Chapter V.

The light princess.

Five o'clock, anxiously expected by me, came, and with it the

announcement of dinner. I think those of us who were in the secret

would have hurried over it, but with Beeves hanging upon our wheels,

we could not. However, at length we were all in the drawing-room, the

ladies of the house evidently surprised that we had come up stairs so

soon. Besides the curate, with his wife and brother, our party

comprised our old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield, whose previous

engagement had been advanced by a few days.

When we were all seated, I began, as if it were quite a private

suggestion of my own:

"Adela, if you and our friends have no objection, I will read you a

story I have just scribbled off."

"I shall be delighted, uncle."

This was a stronger expression of content than I had yet heard her

use, and I felt flattered accordingly.

"This is Christmas-time, you know, and that is just the time for

story-telling," I added.

"I trust it is a story suitable to the season," said Mrs. Cathcart,

smiling.

"Yes, very," I said; "for it is a child's story--a fairy tale, namely;

though I confess I think it fitter for grown than for young children.

I hope it is funny, though. I think it is."

"So you approve of fairy-tales for children, Mr. Smith?"

"Not for children alone, madam; for everybody that can relish them."

"But not at a sacred time like this?"

And again she smiled an insinuating smile.

"If I thought God did not approve of fairy-tales, I would never read,

not to say write one, Sunday or Saturday. Would you, madam?"

"I never do."

"I feared not. But I must begin, notwithstanding."

The story, as I now give it, is not exactly as I read it then,

because, of course, I was more anxious that it should be correct when

I prepared it for the press, than when I merely read it before a few

friends.

"Once upon a time," I began; but I was unexpectedly interrupted by the

clergyman, who said, addressing our host:

"Will you allow me, Colonel Cathcart, to be Master of the Ceremonies

for the evening?"

"Certainly, Mr. Armstrong."

"Then I will alter the arrangement of the party. Here, Henry--don't

get up, Miss Cathcart--we'll just lift Miss Cathcart's couch to this

corner by the fire.--Lie still, please. Now, Mr. Smith, you sit here

in the middle. Now, Mrs. Cathcart, here is an easy chair for you. With

my commanding officer I will not interfere. But having such a jolly

fire it was a pity not to get the good of it. Mr. Bloomfield, here is

room for you and Mrs. Bloomfield."

"Excellently arranged," said our host. "I will sit by you, Mr.

Armstrong. Percy, won't you come and join the circle?"

"No, thank you, uncle," answered Percy from a couch, "I am more

comfortable here."

"Now, Lizzie," said the curate to his wife, "you sit on this stool by

me.--Too near the fire? No?--Very well.--Harry, put the bottle of

water near Mr. Smith. A fellow-feeling for another fellow--you see,

Mr. Smith. Now we're all right, I think; that is, if Mrs. Cathcart is

comfortable."

"Thanks. Quite."

"Then we may begin. Now, Mr. Smith.--One word more: anybody may speak

that likes. Now, then."

So I did begin--

"Title: THE LIGHT PRINCESS.

"Second Title: A FAIRY-TALE WITHOUT FAIRIES."

"Author: JOHN SMITH, Gentleman.

"Motto:--'_Your Servant, Goody Gravity_.'

"From--SIR CHARLES GRANDISON."

"I must be very stupid, I fear, Mr. Smith; but to tell the truth, _I_

can't make head or tail of it," said Mrs. Cathcart.

"Give me leave, madam," said I; "that is my office. Allow me, and I

hope to make both head and tail of it for you. But let me give you

first a mere general, and indeed a more applicable motto for my

story. It is this--from no worse authority than John Milton:

'Great bards beside

In sage and solemn times have sung

Of turneys and of trophies hung;

Of forests and enchantments drear,

Where more is meant than meets the ear.'

"Milton here refers to Spencer in particular, most likely. But what

distinguishes the true bard in such work is, that _more is meant than

meets the ear_; and although I am no bard, I should scorn to write

anything that only spoke to the _ear_, which signifies the surface

understanding."

General silence followed, and I went on.

"THE LIGHT PRINCESS.

"CHAPTER I.--WHAT! NO CHILDREN?

"Once upon a time, so long ago, that I have quite forgotten the date,

there lived a king and queen who had no children.

"And the king said to himself: 'All the queens of my acquaintance have

children, some three, some seven, an some as many as twelve; and my

queen has not one. I feel ill-used.' So he made up his mind to be

cross with his wife about it. But she bore it all like a good patient

queen as she was. Then the king grew very cross indeed. But the queen

pretended to take it all as a joke, and a very good one, too.

"'Why don't you have any daughters, at least?' said he, 'I don't say

sons; that might be too much to expect.'

"'I am sure, dear king, I am very sorry,' said the queen.

"'So you ought to be,' retorted the king; 'you are not going to make a

virtue of _that_, surely.'

"But he was not an ill-tempered king; and, in any matter of less

moment, he would have let the queen have her own way, with all his

heart. This, however, was an affair of state.

"The queen smiled.

"'You must have patience with a lady, you know, dear king,' said she.

"She was, indeed, a very nice queen, and heartily sorry that she could

not oblige the king immediately.

"The king tried to have patience, but he succeeded very badly. It was

more than he deserved, therefore, when, at last, the queen gave him a

daughter--as lovely a little princess as ever cried."

* * * * *

"CHAPTER II.--WON'T I, JUST?

"The day drew near when the infant must be christened. The king wrote

all the invitations with his own hand. Of course somebody was

forgotten.

"Now, it does not generally matter if somebody is forgotten, but you

must mind who. Unfortunately, the king forgot without intending it;

and the chance fell upon the Princess Makemnoit, which was awkward.

For the Princess was the king's own sister; and he ought not to have

forgotten her. But she had made herself so disagreeable to the old

king, their father, that he had forgot her in making his will; and so

it was no wonder that her brother forgot her in writing his

invitations. But poor relations don't do anything to keep you in mind

of them. Why don't they? The king could not see into the garret she

lived in, could he? She was a sour, spiteful creature. The wrinkles of

contempt crossed the wrinkles of peevishness, and made her face as

full of wrinkles as a pat of butter. If ever a king could be justified

in forgetting anybody, this king was justified in forgetting his

sister, even at a christening. And then she was so disgracefully poor!

