A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.
One night Rosebud was awakened in the middle of the night by the moon
shining full in her face; and, while lying there awake, she heard a
noise of some one moving in the next room. Presently the outer door
shut, and the footsteps were heard outside.
[Illustration]
Rosebud sprang to her little window, and saw the old woman hobbling
away quite fast, and carrying a lighted lantern.
Now Rosebud had, besides a whole heart full of love, two other things
very good in their place, namely, great curiosity and great courage.
The first of these caused her to wonder why granny should carry a
lighted lantern on such a bright night, and the second to follow and
find out for herself.
Throwing an old cloak about her, she hastened out, and caught sight of
the old woman disappearing over the brow of a hill. Running quite fast,
she gained the top, and saw granny with her cane fast crossing the
meadow beyond.
After the meadow came another hill, then a hollow, then still another
hill very steep, and then a wide strip of barren land called “The
Plains.” Beyond this was the Enchanted Wood. And it was towards this
Wood that the old woman directed her steps,--Rosebud following not far
behind, her little bare feet never heeding the stones.
But very suddenly granny disappeared. It seemed to Rosebud that the old
woman must have sunk into the earth. She came to the very spot where
the flutter of her blue blanket had a moment before been seen, but
could find no trace of her. It was very near the edge of the wood. But
granny could not have entered, for just there the thicket was thorny
and tangled, and not even the crack of a twig or the rustle of a leaf
had Rosebud heard.
“I am very far from home,” thought the little girl, looking round, “and
in the middle of the night too. But is not the moonlight as safe as
the sunlight? It is surely much prettier.”
Everything was quiet. The trees seemed holding their branches still
for the moon to shine upon them. How they glistened in its rays! only
stirring a very little now and then, with a rustle, whispering softly,
just to tell what pretty things some passing zephyr had said to them.
But it suddenly occurred to Rosebud that granny might reach home by
some other way, and find her room empty. “I will go now,” she thought,
“and return in the morning.”
At the hut all was just as she had left it. She crept softly into
bed, and resolved to lie awake until granny’s return, but long before
daylight was sound asleep.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, and the old woman had
taken her staff, pinned on her blue blanket, and hobbled off, Rosebud,
without telling Bess or Judy, or even Myrtle,--lest he persuade her to
remain at home,--hastened away over hills and plains, until she came to
the edge of the Enchanted Wood, where on the night before granny had so
suddenly vanished.
While looking about in search of some hidden cavern or grotto, she saw
lovely flowers growing among the bushes. These were charming, and would
make fine nosegays or most lovely garlands.
She entered the Wood and rambled on and on, taking any path which
offered, and while plucking the lovely flowers, and also the purple
berries, forgot that the hours were flying so swiftly; and when at last
she became weary, and would have returned, there appeared no way of
getting from the Wood. Many paths were tried, but all in vain; and at
length, overcome with fatigue, she sank down upon a mossy bank to rest.
But she was hardly seated before she heard, not far off, a voice
singing. It was a young girl’s voice, very sweet, but full of sadness.
“Alone, alone!
Alas, my true love has gone!
To the wars he is marching on,
And I am alone!”
Looking in the direction of the voice, Rosebud saw, a few yards from
her, what seemed to be a pile of rocks surrounded by trees. She stepped
softly that way. When quite near, some one spoke--some young girl--in
gentle tones, and said, “What do you seek, little one?”
“Only to know who sang so sweetly,” replied Rosebud, faintly.
“And if you knew,” said the voice, “would you, if you could, do the
singer a service?”
“O yes,” cried Rosebud, “and with all my heart. But I am only a little
girl,--only Rosebud, that lives in a little hut upon the sands, with
Bess, and Judy, and Myrtle, and our poor lame granny.”
“Does your granny wear a blue blanket?” asked the voice; “and is she a
little deaf? and does she mutter to herself, and carry a staff?”
“How did you know all that?” asked Rosebud.
“Your granny is the keeper of my cage,” replied the voice. “She comes
by night to bring food for me and my little maid. Come near, Rosebud;
you need not be afraid. I am only a young maiden, not so very much
bigger than yourself. My uncle is lord of the land here, but not so
powerful as my father, my brave father, who has now gone to the wars;
for he is king, and rules over the whole country. O, he was loving
and kind, and gave to me jewels and fine clothes in plenty! But, ah!
he will not let me have my true love till one, two, three years have
passed over my head. Yet I can tell you that I am already very old.
“And, Rosebud, before going to the wars he sent me to visit my uncle,
that I might forget my true love. And my uncle is a wicked, cruel man,
and a tyrant over me; but I am proud and defy him. He persuades my
father, in his letters, that I am bad, and will be glad to make him
believe this of me. Were I to die, would he grieve for it? Not at all;
for then he would inherit the kingdom. I sought to escape, and that
is why I am here, although he says it is that I may forget. Is this a
place to forget? O no. For what says the song?
‘When the wind goes sobbing by,
I think my love doth sigh,
Doth sigh for me.
‘When the sun is brightly gleaming,
Then I sit, dreaming, dreaming
He smiles on me.
‘When the rain-drops tear by tear
Do fall, I think my dear
Doth weep for me.
‘When the sea so sadly moans,
I think in mournful tones
He calls for me.’
