FAIRYLAND.
Notwithstanding his fantastical babble to Macandrew, Gerald was a
shrewd young man. He prosecuted his search for the unknown sender of
the message, less to find a wife than to see the end of the adventure.
At the enjoyable age of thirty, he was not particularly keen on
getting married, although his friends persistently advised him to do
so. But, as Haskins pertinently observed, it was absurd to marry
merely for marrying's sake. "When I meet THE woman," said Gerald
wisely, "I shall ask her to be my wife. Otherwise----" And a shrug
would complete the unfinished sentence.
Tod was quite ready to leave the conclusion of the fishing adventure
to his friend. Being in love with a particular girl, he thought of her
only, and had no wish to search for another girl, even though she were
an illiterate princess, who fluted like a nightingale. What with
earning his living, and fighting Lady Euphemia, and wooing Charity
Bird, and tricking Mrs. Pelham Odin, who was strongly opposed to that
wooing, Macandrew's hands were quite full. Within two days he betook
himself to London, keen upon seeing _The Moon Fay_ ballet, in which
Charity was dancing. But before his departure he unwittingly did
Gerald a service by learning something about the Pixy's House, and
that same something was less romantic than unpleasant.
According to Tod the thing came about by accident; but Haskins, who
believed that everything was designed, even to the winking of an eye,
insisted that Macandrew had been purposely lured into conversation
with the laborer, who had mentioned Leegarth, and the Pixy's House. At
a nine o'clock breakfast, on the very day of his departure, Tod
mentioned to his friend that he had been taking a morning walk. "I had
a beastly wakeful night last night," grumbled Tod, while Geary brought
in a dish of trout and some hot rolls, "it made me sick tumbling and
tossing, so I dressed and strolled out at six o'clock."
"Why didn't you waken me?" asked Haskins. "I would have come also."
"Not you. I'd have been cursed for an hour. Every one knows what an
infernal sleepy-head you are, Jerry. However, I walked up the hill on
to the moors, and had a glorious view of the surrounding country. I
saw the stream where we fished, in the hollow two miles away--trees,
and occasional glimpses of the water, you know. And ever so far away,
there was a square-towered church with a cluster of red-roofed
houses."
"Quite poetical, my Toddy," murmured Gerald, helping himself to eggs
and ham, and rather bored by this geographical description.
"The morning made me poetical!" said Macandrew simply, "it was
uncommonly ripping, you know. There was a laboring Johnny coming
along, and I asked him the name of the church. He said it was Leegarth
church, and Leegarth village."
"H'm! That's where Rebb's wealthy relative lives?"
Todd nodded. "As it was early I had a mind to walk over and look
about, but I first asked the man if there was anything of interest to
see. He grinned, and told me that I might call at the Pixy's House."
Gerald looked up and was about to speak eagerly when Geary appeared
again with a fresh supply of rolls. "Oh, the Pixy's House," said
Haskins carelessly, "what's that?"
"Why, you know----" began Tod foolishly, when he caught sight of a
warning scowl on Haskins' face, and a look of interest on that of
Geary's, "you know," went on Tod artfully, "that I can't talk if you
interrupt."
"But it's all so dull," objected Haskins, with a shrug.
"Not what I am about to tell. This laborer said that a lunatic lived
in the Pixy's House, looked after by another lunatic."
"The blind leading the blind. Go on."
"The first lunatic is a girl, and the second an old woman. The girl
never comes out, and no one has ever seen her, but the old woman does
shopping and all the rest of it. That's all."
"What infernal rubbish!" said Haskins crossly. He did not like his
unknown princess to dwindle to a commonplace lunatic. And yet, when
he remembered the spoken message, it did seem a trifle mad. "Well, and
did you call at the Pixy's House?"
"Not me. I walked in another direction, and came back to breakfast. I
have no use for crazy people."
"Wid all respect, jemplem," remarked Mr. Geary unexpectedly, "de story
ob dat man is all twisty-turney."
"Oh!" said Haskins, apparently careless, but really with anxiety, "so
you know of this queer business, Geary?"
"Berry lil'--oh, berry lil', sah. Dat Pixy House ver' ole, an' ver'
tumbledown in heaps. Only one mad pusson dere, jemplem."
"Which one--the old woman or the young one?" asked Tod abruptly.
"Oh, dey boff dere, jemplem, but de young lady is de mad pusson. She
bin dere afore I come--years an' years an' years--oh, ebber so long
'go. Dis pou' lady, she want to kill peoples wid knives, and de ole
womans, she watch her dat she no get out to kill. De ole woman's not a
mad pusson, jemplem; oh no, dat all wrong. She watch de odder. You no
go near dat Pixy House, jemplem," ended the landlord earnestly, "or
dat young lady, she kill you boff, dead as coffin-lids."
Haskins felt disgusted. He desired to find Fairyland, and it seemed as
though his search would end in discovering a lunatic asylum. "What is
the lunatic's name?" he asked.
