ON THE WAY
Oh, what is that country,
And where can it be?--ROSSETTI.
If Fraulein heard what Leonore said, she did not seem surprised, for
though she did not, of course, know about the little girl's curious
dream, she knew that Hildegarde's coming had been freely talked about
the evening before. But she _was_ very astonished a moment later when
Hildegarde, looking up quietly, said with a smile--
'I have come to meet you. I was sure I should.'
'My dear child!' exclaimed Fraulein. 'How could you know? The fairies
must have told you!'
The little stranger smiled again.
'This is Leonore,' she said, taking the other child's hand. 'Grandmamma
told me her name, but grandmamma did not know I should meet you'; and
she shook her head with a funny little air of mystery.
'It is wonderful,' said Fraulein; 'it is even wonderful that you should
know _me_ again. It is five years--_five years_--since you saw me
last--half your life.'
'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'but I can remember longer ago than that.'
She was still holding Leonore's hand, and though the little English girl
felt rather shy, and had not yet spoken to her new friend, yet she liked
the touch of the gentle fingers and pressed them in return, while she
looked at Hildegarde's pretty fair face in admiration.
'I am coming soon to see Aunt Anna,' Hildegarde went on. 'Will you give
her my love, Fraulein Elsa, and tell her so? May I come this afternoon?'
'Certainly, certainly,' said Fraulein; 'the sooner you and Leonore make
friends, the better pleased we shall all be.'
At this Leonore took courage.
'Yes,' she said, looking earnestly at Hildegarde with her serious dark
eyes. 'I want _very much_ to be friends.'
'It will not take long,' said Hildegarde, and then, for the first time,
Leonore noticed that the little girl's eyes were not like any she had
ever seen before. They were not blue, as one would have expected from
her light, almost flaxen hair and fair complexion, but a kind of bright
hazel-brown--with lovely flashes, almost, as it were, of sunshine,
coming and going.
'They are _golden_ eyes,' thought Leonore; and when she repeated this to
Fraulein afterwards, her governess agreed with her that she was right.
'I remember noticing their colour when she was a very tiny child,' said
Fraulein, thinking to herself that the two little girls made a pretty
contrast, for Leonore's hair was dark, as well as her eyes.
Hildegarde held up her face for Fraulein to kiss, and then she ran off
again, saying as she did so--
'Do not forget to tell Aunt Anna I am coming, and perhaps she will make
some of those dear little round cakes I love so--she knows which they
are. Leonore will like them too, I am sure.'
The day was getting on by this time; it was past noon.
'We will just stroll to the other end of the village,' said Fraulein;
'from there we shall have the side view of the Castle--there is a short
cut down to the street at that end, by some steps, but they are rough
and in need of repair, so we generally prefer the longer way. The old
Baron has spoken of shutting off the side entrance; he says it is only
fit for goats to scramble up.'
Leonore thought, though she did not say so, that it would be very
amusing for little girls all the same, and determined to ask Hildegarde
about it. She thought the Castle even more interesting seen sideways
than in front; it looked so very close to the thick dark trees behind,
almost as if it touched them.
'I shall have lots of things to talk to Hildegarde about,' she said to
herself. 'These woods are _very_ fairy-looking. And I think I must tell
her my strange dream about her and the nuts. I don't _think_ she would
laugh at it. I hope I have them quite safe.'
Yes, they lay snugly in her pocket, wrapped up in the piece of paper--a
nice piece of pink paper that she had found among her things.
'I will leave them where they are,' she thought, 'and then I shall be
sure to remember to tell Hildegarde my dream.'
It was nearly dinner-time when they got back to Aunt Anna's, for in that
part of the world big people as well as little dine in the middle of the
day. Aunt Anna was most interested in hearing of Hildegarde's arrival,
and quite as delighted as Fraulein had been.
'And was it not strange that she should have come to meet us?' said
Fraulein. 'She must have had a presentiment about it.'
'What is a presentiment?' asked Leonore.
'A sort of knowing beforehand about something that is going to happen,'
answered Fraulein. 'Many people have the feeling, but very often it does
not come true, and then it is not a real presentiment. It is not
everybody that has real presentiments.'
Aunt Anna smiled. Leonore was learning to love her smiles. They reminded
her of some other smile--whose was it? Hildegarde's?--yes, a little,
perhaps, but no, she had seen Hildegarde for the first time that
morning, and this feeling about Aunt Anna's smile had come to her
already yesterday. Whose smile could it be?
'Hildegarde is a dear child,' said Aunt Anna, 'and perhaps she is one of
the few who know more than the everyday people. And she was born at the
Castle and spent her babyhood there. How well I remember the day she was
christened!'
'Oh, do tell me,' exclaimed Leonore impulsively. 'Did they have a grand
feast, and did they invite any fairies? Perhaps she had a fairy
godmother.'
'Leonore!' said Fraulein, beginning to laugh. 'You are getting too
fanciful--you really----'
'Nay, Elsa,' interrupted Aunt Anna. 'Let the child say out what is in
her mind, and remember, we are here in our dear country, close on the
borders of Fairyland----'
'Yes, Fraulein,' Leonore interrupted in her turn. 'You said so
yourself.'
