IN THE PALACE
Ruth awoke the next morning to find herself in very comfortable
quarters; for the Bronze King had taken quite a fancy to the pretty
golden-haired little girl. He had told the women of the Palace that,
after she had been properly instructed and educated in all the customs
and laws of the land which it was necessary for her to know, he intended
to marry her and make her the Queen of his Kingdom. She was not treated
cruelly in any way, for she had all the luxuries that any little girl
could wish--a warm comfortable bed in a pretty sunny room, dainty
clothes to wear, and all the delicious food that she could possibly eat.
The women in attendance at the Palace took care of her, and they were
all kind and thoughtful. But they never permitted her to go outside the
Palace grounds, for they feared that she might try to escape, and that,
if she did, the King would lose his bride-to-be. He was utterly selfish
and unjust, and sometimes he was terribly cruel; so that everyone feared
to disobey his orders. The large rose-garden, enclosed by a high brick
wall, was the only spot outside the Palace in which Ruth was permitted
to wander.
Day after day she had her stupid lessons; day after day they made her
repeat the dull, senseless rules of the Kingdom’s Constitution. These
she could neither understand nor remember, and for this reason she made
very little progress. Her teachers, who found themselves growing fond of
the gentle blue-eyed child, felt sorry for her, and wished
[Illustration:
THE LARGE ROSE-GARDEN ENCLOSED
BY THE HIGH BRICK WALL WAS THE
ONLY SPOT OUTSIDE THE PALACE
ITSELF, WHERE RUTH WAS PERMITTED
TO WANDER]
that she might escape her hard tasks. Often and often Ruth herself
thought of the Cobbler’s cottage, and felt that her life would have been
far happier had she remained there. Then she thought of David. And when
her thoughts turned in this direction, her poor heart beat so fast and
ached so sorely that it seemed like a wild bird held within a cruel wire
cage from which there was no escape. What could she do? How could she
ever hope to find David now, since she had lost the trail, lost the Blue
Bird, and was held a captive within the high walls of the Bronze King’s
Palace?
Ruth’s voice was clearer and sweeter than ever, and the King found one
of his chief delights in hearing her sing. Often he would call for
music, bidding her bring her harp that she might play. Then she would
sing, while all within the royal Palace listened. The girl loved her
music above all things else. Often she composed songs that filled her
own heart with delight, for they captured and contained memories of her
old life of the days when David had worked and played with her--those
days that seemed now so long, long ago.
Her voice had an almost magical effect upon those who listened. Sleep
would creep over them one by one till many had closed their eyes and
were wrapped in deep and peaceful slumbers, while her song still filled
the room with music. One after another would drop off to sleep in this
way. Sometimes the first to be affected would be one, sometimes another.
Sometimes the King himself would be the first to sleep; then again he
would remain awake during all the music, according to how weary he might
feel when the song began. So it was with all who listened to her clear
girlish voice.
Once the King said to her: “You will put us all to sleep some day; yes,
every one in the Palace, if you but sing long enough.”
“What a funny sight that would be!” cried Ruth, laughing. “Some day
perhaps I will try it.”
There was one song that she loved particularly. She had written it
herself, and it meant a great deal to her. The words were:
“The forget-me-nots in the meadow
Reflect the sky’s own blue.
As they lift their tiny blossoms
To catch the falling dew.
The Blue Bird flies o’er the meadow;
Through the calm his note is heard.
Lo, the throbbing heart of Nature
Is in tune with the song of a bird.”
Day by day she longed to escape. But that was impossible: she was
watched and guarded. A prisoner! She knew it all too well. The thought
of ever marrying the Bronze King grew more and more terrible to her. “I
can’t do it! I can’t do it!” she would say to herself. “What shall I do?
Oh, David, what shall I do?”
At such times she took up the little forget-me-nots, the poor faded,
dried, dead little things, only the shell of the lovely and fragrant
blue blossoms that she had gathered in the meadow that ill-fated day
when she left the Cobbler’s cottage. She loved them--even these dry
little shells--and she always kept them near her, for they seemed to
contain the memory of all that was most precious to her.
“David!” she cried, “I _won’t_--_I won’t do it_! I WILL NOT MARRY THE
BRONZE KING! _NEVER!_”