"Mavis Durham, I tink, an' de ole womans, she called Bellaria!"
"Funny names," mused Tod, "and rather pretty. Mavis means a thrush, I
fancy. But Bellaria?"
Gerald recalled a charming book of Italian folklore, which he had read
some months before. "Bellaria was the Etruscan dawn goddess, or the
goddess of flowers, I forget which," he remarked; "strange that any
one in a secluded Devonshire village should be called so. H'm! Is this
old woman an Italian, Geary?"
"I do not know, sah," replied the man promptly. "I no go to dat
Leegarth, no, never, never. And you no go too, jemplem. Dat Mavis lady
hab de knife in you if you go dere."
"Homicidal mania," said Tod learnedly and cheerfully.
Haskins shuddered; it seemed terrible to think that the owner of that
silvery voice, who had sent so delightfully quaint a message, should
be a dangerous lunatic not responsible for her actions. When the
landlord took his departure he made an observation, rather to himself
than to his friend. "The message was sane enough," he said, thereby
contradicting his first impression, when Geary spoke of the lunacy.
"Well, I don't know," answered Macandrew doubtfully, "all that fairy
business and talk of not being able to read or write seems queer. I
suppose you'll chuck the adventure, now that you know this?"
"Probably!" said Haskins evasively, so that Tod should not worry him.
But in his heart he had a longing to probe the matter deeper.
Later in the day Gerald escorted Tod to Selbury, and saw him off to
London. Macandrew left with the impression that Gerald would carry out
his prearranged programme and travel to St. Ives on the ensuing day.
But when Haskins walked back to Denleigh he was far from having made
up his mind to such a course. It seemed incredible that the sender of
the message should have homicidal tendencies. All the same, if she had
not, the law would certainly have prevented her incarceration in the
old Leegarth mansion known as the Pixy's House. That she could not
read or write was quite possible, since she had used the phonograph,
and yet, in this age of education, it appeared improbable that anyone
could be so ignorant. The wording of the message was that of an
imaginative, but not of a weak, brain; and the spirit of poetry it
breathed appealed to the young man, himself a poet of no mean order.
"On the whole," decided Gerald, "I shall go to Exeter to-morrow and
get that canoe."
On that same evening, when Geary went for his usual walk, Haskins
again slipped the record into the machine, and again drank in the
music of that perfect voice. Then, for the sake of hiding his secret,
since the landlord unexpectedly returned, he set the phonograph to
grind out the godly hymns which were Geary's delight. These were
dismal enough in words and tunes, but all through them sounded in
Gerald's charmed ears the silvery lilt of the Fairy Princess' tones.
The owner of such a voice could not possibly be crazy.
Haskins rather regretted that he had not asked Major Rebb about the
Pixy's House and its occupant. Rebb doubtless knew the village of
Leegarth excellently well, since he came down occasionally to see his
elderly relative. For the moment Haskins was tempted to write and ask
questions, but on second thoughts he made up his mind to explore for
himself. He was even glad that Tod had departed, for now the secret
was entirely his own, and he wished to share it with no one. He
therefore abstained from talking to Geary on the subject, for he had
learned all that was possible from that source. And what he had
learned was so decidedly unpleasant that he did not wish to hear more.
As it afterward turned out his reticence was wise.
The next day Haskins informed Geary of his intention to remain in
Denleigh for another week, and the negro expressed his delight at the
decision. Adonis was a cheerful soul, who had traveled widely, in the
humble capacity of a steward on board various liners. He therefore
approached more intellectual society than he could obtain in lethargic
Denleigh. Haskins, with an eye to copy, after the fashion of the
literary man, found Geary's experiences both entertaining and useful.
As for the landlady, she was a nonentity, who worked like a horse,
and was as dumb as one. She seemed to be somewhat afraid of her
ever-smiling husband, and Gerald thought that there might be some
cause for such dread. With all his suave manners, Geary's one eye
hinted at sinister doings. But, as yet, Haskins, knowing him only on
the surface, had no fault to find with his personality.
There was some difficulty in finding a precisely suitable canoe
in Exeter, but having made up his mind--a singularly obstinate
one--Gerald never rested until he had attained his object. In a couple
of days he returned to the Devon Maid with a light birchwood affair,
which he had purchased from a returned Canadian emigrant. This the
young man temporarily bestowed in an outside shed, and informed his
landlord, casually, that he intended to explore the waters of the
Ruddle, as the stream was called. The name evidently came from the
streaky red banks between which it flowed. Geary advised his guest to
travel downstream toward Silbury, as the canoe would there be impeded
by fewer stones. Needless to say, as Leegarth was in precisely the
opposite direction, Haskins had no intention of taking this well-meant
advice. And, indeed, because of the very difficulty in navigating the
upper reaches of the Ruddle, he had purchased the canoe, for he could
carry so light a craft along the banks when stones and weeds blocked
up the waterway.