She looked very odd, too. Her forehead was as large as all the rest of

her face, and projected over it like a precipice. When she was angry,

her little eyes flashed blue. When she hated anybody, they shone

yellow and green. What they looked like when she loved anybody, I do

not know; for I never heard of her loving anybody but herself, and I

do not think she could have managed that, if she had not somehow got

used to herself. But what made it highly imprudent in the king to

forget her, was--that she was awfully clever. In fact, she was a

witch; and when she bewitched anybody, he very soon had enough of it;

for she beat all the wicked fairies in wickedness, and all the clever

ones in cleverness. She despised all the modes we read of in history,

in which offended fairies and witches have taken their revenges; and

therefore, after waiting and waiting in vain for an invitation, she

made up her mind at last to go without one, and make the whole family

miserable, like a princess and a philosopher.

"She put on her best gown, went to the palace, was kindly received by

the happy monarch, who forgot that he had forgotten her, and took her

place in the procession to the royal chapel. When they were all

gathered about the font, she contrived to get next to it, and throw

something into the water. She maintained then a very respectful

demeanour till the water was applied to the child's face. But at that

moment she turned round in her place three times, and muttered the

following words, loud enough for those beside her to hear:

'Light of spirit, by my charms,

Light of body, every part,

Never weary human arms--

Only crush thy parents' heart!'

"They all thought she had lost her wits, and was repeating some

foolish nursery rhyme; but a shudder went through the whole of them.

The baby, on the contrary, began to laugh and crow; while the nurse

gave a start and a smothered cry, for she thought she was struck with

paralysis: she could not feel the baby in her arms. But she clasped it

tight, and said nothing.

"The mischief was done."

Here I came to a pause, for I found the reading somewhat nervous work,

and had to make application to the water-bottle.

"Bravo! Mr. Smith," cried the clergyman. "A good beginning, I am sure;

for I cannot see what you are driving at."

"I think I do," said Henry. "Don't you, Lizzie?"

"No, I don't," answered Mrs. Armstrong.

"One thing," said Mrs. Cathcart with a smile, not a very sweet one,

but still a smile, "one thing, I must object to. That is, introducing

church ceremonies into a fairy-tale."

"Why, Mrs. Cathcart," answered the clergyman, taking up the cudgels

for me, "do you suppose the church to be such a cross-grained old

lady, that she will not allow her children to take a few gentle

liberties with their mother? She's able to stand that surely. They

won't love her the less for that."

"Besides," I ventured to say, "if both church and fairy-tale belong to

humanity, they may occasionally cross circles, without injury to

either. They must have something in common. There is the _Fairy

Queen_, and the _Pilgrim's Progress_, you know, Mrs. Cathcart. I can

fancy the pope even telling his nephews a fairy-tale."

"Ah, the pope! I daresay."

"And not the archbishop?"

"I don't think your reasoning quite correct, Mr. Smith," said the

clergyman; "and I think moreover there is a real objection to that

scene. It is, that no such charm could have had any effect where holy

water was employed as the medium. In fact I doubt if the wickedness

could have been wrought in a chapel at all."

"I submit," I said. "You are right. I hold up the four paws of my

mind, and crave indulgence."

"In the name of the church, having vindicated her power over evil

incantations, I permit you to proceed," said Mr. Armstrong, his black

eyes twinkling with fun.

Mrs. Cathcart smiled, and shook her head.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER III.--SHE CAN'T BE OURS.

"Her atrocious aunt had deprived the child of all her gravity. If you

ask me how this was effected, I answer: In the easiest way in the

world. She had only to destroy gravitation. And the princess was a

philosopher, and knew all the _ins_ and _outs_ of the laws of

gravitation as well as the _ins_ and _outs_ of her boot-lace. And

being a witch as well, she could abrogate those laws in a moment; or

at least so clog their wheels and rust their bearings, that they would

not work at all. But we have more to do with what followed, than with

how it was done.

"The first awkwardness that resulted from this unhappy privation was,

that the moment the nurse began to float the baby up and down, she

flew from her arms towards the ceiling. Happily, the resistance of the

air brought her ascending career to a close within a foot of it. There

she remained, horizontal as when she left her nurse's arms, kicking

and laughing amazingly. The nurse in terror flew to the bell, and

begged the footman who answered it, to bring up the house-steps

directly. Trembling in every limb, she climbed upon the steps, and had

to stand upon the very top, and reach up, before she could catch the

floating tail of the baby's long clothes.

"When the strange fact came to be known, there was a terrible

commotion in the palace. The occasion of its discovery by the king was

naturally a repetition of the nurse's experience. Astonished that he

felt no weight when the child was laid in his arms, he began to wave

her up and--not down; for she slowly ascended to the ceiling as

before, and there remained floating in perfect comfort and

satisfaction, as was testified by her peals of tiny laughter. The king

stood staring up in speechless amazement, and trembled so that his

beard shook like grass in the wind. At last, turning to the queen, who

was just as horror-struck as himself, he said, gasping, staring, and

stammering:

"'She _can't_ be ours, queen!'

"Now the queen was much cleverer than the king, and had begun already

to suspect that 'this effect defective came by cause.'

"'I am sure she is ours,' answered she. 'But we ought to have taken

better care of her at the christening. People who were never invited

ought not to have been present.'

"'Oh, ho!' said the king, tapping his forehead with his forefinger, 'I

have it all. I've found her out. Don't you see it, queen? Princess

Makemnoit has bewitched her.'

"'That's just what I say,' answered the queen.

"'I beg your pardon, my love; I did not hear you. John! bring the

steps I get on my throne with.'

"For he was a little king with a great throne, like many other kings.

"The throne-steps were brought, and set upon the dining-table, and

John got upon the top of them. But he could not reach the little

princess, who lay like a baby-laughter-cloud in the air, exploding

continuously.

"'Take the tongs, John,' said his majesty; and getting up on the

table, he handed them to him.

"John could reach the baby now, and the little princess was handed

down by the tongs.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER IV.--WHERE IS SHE?

"One fine summer day, a month after these her first adventures, during

which time she had been very carefully watched, the princess was lying

on the bed in the queen's own chamber, fast asleep. One of the windows

was open, for it was noon, and the day so sultry that the little girl

was wrapped in nothing less etherial than slumber itself. The queen

came into the room, and not observing that the baby was on the bed,

opened another window. A frolicsome fairy wind which had been watching

for a chance of mischief, rushed in at the one window, and taking its

way over the bed where the child was lying, caught her up, and rolling

and floating her along like a piece of flue, or a dandelion-seed,

carried her with it through the opposite window, and away. The queen

went down stairs, quite ignorant of the loss she had herself

occasioned. When the nurse returned, she supposed that her majesty

had carried her off, and, dreading a scolding, delayed making inquiry

about her. But hearing nothing, she grew uneasy, and went at length to

the queen's boudoir, where she found her majesty.