“But I will escape from here,” she said, suddenly ceasing her song. “I
will flee to my native home; for there are those who will be my guides
when once at liberty. And you will do me a service, Rosebud, as you
promised?”
“O yes, indeed!” cried Rosebud; “but how? Where is the door? Where is
your little maid? What is your name?”
“My name is Bertha. My little maid is asleep. There is no door,--at
least not here. At the edge of the Wood is a mossy gray rock. Behind
this rock is a flat stone. Beneath that stone commences the long
underground passage which will lead you here. But have you courage?”
“O yes!” cried Rosebud, with eagerness; “I will come instantly!”
“That,” said Bertha, “you cannot do. Listen now, while I give you
instructions. Do you fear the night?”
“No, pretty Bertha,” said Rosebud. “For me the night is often more
beautiful than the day. I walked behind my granny, last night, a long
way in the moonlight, and was not afraid.”
And Rosebud then related to Bertha what had happened, and how she had
followed the old woman.
“Ah, I see that you have courage!” said Bertha; “you will not fail me.
But why do you say ‘pretty Bertha’? I can see you, little Rosebud, for
there are holes pierced in the rock to let in the light of day, and
through one of these I see your face, and a charming face it is; but I
am hid from you.”
“But your voice is pretty,” said Rosebud.
“Do you think that?” asked Bertha; “listen, then, to it, while it
instructs you what to do.
“Follow the old woman when she comes at night to the Wood. Watch when
she lifts the stone, then follow her through the entrance. Mind the
stairs. Ten steep stairs. A false step there would throw you down
and spoil everything. Once at the bottom, keep close behind your old
granny,--it is well for us she is a little deaf,--until she stops at an
iron door. Then look narrowly to see from whence she takes the heavy
brass key. No more can be done then. Make your way home as quickly as
you may, lest she turn and discover you. Does little Rosebud understand
thus far?”
“Yes,” said Rosebud, “I am to learn where the great brass key is kept.”
“Exactly,” said Bertha. “Now listen again. When next the old woman goes
to the town, you must hasten to the Wood, remove the flat stone, and
enter the passage, find your way through, unlock the iron door,--you
will know where the key is kept,--then keep on still farther until you
come to a second iron door, then call, ‘Bertha!’ and I will answer.
Then, Rosebud, I and my little maid will be free, and shall fly far
from here!”
“But where?” asked Rosebud. “Will you not be discovered? and will not
your bad uncle punish you?”
“Never fear that!” cried Bertha. “Are there no boats? We can manage an
oar.
‘Softly, softly dips the oar,
Farther, farther from the shore
We go, we go, we cheerily go!
O the sea, the rippling sea!
The bright, the glancing waves for me!
Go build me a boat
All lightly to float,
And away o’er the waters so free
We’ll row, we’ll row, we’ll cheerily row!’
“Yes, little Rosebud, a boat! Are there no boats upon the shore?”
“Many boats,” said Rosebud. “O, very many boats!”
“All will then be well,” said Bertha. “My father taught me to row, and
to ride, and to hunt, and to aim the bow. We shall reach our native
home, for with gold can be bought a trusty guide. All will go well.
And now, sweet Rosebud, farewell. Be cautious, but at the same time be
brave. Tell no one what has happened to-day. Adieu!”
Rosebud promised most faithfully, then bade adieu to Bertha, and ran
hastily along the first path which offered; but soon found herself
again bewildered among thickets of tangled vines and thorny bushes,
through which no way seemed to open.
Still it was a pleasant spot. Flowering shrubs were growing there, and
berries in plenty. A little brook fell over some rocks near by, and
Rosebud stooped to drink of its waters. Squirrels ran nimbly up the
trees, peeping out with their bright eyes from among the leaves. While
watching these, as they hopped so nimbly from bough to bough, she
perceived, sitting upon the lower branch of a tree, a fine-feathered
bird, seemingly so tame that she stepped nearer to examine its bright
wings. But on her approach it flew slowly to the next tree; and then,
as Rosebud followed, it again flew, and alighted on a tall bush, a
little farther on.
[Illustration]
“Bird, I must have you!” cried Rosebud; “and Myrtle must make for you a
cage, a painted cage! O you pretty bird! You fine-feathered bird! Ah,
you stop! You are not afraid! Come, now!” And she reached forward,
hand extended, to grasp it.
But the bird still flew a little farther, and a little farther, now in
this direction, now in that, and she was upon the point of giving it up
altogether, when it began to sing so charmingly!
“O, now I cannot leave you!” she cried. And so kept on and on, until
she felt at last that the power of turning away from it was gone, and
that, wherever the bird led, there must she follow.
A long while he flew, and most charmingly he sang the while. But
Rosebud grew very weary, and was about to sink down upon the grass in
despair of ever again finding her way home, when, looking around her,
she found herself quite near the spot where she had entered the Wood in
the morning.
“And now, fair bird, won’t you go home with me?” she cried; but the
fine-feathered bird had flown.
Rosebud then searched out the mossy gray rock and the flat stone, which
she found herself quite able to move.
But it was now long past noon.
“I must wait no longer,” she said, “for Bess and Judy and Myrtle will
be wondering what has befallen me.”
Arrived home, she was greeted with joy by Myrtle, and with endless
questions from all. To which her only answer was, that she had found
berries in plenty, also lovely flowers, and had seen a fine-feathered
bird which sang sweetly.