'And assuredly,' Aunt Anna went on, 'if Hildegarde has a fairy
godmother, she has given her none but good gifts.'
'You speak as if such things were possible, my dear aunt,' said
Fraulein. 'We must not let Leonore grow too fanciful. I shall have you
and her taking flight in an airy chariot drawn by white swans or
something of that kind some fine day, if I don't take care.'
'Well, you and Hildegarde can come after us in another chariot if we
do,' said Aunt Anna, laughing.
But Leonore remained serious.
'Please tell me, Aunt Anna,' she said, 'as you were at Hildegarde's
christening, was there any one there who _might_ have been a fairy?'
Aunt Anna hesitated.
'There was an odd story,' she replied, 'about a beautiful lady who was
met coming away from the nursery, when the baby had been left alone in
her cot for a moment or two. And when the nurse went back she found her
smiling and crowing and chuckling to herself as if she were six months
instead of only a few days old, and in her little hand she was tightly
clasping----'
'What?' asked Leonore breathlessly.
'Three nuts,' replied Aunt Anna impressively. 'Three common little brown
hazel-nuts. That part of the story is true, for Hildegarde has the nuts
to this day, I believe--at least she had them the last time she was
here.'
'She must have picked them up somehow,' said Fraulein.
Aunt Anna shook her head.
'A baby of a few days old cannot pick things up,' she said. 'No, it has
never been explained. None of the servants had put them into her
hand--indeed they would not have been so foolish, and they could
scarcely have had the chance of doing so. And it was said by the one or
two who declared they had met her, that the beautiful lady was carrying
a basket on her arm filled with common hazel-nuts, and some days
afterwards one of the foresters said that late that same evening a
little old woman whom he had never seen before stopped him up in the
high woods to ask the way to some strange place of which he had never
heard, and she--the little old woman--was carrying a basket of nuts. She
offered him some, but he thought she was a witch and would not have
any.'
'Dear me, Aunt Anna,' exclaimed her niece, 'I did not know all these
wonderful tales. Surely they grew out of finding the nuts in the baby's
hands. I do remember hearing _that_, though I had forgotten it.'
'Perhaps that was the origin of it all,' said her aunt quietly. 'Still,
Hildegarde is an uncommon child. It certainly seems as if she had
received some fairy gifts, however they came to her.'
Leonore did not speak, but she listened intently. She would probably
have not contented herself with listening but for knowing that she was
so soon to see Hildegarde herself again.
'_She_ will be the best person to ask,' thought Leonore. 'I will tell
her about _my_ nuts and the little old woman who gave me them, and about
the pretty laugh I heard in the wood, and then, I feel sure, she will
tell me all _she_ knows.'
She could scarcely finish her dinner, so eager and excited did she feel.
And she was more than delighted when, at the close of the meal, kind
Fraulein proposed to her that, as Hildegarde had come to meet _them_
that morning, Leonore should show her new little friend the same
attention.
'You can scarcely miss her,' she said. 'She is sure to come the same way
that I took you this morning. If you get ready now, and start in a
quarter of an hour or so, you will be about right, I should say. They
dine early at the Castle. But I should like you to change your dress in
case you should be presented to the Baroness--Hildegarde's grandmamma.'
Leonore ran off to get ready. She was not long about it, but all the
same her new little friend must have been even quicker, for Leonore met
her a very few steps only from Aunt Anna's gate. Hildegarde's face
lighted up with a smile when she caught sight of the other little girl.
'So you have come to meet me,' she said; 'that is very nice of you. I
hope I have not come too soon. Shall I go in now to see Aunt Anna?'
Leonore looked a little disappointed, which Hildegarde seemed at once to
understand.
'I don't mean to _stay_ with Aunt Anna,' she added quickly; 'what I want
is for you and me to go out somewhere together. It is a lovely day, and
I have leave to stay out till dusk. My grandmamma is going to pay some
visits, so she hopes to see you some other day--perhaps to-morrow. I
think we shall get to know each other far the best by being alone by
ourselves--don't you think so?'
'Yes, certainly,' said Leonore, her face clearing. 'I am so glad you
understand. I have such a lot of things to talk to you about.'
Hildegarde nodded her head. It was a little habit of hers to do so
without speaking sometimes.
'Then we must not lose any of our time,' she said, after a moment's
pause. 'But first I will run in to give Aunt Anna a kiss, and then we
can go off somewhere together.'
Aunt Anna's face was full of pleasure at the sight of her little
friend--the two were evidently old acquaintances.
'How well you are looking, my child,' she said, 'and how much you have
grown! Let me see, which is the taller, you or our little Leonore,' and
she drew the two children together. 'There is not a quarter of an inch
between you,' she exclaimed. 'If you were ponies you would be a perfect
match--one dark and one fair,' she added musingly. 'Yes, my dears, you
are evidently intended to be friends.'
'And that is just what we mean to be,' said Hildegarde. 'May we go now,
Aunt Anna? You will not be anxious even if Leonore does not come home
till dark?'
'Oh no,' said the old lady tranquilly, 'I know you are as safe as you
can be--you are going to the woods, I suppose?'