"'Please your majesty, shall I take the baby?' said she.

"'Where is she?' asked the queen.

"'Please forgive me. I know it was wrong.'

"'What do you mean?' said the queen, looking grave.

"'Oh! don't frighten me, your majesty!' exclaimed the nurse, clapping

her hands.

"The queen saw that something was amiss, and fell down in a faint. The

nurse rushed about the palace, screaming, 'My baby! my baby!'

"Every one ran to the queen's room. But the queen could give no

orders. They soon found out, however, that the princess was missing,

and in a moment the palace was like a bee-hive in a garden. But in a

minute more the queen was brought to herself by a great shout and a

clapping of hands. They had found the princess fast asleep under a

rose-bush, to which the elvish little wind-puff had carried her,

finishing its mischief by shaking a shower of red rose-leaves all over

the little white sleeper. Startled by the noise the servants made, she

woke; and furious with glee, scattered the rose-leaves in all

directions, like a shower of spray in the sunset.

"She was watched more carefully after this, no doubt; yet it would be

endless to relate all the odd incidents resulting from this

peculiarity of the young princess. But there never was a baby in a

house, not to say a palace, that kept a household in such constant

good humour, at least below stairs. If it was not easy for her nurses

to hold her, certainly she did not make their arms ache. And she was

so nice to play at ball with! There was positively no danger of

letting her fall. You might throw her down, or knock her down, or push

her down, but you couldn't _let_ her down. It is true, you might let

her fly into the fire or the coal-hole, or through the window; but

none of these accidents had happened as yet. If you heard peals of

laughter resounding from some unknown region, you might be sure enough

of the cause. Going down into the kitchen, or _the room_, you would

find Jane and Thomas, and Robert and Susan, all and sum, playing at

ball with the little princess. She was the ball herself, and did not

enjoy it the less for that. Away she went, flying from one to another,

screeching with laughter. And the servants loved the ball itself

better even than the game. But they had to take care how they threw

her, for if she received an upward direction, she would never come

down without being fetched.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER V.--WHAT IS TO BE DONE?

"But above stairs it was different. One day, for instance, after

breakfast, the king went into his counting-house, and counted out his

money. The operation gave him no pleasure.

"'To think,' said he to himself, 'that every one of these gold

sovereigns weighs a quarter of an ounce, and my real, live,

flesh-and-blood princess weighs nothing at all!'

"And he hated his gold sovereigns, as they lay with a broad smile of

self-satisfaction all over their yellow faces.

"The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey. But at the

second mouthful, she burst out crying, and could not swallow it. The

king heard her sobbing. Glad of anybody, but especially of his queen,

to quarrel with, he clashed his gold sovereigns into his money-box,

clapped his crown on his head, and rushed into the parlour.

"'What is all this about?' exclaimed he. 'What are you crying for,

queen?'

"'I can't eat it,' said the queen, looking ruefully at the honey-pot.

"'No wonder!' retorted the king. 'You've just eaten your

breakfast--two turkey eggs, and three anchovies.'

"'Oh! that's not it!' sobbed her majesty. 'It's my child, my child!'

"'Well, what's the matter with your child? She's neither up the

chimney nor down the draw-well. Just hear her laughing.' Yet the king

could not help a sigh, which he tried to turn into a cough, saying,

"'It is a good thing to be light-hearted, I am sure, whether she be

ours or not.'

"'It is a bad thing to be light-headed,' answered the queen, looking

with prophetic soul, far into the future.

"''Tis a good thing to be light-handed,' said the king.

"''Tis a bad thing to be light-fingered,' answered the queen.

"''Tis a good thing to be light-footed,' said the king.

"''Tis a bad thing,' began the queen; but the king interrupted her.

"'In fact,' said he, with the tone of one who concludes an argument in

which he has had only imaginary opponents, and in which, therefore, he

has come off triumphant--'in fact, it is a good thing altogether to be

light-bodied.'

"'But it is a bad thing altogether to be light-minded,' retorted the

queen, who was beginning to lose her temper.

"This last answer quite discomfited his majesty, who turned on his

heel, and betook himself to his counting-house again. But he was not

halfway towards it, when the voice of his queen overtook him:

"'And it's a bad thing to be light-haired,' screamed she, determined

to have more last words, now that her spirit was roused.

"The queen's hair was black as night; and the king's had been, and his

daughter's was, golden as morning. But it was not this reflection on

his hair that troubled him; it was the double use of the word _light_.

For the king hated all witticisms, and punning especially. And

besides he could not tell whether the queen meant light-_haired_ or

light-_heired_; for why might she not aspirate her vowels when she was

ex-asperated herself?"

"Now, really," interrupted the clergyman, "I must protest. Mr. Smith,

you bury us under an avalanche of puns, and, I must say, not very good

ones. Now, the story, though humorous, is not of the kind to admit of

such fanciful embellishment. It reminds one rather of a burlesque at a

theatre--the lowest thing, from a literary point of view, to be

found."

"I submit," was all I could answer; for I feared that he was right.

The passage, as it now stands, is not nearly so bad as it was then,

though, I confess, it is still bad enough.

"I think," said Mrs. Armstrong, "since criticism is the order of the

evening, and Mr. Smith is so kind as not to mind it, that he makes the

king and queen too silly. It takes away from the reality."

"Right too, my dear madam," I answered.

"The reality of a fairy-tale?" said Mrs. Cathcart, as if asking a

question of herself.

"But will you grant me the justice," said I, "to temper your judgments

of me, if not of my story, by remembering that this is the first thing

of the sort I ever attempted?"

"I tell you what," said the doctor, "it's very easy to criticise, but

none of you could have written it yourselves."

"Of course not, for my part," said the clergyman.

Silence followed; and I resumed.

"He turned upon his other heel, and rejoined her. She looked angry

still, because she knew that she was guilty, or, what was much the

same, knew that he thought so.

"'My dear queen,' said he, 'duplicity of any sort is exceedingly

objectionable between married people, of any rank, not to say kings

and queens; and the most objectionable form it can assume is that of

punning.'

"'There!' said the queen, 'I never made a jest, but I broke it in the

making. I am the most unfortunate woman in the world!'

