what the King and Queen said to the child, who never felt so uncomfortable in her life as when they thanked her and praised her for all she had done.

'I haven't done nothing much--nothing worth a thank'ee, I mean,' she kept saying.

'Thou hast done more than thou wilt ever know,' said his tiny Majesty solemnly, 'and we feel we can never repay thee. We could, of course, reward thee with more gold than the Spriggans offered, but we are glad to know thou would'st not value it if we gave it thee. But as we are anxious to show we are not ungrateful, we will give thee the greatest of all gifts--the eye to see all that is good and beautiful in human hearts, and the power to bring it out, which alone will make thee greatly beloved. We will also teach thee to love the lowly grass as we ourselves love it, and the humble herbs, and all the gentle flowers, which make all the common roadways, moors and downs, so fragrant and beautiful. We will reveal to thee all their charms, virtues, and healing properties, so that Gerna, the maid of Polzeath, may be a blessing to her parish. And, moreover, the Good Small People shall love thee as they have never loved a human being before--not only for the sake of our beloved child, the Princess Royal of all the Good Little People, but because thou art kind and good and could not be induced to do an unkind deed even for a purseful of the Spriggans gold.'