'I think so,' Hildegarde replied.
As soon as they found themselves out of doors again, she took Leonore's
hand.
'Let us run quickly through the village,' she said, 'and then when we
get inside the Castle grounds we can go slowly and talk as we go. Or
perhaps we can sit down--it is so mild, and there are lots of cosy
places among the trees.'
Leonore was quite pleased to do as Hildegarde proposed; indeed she had a
curious feeling that whatever her new little friend wished she would
like. She did not speak much, for it seemed to her as if she were meant
in the first place to listen.
The woods were very lovely that afternoon. Hildegarde led the way round
the Castle without approaching it quite closely, till they stood in a
little clearing, from which they looked upwards into the rows of
pine-trees, through which here and there the afternoon sunshine made
streaks of light and brightness.
'Isn't it pretty here?' said Hildegarde. 'Hush--there's a
squirrel--there are lots about here; they are so tame they like to be
near the house, I think. Shall we sit down? It is quite dry.'
Leonore was not troubled with any fears of catching cold--and indeed the
day was as mild as summer.
'Yes,' she said, 'it is a very pretty place. I have never seen such big
woods before.'
'They go on for miles and miles--up ever so far,' said Hildegarde,
'though here and there the ground is quite flat for a bit. And over
there,' she pointed to the left, 'they are not pine woods, but all sorts
of other trees. I don't know which I like best.'
'Pine woods _I_ should say,' Leonore replied. 'Perhaps because I have
never seen such beautiful high fir-trees before. And the way the sun
peeps through them is so pretty.'
As she spoke, half unconsciously her hand strayed to her jacket pocket.
There lay safely the little packet containing the three nuts.
'Hildegarde,' she said, 'I heard the story about you when you were a
baby, and what they found in your hand. And--it is very odd--do you
know--no, of course you couldn't--but just fancy, _I_ have three nuts
too!'
Hildegarde nodded her head.
'I _did_ know,' she said, smiling. 'And--look here.'
From the front of her frock she drew out a little green silk bag drawn
in at the top with tiny white ribbon. She opened it carefully, and took
out something which she held towards Leonore--on her pretty pink palm
lay three nuts, common little brown nuts, just like Leonore's. And
Leonore unwrapped her own packet and in the same way held out its
contents.
'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'it is all right. I knew you had them.'
Leonore stared at her in astonishment.
'How could you know?' she exclaimed.
'I suppose people would say I dreamt it,' Hildegarde replied, 'but I
don't call it dreaming. I have always known things like that since I was
a baby. And I knew that some day I should have a friend like you, and
that together we should have lovely adventures, and now it is going to
come true.'
Leonore grew rosy red with excitement.
'Do you mean,' she began, 'Hildegarde, _can_ you mean that perhaps we
are going to find the way to Fairyland? _I_ have been thinking about it
ever since I can remember anything.'
Hildegarde nodded.
'Yes,' she said, 'I am sure you have. But I don't quite know about
Fairyland itself. I am not sure if any one ever gets _quite_ there--into
the very insidest part, you know. I almost think we should have to be
turned into fairies for that, and then we never could be little girls
again, you see. But I am sure we are going to see some wonderful
things--there are the outside parts of Fairyland, you know.'
'Fraulein says all this country is on the borders of Fairyland,' said
Leonore.
'Well, so it is, I daresay, for fairies _do_ come about here sometimes.
You've heard the story of the one that came to my christening feast?'
'Yes,' said Leonore, 'and I am beginning to think that I have seen her
too,' and she went on to tell Hildegarde about the little old dame in
the market-place at Alt who had given her the nuts, and about the
mischievous laugh she had heard in the wood on the way to Dorf, and all
her own thoughts and fancies, including her dream of Hildegarde herself.
Hildegarde listened attentively.
'I feel sure you are right,' she said, 'and that the dame _was_ my own
fairy, as I call her. And I believe the laugh you heard in the wood was
when you were hoping you hadn't lost the last three nuts. I don't
believe you could have lost them; if you had thrown them away they would
have come back to you. Just think how my three have always been kept
safe, even though I was only a tiny baby when they were put into my
hand.'
Both little girls sat silent for a moment or two, gazing at the six
brown nuts.
'And what do you think we are meant to do now?' asked Leonore at last.
'To do,' repeated Hildegarde in some surprise; 'why, of course it's
quite plain--to crack the nuts! Not all of them at once--one, or perhaps
two--one of yours and one of mine, I daresay.'
'Oh,' exclaimed Leonore, 'do you really think we should? _How_ I wonder
what we shall find! Just supposing there is nothing but a kernel
inside.'
'There's no good in supposing it,' said Hildegarde; 'we shall soon see.
As I have had the nuts the longest perhaps it's meant for me to crack
one first--so----'
She put the nut between her teeth. Of course if it _had_ been a common
nut this would not have been a sensible thing to do, as she would
probably have broken her teeth and not cracked the nut, but Hildegarde
knew what she was about. The nut gave way with a touch, and in another
moment the little girl had broken off enough of the shell to see what
was inside, Leonore bending over her in breathless eagerness.