"She looked so rueful, that the king took her in his arms; and they

sat down to consult.

"'Can you bear this?' said the king.

"'No, I can't,' said the queen.

"'Well, what's to be done?' said the king.

"'I'm sure I don't know,' said the queen. 'But might you not try an

apology?'

"'To my old sister, I suppose you mean?' said the king.

"'Yes,' said the queen.

"'Well, I don't mind,' said the king.

"So he went the next morning to the garret of the princess, and,

making a very humble apology, begged her to undo the spell. But the

princess declared, with a very grave face, that she knew nothing at

all about it. Her eyes, however, shone pink, which was a sign that she

was happy. She advised the king and queen to have patience, and to

mend their ways. The king returned disconsolate.

The queen tried to comfort him.

"'We will wait till she is older. She may then be able to suggest

something herself. She will know at least how she feels, and explain

things to us.'

"'But what if she should marry!' exclaimed the king, in sudden

consternation at the idea.

"'Well, what of that?' rejoined the queen.

"'Just think! If she were to have any children! In the course of a

hundred years, the air might be as full of floating children as of

gossamers in autumn.'

"'That is no business of ours,' replied the queen. 'Besides, by that

time, they will have learned to take care of themselves.'

"A sigh was the king's only answer.

"He would have consulted the court physicians; but he was afraid they

would try experiments upon her.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER VI--SHE LAUGHS TOO MUCH.

"Meantime, notwithstanding awkward occurrences, and griefs that she

brought her parents to, the little princess laughed and grew--not fat,

but plump and tall. She reached the age of seventeen, without having

fallen into, any worse scrape than a chimney; by rescuing her from

which, a little bird-nesting urchin got fame and a black face. Nor,

thoughtless as she was, had she committed anything worse than laughter

at everybody and everything, that came in her way. When she heard that

General Clanrunfort was cut to pieces with all his forces, she

laughed; when she heard that the enemy was on his way to besiege her

papa's capital, she laughed hugely; but when she heard that the city

would most likely be abandoned to the mercy of the enemy's

soldiery--why, then, she laughed immoderately. These were merely

reports invented for the sake of experiment. But she never could be

brought to see the serious side of anything. When her mother cried,

she said:

"'What queer faces mamma makes! And she squeezes water out of her

cheeks! Funny mama!'

"And when her papa stormed at her, she laughed, and danced round and

round him, clapping her hands, and crying:

"'Do it again, papa. Do it again! It's such fun! Dear, funny papa!'

"And if he tried to catch her, she glided from him in an instant, not

in the least afraid of him, but thinking, it part of the game not to

be caught. With one push of her foot, she would be floating in the air

above his head; or she would go dancing backwards and forwards and

sideways, like a great butterfly. It happened several times, when her

father and mother were holding a consultation about her in private,

that they were interrupted by vainly repressed outbursts of laughter

over their heads; and looking up with indignation, saw her floating at

full length in the air above them, whence she regarded them with the

most comical appreciation of the position.

"One day an awkward accident happened. The princess had come out upon

the lawn with one of her attendants, who held her by the hand. Spying

her father at the other side of the lawn, she snatched her hand from

the maid's, and sped across to him. Now, when she wanted to run alone,

her custom was to catch up a stone in each hand, so that she might

come down again after a bound. Whatever she wore as part of her attire

had no effect in this way: even gold, when it thus became as it were a

part of herself, lost all its weight for the time. But whatever she

only held in her hands, retained its downward tendency. On this

occasion she could see nothing to catch up, but a huge toad, that was

walking across the lawn as if he had a hundred years to do it in. Not

knowing what disgust meant, for this was one of her peculiarities, she

snatched up the toad, and bounded away. She had almost reached her

father, and he was holding out his arms to receive her, and take from

her lips the kiss which hovered on them like a butterfly on a rosebud,

when a puff of wind blew her aside into the arms of a young page, who

had just been receiving a message from his majesty. Now it was no

great peculiarity in the princess that, once she was set a-going, it

always cost her time and trouble to check herself. On this occasion

there was no time. She _must_ kiss--and she kissed the page. She did

not mind it much; for she had no shyness in her composition; and she

knew, besides, that she could not help it. So she only laughed, like a

musical-box. The poor page fared the worst. For the princess, trying

to correct the unfortunate tendency of the kiss, put out her hands to

keep her off the page; so that, along with the kiss, he received, on

the other cheek, a slap with the huge black toad, which she poked

right into his eye. He tried to laugh, too, but it resulted in a very

odd contortion of countenance, which showed that there was no danger

of his pluming himself on the kiss. Indeed it is not safe to be kissed

by princesses. As for the king, his dignity was greatly hurt, and he

did not speak to the page for a whole month.

"I may here remark that it was very amusing to see her run, if her

mode of progression could properly be called running. For first she

would make a bound; then, having alighted, she would run a few steps,

and make another bound. Sometimes she would fancy she had reached the

ground before she actually had, and her feet would go backwards and

forwards, running upon nothing at all, like those of a chicken on its

back. Then she would laugh like the very spirit of fun; only in her

laugh there was something missing. What it was, I find myself unable

to describe. I think it was a certain tone, depending upon the

possibility of sorrow--_morbidezza_, perhaps. She never smiled."

"I am not sure about your physics, Mr. Smith," said the doctor. "If

she had no gravity, no amount of muscular propulsion could have given

her any momentum. And again, if she had no gravity, she must

inevitably have ascended beyond the regions of the atmosphere."

"Bottle your philosophy, Harry, with the rest of your physics," said

the clergyman, laughing. "Don't you see that she must have had some

weight, only it wasn't worth mentioning, being no greater than the

ordinary weight of the atmosphere. Besides, you know very well that a

law of nature could not be destroyed. Therefore, it was only

witchcraft, you know; and the laws of that remain to be discovered--at

least so far as my knowledge goes.--Mr. Smith, you have gone in for a

fairy-tale; and if I were you, I would claim the immunities of

Fairyland."

"So I do," I responded fiercely, and went on.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER VII.--TRY METAPHYSICS.

"After a long avoidance of the painful subject, the king and queen

resolved to hold a counsel of three upon it; and so they sent for the

princess. In she came, sliding and flitting and gliding from one piece

of furniture to another, and put herself at last in an armchair, in a

sitting posture. Whether she could be said _to sit_, seeing she

received no support from the seat of the chair, I do not pretend to

determine.