When Gerald took his Indian coracle down to the river, next afternoon,
he saw how wise he had been in not buying a heavier boat. As the
little stream wound its devious way through the dense woods it grew
yet more narrow, and, on the whole, somewhat shallow. Here and there
deep pools were to be found, inshore, but as a rule the current flowed
lightly over a shingly bed, foaming round gigantic stones or bubbling
over the trunks of fallen trees. The distance to Leegarth, as the crow
flies, could not have been more than three miles; but the stream
twisted so oddly, and the difficulties of navigation were so great,
that Gerald sometimes doubted if he would reach his journey's end.
Several times he was forced to climb the steep banks and drag his
canoe through thickly growing saplings: but, on the whole, the tiny
shallop behaved with the dexterity of an eel in slipping through
dangerous places. Nevertheless his traveling was more like the
exploration of unknown lands than like a civilized river trip in
mapped-out England.
Late in the day--about six o'clock--and when the western sky was
beginning to glow with the hues of a soapbubble, the adventurer found
himself in a less toilsome position. After the choked stream, where
the trees met overhead, it was a relief to float into an immense pool,
fenced in by precipitous red cliffs draped with vividly green
vegetation. Gerald emerged into this haven with a feeling of
thankfulness, and laid down his paddle, both to rest his weary muscles
and to examine his romantic surroundings. The pool was nearly
circular, and, as the narrow Ruddle flowed in at one end, and out at
the other, the whole resembled a bead on a string. On the placid
waters, brimming like those of a mill-dam, the canoe floated idly
until it touched the left bank. Haskins therefore saw, on the right
hand, a tall cliff of ruddy earth, overgrown with bushes, and
surmounted by a fringe of trees. Between these, he espied a ruinous
gray stone wall, clothed thickly with ivy. As there were two or three
small windows in this wall, Gerald guessed that it formed the side of
a dwelling-place--and guessed moreover that from one of those same
windows the sealed message had been thrown into the pool. It was, of,
course, merely a surmise that the Pixy's House was built on the top of
this inland cliff, but, bearing in mind the cylinder with its attached
bladder, Haskins felt certain that he was correct. The imprisoned
Mavis Durham could only have launched her message from the cliff top.
Gerald had now practically arrived at his journey's end, as he had
discovered the palace of the Sleeping Beauty, shut in by Enchanted
Woods. He therefore paddled swiftly under the cliff itself, to see how
he could storm the castle. Tod would have called it a lunatic asylum,
in his coarse way, but Gerald the poet preferred the more romantic
appellation. Also, after hearing that wonderful voice, he made up his
rash mind that he would not believe in the alleged insanity of Mavis
Durham until he had seen her, and had spoken with her. If she were
really a homicidal maniac he could return with some regrets to the
workaday world; but if she was all that he hoped she would be,--well!
Gerald drew a long breath as he thought thus. If she were as beautiful
as her voice, as poetic as her message, he did not know what would
happen. Yet, as a young man, dizzy with the wine of life, he should
have known. But such things, for good or for evil, were yet on the
knees of the most high gods.
At the upper end of the pool the adventurer found a stone landing
stage, with an iron ring, to which he fastened the canoe. He leaped
lightly on to the rugged platform, and climbed up a rude stair, to
find himself facing an arched opening hewn in the face of the cliff.
It was masked, more or less, by neglected bushes, and evidently had
not been made use of many years. Still, it undoubtedly led upward to
the battlements of the Enchanted Castle. So Haskins pushed his way
through the trees, and clambered up a ruinous and twisting stair, in
complete darkness. Here, indeed, was an adventure not often to be met
with in this unromantic age, and the young man's body thrilled as he
experienced hitherto unknown emotions. He was Sir Galahad searching
for the Grail; Columbus staring at a newly discovered world; a
Calender from the Arabian Nights stumbling upon the magical Beauty of
the World, a jinn's daughter, lovely and unapproachable.
Up and up went the stair, twisting and turning like an eel, until
Haskins, losing count of time, thought that he was mounting to the
North Star. Finally the steps ceased to wind, and the explorer
clambered up a straight flight which terminated in a small opening,
out of which he emerged on to the top of the cliff, and immediately
below the ivy-draped wall. The house stood about twenty yards from the
verge of the cliff, and the space between was filled with long grass,
with stunted bushes, and with tolerably tall trees, all in full summer
foliage. On looking up Gerald saw pointed roofs of weatherworn red
tiles, twisted stacks of chimneys, and gray stone turrets, the whole
so overgrown with greenery that it looked as though the mansion were a
portion of the earth itself. There was no door in the wall visible. If
there had been one (as was probable to reach the landing stage) it had
been blocked up, or was hidden by the darkly green ivy.
"Faint heart never won fair lady," thought Gerald unoriginally, and
began to swarm up the natural ladder afforded by the tough roots of
the creeper. Out of breath he gained the top of the wall, and,
flinging his leg over, sat astride to view this Jack-and-the-Beanstalk
Country. Then he beheld--Charity Bird!