"'My dear child,' said the king, 'you must be aware that you are not

exactly like other people.'

"'Oh, you dear funny papa! I have got a nose and two eyes and all the

rest. So have you. So has mamma.'

"'Now be serious, my dear, for once,' said the queen.

"'No, thank you, mamma; I had rather not.'

"'Would you not like to be able to walk like other people?' said the

king.

"'No indeed, I should think not. You only crawl. You are such slow

coaches!'

"'How do you feel, my child?' he resumed, after a pause of

discomfiture.

"'Quite well, thank you.'

"'I mean, what do you feel like?'

"'Like nothing at all, that I know of.'

"'You must feel like something.'

"'I feel like a princess with such a funny papa, and such a dear pet

of a queen-mamma!'

"'Now really!' began the queen; but the princess interrupted her.

"'Oh! yes,' she added, 'I remember. I have a curious feeling

sometimes, as if I were the only person that had any sense in the

whole world.'

"She had been trying to behave herself with dignity; but now she burst

into a violent fit of laughter, threw herself backwards over the

chair, and went rolling about the floor in an ecstasy of enjoyment.

The king picked her up easier than one does a down quilt, and replaced

her in her former relation to the chair. The exact preposition

expressing the relation I do not happen to know.

"'Is there nothing you wish for?' resumed the king, who had learned by

this time that it was quite useless to be angry with her.

"'O you dear papa!--yes,' answered she.

"'What is it, my darling?'

"'I have been longing for it--oh, such a time! Ever since last night.'

"'Tell me what it is.'

"'Will you promise to let me have it?'

"The king was on the point of saying _yes_; but the wiser queen

checked him with a single motion of her head.

"'Tell me what it is first,' said he.

"'No, no. Promise first.'

"'I dare not. What is it?'

"'Mind I hold you to your promise.--It is--to be tied to the end of a

string--a very long string indeed, and be flown like a kite. Oh, such

fun! I would rain rose-water, and hail sugar-plums, and snow

whipt-cream, and, and, and--'

"A fit of laughing checked her; and she would have been off again,

over the floor, had not the king started up and caught her just in

time. Seeing that nothing but talk could be got out of her, he rang

the bell, and sent her away with two of her ladies-in-waiting.

"'Now, queen,' he said, turning to her majesty, 'what _is_ to be

done?'

"'There is but one thing left,' answered she. 'Let us consult the

college of Metaphysicians.'

"'Bravo!' cried the king; 'we will.'

"Now at the head of this college were two very wise Chinese

philosophers--by name, Hum-Drum, and Kopy-Keck. For them the king

sent; and straightway they came. In a long speech, he communicated to

them what they knew very well already--as who did not?--namely, the

peculiar condition of his daughter in relation to the globe on which

she dwelt; and requested them to consult together as to what might be

the cause and probable cure of her _infirmity_. The king laid stress

upon the word, but failed to discover his own pun. The queen laughed;

but Hum-Drum and Kopy-Keck heard with humility and retired in silence.

Their consultation consisted chiefly in propounding and supporting,

for the thousandth time, each his favourite theories. For the

condition of the princess afforded delightful scope for the discussion

of every question arising from the division of thought--in fact of all

the Metaphysics of the Chinese Empire. But it is only justice to say

that they did not altogether neglect the discussion of the practical

question, _what was to be done_.

"Hum-Drum was a Materialist, and Kopy-Keck was a Spiritualist. The

former was slow and sententious; the latter was quick and flighty; the

latter had generally the first word; the former the last.

"'I assert my former assertion,' began Kopy-Keck, with a plunge.

'There is not a fault in the princess, body or soul; only they are

wrong put together. Listen to me now, Hum-Drum, and I will tell you in

brief what I think. Don't speak. Don't answer me. I won't hear you

till I have done.--At that decisive moment, when souls seek their

appointed habitations, two eager souls met, struck, rebounded, lost

their way, and arrived each at the wrong place. The soul of the

princess was one of those, and she went far astray. She does not

belong by rights to this world at all, but to some other planet,

probably Mercury. Her proclivity to her true sphere destroys all the

natural influence which this orb would otherwise possess over her

corporeal frame. She cares for nothing here. There is no relation

between her and this world.

"'She must therefore be taught, by the sternest compulsion, to

take an interest in the earth as the earth. She must study every

department of its history--its animal history; its vegetable history;

its mineral history; its social history; its moral history; its

political history; its scientific history; its literary history; its

musical history; its artistical history; above all, its metaphysical

history. She must begin with the Chinese Dynasty, and end with

Japan. But first of all she must study Geology, and especially the

history of the extinct races of animals--their natures, their habits,

their loves, their hates, their revenges. She must----'

"'Hold, h-o-o-old!' roared Hum-Drum. 'It is certainly my turn now. My

rooted and insubvertible conviction is that the causes of the

anomalies evident in the princess's condition are strictly and solely

physical. But that is only tantamount to acknowledging that they

exist. Hear my opinion.--From some cause or other, of no importance to

our inquiry, the motion of her heart has been reversed. That

remarkable combination of the suction and the force pump, works the

wrong way--I mean in the case of the unfortunate princess: it draws in

where it should force out, and forces out where it should draw in. The

offices of the auricles and the ventricles are subverted. The blood is

sent forth by the veins, and returns by the arteries. Consequently it

is running the wrong way through all her corporeal organism--lungs and

all. Is it then all mysterious, seeing that such is the case, that on

the other particular of gravitation as well, she should differ from

normal humanity? My proposal for the cure is this:

"Phlebotomize until she is reduced to the last point of safety. Let it

be effected, if necessary, in a warm bath. When she is reduced to a

state of perfect asphyxy, apply a ligature to the left ancle, drawing

it as tight as the bone will bear. Apply, at the same moment, another

of equal tension around the right wrist. By means of plates

constructed for the purpose, place the other foot and hand under the

receivers of two air-pumps. Exhaust the receivers. Exhibit a pint of

French brandy, and await the result.'

"'Which would presently arrive in the form of grim Death,' said

Kopy-Keck.

"'If it should, she would yet die in doing our duty,' retorted

Hum-Drum.

"But their Majesties had too much tenderness for their volatile

offspring to subject her to either of the schemes of the equally

unscrupulous philosophers. Indeed the most complete knowledge of the

laws of nature would have been unserviceable in her case; for it was

impossible to classify her. She was a fifth imponderable body, sharing

all the other properties of the ponderable.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER VIII.--TRY A DROP OF WATER.

"Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been falling in

love. But how a princess who had no gravity at all, could fall into

anything, is a difficulty--perhaps _the_ difficulty. As for her own

feelings on the subject, she did not even know that there was such a

bee-hive of honey and stings to be fallen into. And now I come to

mention another curious fact about her.

"The palace was built on the shore of the loveliest lake in the world;

and the princess loved this lake more than father or mother. The root

of this preference no doubt, although the princess did not recognize

it as such--was, that, the moment she got into it, she recovered the

natural right of which she had been so wickedly deprived--namely,

gravity. Whether this was owing to the fact that water had been

employed as the means of conveying the injury, I do not know. But it

is certain that she could swim and dive like the duck that her old

nurse said she was. The way that this alleviation of her misfortune

was discovered, was as follows. One summer evening, during the

carnival of the country, she had been taken upon the lake, by the king

and queen, in the royal barge. They were accompanied by many of the

courtiers in a fleet of little boats. In the middle of the lake she

wanted to get into the lord chancellor's barge, for his daughter, who

was a great favourite with her, was in it with her father. The old

king rarely condescended to make light of his misfortune; but on this

occasion he happened to be in a particularly good humour; and, as the

barges approached each other, he caught up the princess to throw her

into the chancellor's barge. He lost his balance, however, and,

dropping into the bottom of the barge, lost his hold of his daughter;

not however before imparting to her the downward tendency of his own

person, though in a somewhat different direction; for, as the king

fell into the boat, she fell into the water. With a burst of delighted

laughter, she disappeared in the lake. A cry of horror ascended from

the boats. They had never seen the princess go down before. Half the

men were under water in a moment; but they had all, one after another,

come up to the surface again for breath, when--tinkle, tinkle, babble

and gush! came the princess's laugh over the water from far

away. There she was, swimming like a swan. Nor would she come out for

king or queen, chancellor or daughter. But though she was obstinate,

she seemed more sedate than usual. Perhaps that was because a great

pleasure spoils laughing. After this, the passion of her life was to

get into the water, and she was always the better behaved and the more

beautiful the more she had of it. Summer and winter it was all the

same; only she could not stay quite so long in the water, when they

had to break the ice to let her in. Any day, from morning till

evening, she might be descried--a streak of white in the blue

water--lying as still as the shadow of a cloud, or shooting along like

a dolphin; disappearing, and coming up again far off, just where one

did not expect her. She would have been in the lake of a night too, if

she could have had her way; for the balcony of her window overhung a

deep pool in it; and through a shallow reedy passage she could have

swum out into the wide wet water, and no one would have been any the

wiser. Indeed when she happened to wake in the moonlight, she could

hardly resist the temptation. But there was the sad difficulty of

getting into it. She had as great a dread of the air as some children

have of the water. For the slightest gust of wind would blow her away;

and a gust might arise in the stillest moment. And if she gave herself

a push towards the water and just failed of reaching it, her situation

would be dreadfully awkward, irrespective of the wind; for at best

there she would have to remain, suspended in her nightgown, till she

was seen and angled for by somebody from the window.

"'Oh! if I had my gravity,' thought she contemplating the water, 'I

would flash off this balcony like a long white sea-bird, head-long

into the darling wetness. Heigh-ho!'

"This was the only consideration that made her wish to be like other

people.

"Another reason for being fond of the water was that in it alone she

enjoyed any freedom. For she could not walk out without a cortege,

consisting in part of a troop of light horse, for fear of the

liberties which the wind might take with her. And the king grew more

apprehensive with increasing years, till at last he would not allow

her to walk abroad without some twenty silken cords fastened to as

many parts of her dress, and held by twenty noble-men. Of course

horseback was out of the question. But she bade good-bye to all this

ceremony when she got into the water. So remarkable were its effects

upon her, especially in restoring her for the time to the ordinary

human gravity, that, strange to say, Hum-Drum and Kopy-Keck agreed in

recommending the king to bury her alive for three years; in the hope

that, as the water did her so much good, the earth would do her yet

more. But the king had some vulgar prejudices against the experiment,

and would not give his consent. Foiled in this, they yet agreed in

another recommendation; which, seeing that the one imported his

opinions from China and the other from Thibet, was very remarkable

indeed. They said that, if water of external origin and application

could be so efficacious, water from a deeper source might work a

perfect cure; in short, that, if the poor afflicted princess could by

any means be made to cry, she might recover her lost gravity.

"But how was this to be brought about? Therein lay all the difficulty.

The philosophers were not wise enough for this. To make the princess

cry was as impossible as to make her weigh. They sent for a

professional beggar; commanded him to prepare his most touching oracle

of woe; helped him, out of the court charade-box, to whatever he

wanted for dressing up, and promised great rewards in the event of his

success. But it was all in vain. She listened to the mendicant

artist's story, and gazed at his marvellous make-up, till she could

contain herself no longer, and went into the most undignified

contortions for relief, shrieking, positively screeching with

laughter.

"When she had a little recovered herself, she ordered her attendants

to drive him away, and not give him a single copper; whereupon his

look of mortified discomfiture wrought her punishment and his revenge,

for it sent her into violent hysterics, from which she was with

difficulty recovered.

"But so anxious was the king that the suggestion should have a fair

trial, that he put himself in a rage one day, and, rushing up to her

room, gave her an awful whipping. But not a tear would flow. She

looked grave, and her laughing sounded uncommonly like screaming--that

was all. The good old tyrant, though he put on his best gold

spectacles to look, could not discover the smallest cloud in the

serene blue of her eyes.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER IX.--PUT ME IN AGAIN.

"It must have been about this time that the son of a king, who lived a

thousand miles from Lagobel, set out to look for the daughter of a

queen. He travelled far and wide, but as sure as he found a princess,

he found some fault with her. Of course he could not marry a mere

woman, however beautiful, and there was no princess to be found worthy

of him. Whether the prince was so near perfection that he had a right

to demand perfection itself, I cannot pretend to say. All I know is

that he was a fine, handsome, brave, generous, well-bred and

well-behaved youth, as all princes are.

"In his wanderings he had come across some reports about our princess;

but as everybody said she was bewitched, he never dreamed that she

could bewitch him. For what indeed could a prince do with a princess

that had lost her gravity? Who could tell what she might not lose

next? She might lose her visibility; or her tangibility; or, in short,

the power of making impressions upon the radical sensorium; so that he

should never be able to tell whether she was dead or alive. Of course

he made no further inquiries about her.

"One day he lost sight of his retinue in a great forest. These forests

are very useful in delivering princes from their courtiers, like a

sieve that keeps back the bran. Then the princes get away to follow

their fortunes. In this they have the advantage of the princesses, who

are forced to marry before they have had a bit of fun. I wish our

princesses got lost in a forest sometimes.

"One lovely evening, after wandering about for many days, he found

that he was approaching the outskirts of this forest; for the trees

had got so thin that he could see the sunset through them; and he soon

came upon a kind of heath. Next he came upon signs of human

neighbourhood; but by this time it was getting late, and there was

nobody in the fields to direct him.

"After travelling for another hour, his horse, quite worn out with

long labour and lack of food, fell, and was unable to rise again. So

he continued his journey on foot. At length he entered another

wood--not a wild forest, but a civilized wood, through which a

footpath led him to the side of a lake. Along this path the prince

pursued his way through the gathering darkness. Suddenly he paused,

and listened. Strange sounds came across the water. It was, in fact,

the princess laughing. Now, there was something odd in her laugh, as I

have already hinted; for the hatching of a real hearty laugh, requires

the incubation of gravity; and, perhaps, this was how the prince

mistook the laughter for screaming. Looking over the lake, he saw

something white in the water; and, in an instant, he had torn off his

tunic, kicked off his sandals, and plunged in. He soon reached the

white object, and found that it was a woman. There was not light

enough to show that she was a princess, but quite enough to show that

she was a lady, for it does not want much light to see that.

"Now, I cannot tell how it came about;--whether she pretended to be

drowning, or whether he frightened her, or caught her so as to

embarrass her; but certainly he brought her to shore in a fashion

ignominious to a swimmer, and more nearly drowned than she had ever

expected to be; for the water had got into her throat as often as she

had tried to speak.

"At the place to which he bore her, the bank was only a foot or two

above the water; so he gave her a strong lift out of the water, to lay

her on the bank. But, her gravitation ceasing the moment she left the

water, away she went, up into the air, scolding and screaming:

"'You naughty, _naughty_, NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY man!'

"No one had ever succeeded in putting her into a passion before.--When

the prince saw her ascend, he thought he must have been bewitched, and

have mistaken a great swan for a lady. But the princess caught hold of

the topmost cone upon a lofty fir. This came off; but she caught at

another; and, in fact, stopped herself by gathering cones, dropping

them as the stalks gave way. The prince, meantime, stood in the water,

forgetting to get out. But the princess disappearing, he scrambled on

shore, and went in the direction of the tree. He found her climbing

down one of the branches, towards the stem. But in the darkness of the

wood, the prince continued in some bewilderment as to what the

phenomenon could be; until, reaching the ground, and seeing him

standing there, she caught hold of him, and said:

"I'll tell papa.'

"'Oh, no, you won't!' rejoined the prince.

"'Yes, I will,' she persisted. 'What business had you to pull me down

out of the water, and throw me to the bottom of the air? I never did

you any harm.'

"'I am sure I did not mean to hurt you.'

"'I don't believe you have any brains; and that is a worse loss than

your wretched gravity. I pity you.'

"The prince now saw that he had come upon the bewitched princess, and

had already offended her. Before he could think what to say next, the

princess, giving a stamp with her foot that would have sent her aloft

again, but for the hold she had of his arm, said angrily:

"'Put me up directly.'

"'Put you up where, you beauty?' asked the prince. "He had fallen in

love with her, almost, already; for her anger made her more charming

than anyone else had ever beheld her; and, as far as he could see,

which certainly was not far, she had not a single fault about her,

except, of course, that she had no gravity. A prince, however, must be

incapable of judging of a princess by weight. The loveliness of a

foot, for instance, is hardly to be estimated by the depth of the

impression it can make in mud!

"'Put you up where, you beauty?' said the prince.

"'In the water, you stupid!' answered the princess.

"'Come, then,' said the prince.

"The condition of her dress, increasing her usual difficulty in

walking, compelled her to cling to him; and he could hardly persuade

himself that he was not in a delightful dream, notwithstanding the

torrent of musical abuse with which she overwhelmed him. The prince

being in no hurry, they reached the lake at quite another part, where

the bank was twenty-five feet high at least. When they stood at the

edge, the prince, turning towards the princess, said:

"'How am I to put you in?'

"'That is your business,' she answered, quite snappishly. 'You took me

out--put me in again.'

"'Very well,' said the prince; and, catching her up in his arms, he

sprang with her from the rock. The princess had just time to give one

delighted shriek of laughter before the water closed over them. When

they came to the surface, the princess, for a moment or two, could not

even laugh, for she had gone down with such a rush, that it was with

difficulty that she recovered her breath. The moment they reached the

surface--

"'How do you like falling in?' said the prince.

"After a few efforts, the princess panted out:

"'Is that what you call _falling in_?'

"'Yes,' answered the prince, 'I should think it a very tolerable

specimen.'

"'It seemed to me like going up,' rejoined she.

"'My feeling was certainly one of elevation, too,' the prince

conceded.

"The princess did not appear to understand him, for she retorted his

first question:

'"How do _you_ like falling in?'

"'Beyond everything,' answered he; 'for I have fallen in with the only

perfect creature I ever saw.'

"'No more of that: I am tired of it,' said the princess.

"Perhaps she shared her father's aversion to punning.

"'Don't you like falling in, then?' said the prince.

"'It is the most delightful fun I ever had in my life,' answered

she. 'I never fell before. I wish I could learn. To think I am the

only person in my father's kingdom that can't fall!'

"Here the poor princess looked almost sad.

"'I shall be most happy to fall in with you any time you like.' said

the prince, devotedly.

"'Thank you. I don't know. Perhaps it would not be proper. But I don't

care. At all events, as we have fallen in, let us have a swim

together.'

"'With all my heart,' said the prince.

"And away they went, swimming, and diving, and floating, until at last

they heard cries along the shore, and saw lights glancing in all

directions. It was now quite late, and there was no moon.

"'I must go home,' said the princess. 'I am very sorry, for this is

delightful.'

"'So am I,' responded the prince. 'But I am glad I haven't a home to

go to--at least, I don't exactly know where it is.'

"'I wish I hadn't one either,' rejoined the princess; 'it is so

stupid! I have a great mind,' she continued, 'to play them all a

trick. Why couldn't they leave me alone? They won't trust me in the

lake for a single night! You see where that green light is burning?

That is the window of my room. Now if you would just swim there with

me very quietly, and when we are all but under the balcony, give me

such a push--_up_ you call it--as you did a little while ago, I should

be able to catch hold of the balcony, and get in at the window; and

then they may look for me till to-morrow morning!'

"'With more obedience than pleasure,' said the prince, gallantly; and

away they swam, very gently.

"'Will you be in the lake to-morrow-night?' the prince ventured to

ask.

"'To be sure I will. I don't think so. Perhaps,'--was the princess's

somewhat strange answer.

"But the prince was intelligent enough not to press her further; and

merely whispered, as he gave her the parting lift: 'Don't tell.' The

only answer the princess returned was a roguish look. She was already

a yard above his head. The look seemed to say: 'Never fear. It is too

good fun to spoil that way.'

"So perfectly like other people had she been in the water, that even

yet the prince could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw her ascend

slowly, grasp the balcony, and disappear through the window. He

turned, almost expecting to see her still by his side. But he was

alone in the water. So he swam away quietly, and watched the lights

roving about the shore for hours after the princess was safe in her

chamber. As soon as they disappeared, he landed in search of his tunic

and sword, and, after some trouble, found them again. Then he made the

best of his way round the lake to the other side. There the wood was

wilder, and the shore steeper--rising more immediately towards the

mountains which surrounded the lake on all sides, and kept sending it

messages of silvery streams from morning to night, and all night

long. He soon found a spot whence he could see the green light in the

princess's room, and where, even in the broad daylight, he would be in

no danger of being discovered from the opposite shore. It was a sort

of cave in the rock, where he provided himself a bed of withered

leaves, and lay down too tired for hunger to keep him awake. All night

long he dreamed that he was swimming with the princess."

"All that is very improper--to my mind," said Mrs. Cathcart. And she

glanced towards the place where Percy had deposited himself, as if she

were afraid of her boy's morals.

But if she was anxious on that score, her fears must have been

dispersed the same moment by an indubitable snore from the youth, who

was in his favourite position--lying at full length on a couch.

"You must remember all this is in Fairyland, aunt," said Adela, with a

smile. "Nobody does what papa and mamma would not like here. We must

not judge the people in fairy tales by precisely the same

conventionalities we have. They must be good after their own fashion."

"Conventionalities! Humph!" said Mrs. Cathcart.

"Besides, I don't think the princess was quite accountable," said I.

"You should have made her so, then," rejoined my critic.

"Oh! wait a little, madam," I replied.

"I think," said the clergyman, "that Miss Cathcart's defence is very

tolerably sufficient; and, in my character of Master of the

Ceremonies, I order Mr. Smith to proceed."

I made haste to do so, before Mrs. Cathcart should open a new battery.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER X.--LOOK AT THE MOON.

"Early the next morning, the prince set out to look for something to

eat, which he soon found at a forester's hut, where for many following

days he was supplied with all that a brave prince could consider

necessary. And having plenty to keep him alive for the present, he

would not think of wants not yet in existence. Whenever Care intruded,

this prince always bowed him out in the most princely manner.

"When he returned from his breakfast to his watch-cave, he saw the

princess already floating about in the lake, attended by the king and

queen--whom he knew by their crowns--and a great company in lovely

little boats, with canopies of all the colours of the rainbow, and

flags and streamers of a great many more. It was a very bright day,

and soon the prince, burned up with the heat, began to long for the

water and the cool princess. But he had to endure till the twilight;

for the boats had provisions on board, and it was not till the sun

went down, that the gay party began to vanish. Boat after boat drew

away to the shore, following that of the king and queen, till only

one, apparently the princess's own boat, remained. But she did not

want to go home even yet, and the prince thought he saw her order the

boat to the shore without her. At all events, it rowed away; and now,

of all the radiant company, only one white speck remained. Then the

prince began to sing.

"And this was what he sang:

"'Lady fair,

Swan-white,

Lift thine eyes,

Banish night

By the might

Of thine eyes.

Snowy arms,

Oars of snow,

Oar her hither,

Plashing low

Soft and slow,

Oar her hither.

Stream behind her

O'er the lake,

Radiant whiteness!

In her wake

Following, following for her sake,

Radiant whiteness!

Cling about her,

Waters blue;

Part not from her,

But renew

Cold and true

Kisses round her.

Lap me round,

Waters sad

That have left her;

Make me glad,

For ye had

Kissed her ere ye left her.'

"Before he had finished his song, the princess was just under the

place where he sat, and looking up to find him. Her ears had led her

truly.

"'Would you like a fall, princess?' said the prince, looking down.

"'Ah! there you are! Yes, if you please, prince,' said the princess,

looking up.

"'How do you know I am a prince, princess?' said the prince.

"'Because you are a very nice young man, prince,' said the princess.

"'Come up then, princess.'

"'Fetch me, prince.'

"The prince took off his scarf, then his sword-belt, then his tunic,

and tied them all together, and let them down. But the line was far

too short. He unwound his turban, and added it to the rest, when it

was all but long enough; and his purse completed it. The princess just

managed to lay hold of the knot of money, and was beside him in a

moment. This rock was much higher than the other, and the splash and

the dive were tremendous. The princess was in ecstasies of delight,

and their swim was delicious.

"Night after night they met, and swam about in the dark clear lake;

where such was the prince's delight, that (whether the princess's way

of looking at things infected him, or he was actually getting

light-headed,) he often fancied that he was swimming in the sky

instead of the lake. But when he talked about being in heaven, the

princess laughed at him dreadfully.

"When the moon came, she brought them fresh pleasure. Everything

looked strange and new in her light, with an old, withered, yet

unfading newness. When the moon was nearly full, one of their great

delights was, to dive deep in the water, and then, turning round, look

up through it at the great blot of light close above them, shimmering

and trembling and wavering, spreading and contracting, seeming to melt

away, and again grow solid. Then they would shoot up through it; and

lo! there was the moon, far off, clear and steady and cold, and very

lovely, at the bottom of a deeper and bluer lake than theirs, as the

princess said.

"The prince soon found out that while in the water the princess was

very like other people. And besides this, she was not so forward in

her questions, or pert in her replies at sea as on shore. Neither did

she laugh so much; and when she did laugh, it was more gently. She

seemed altogether more modest and maidenly in the water than out of

it. But when the prince, who had really fallen in love when he fell in

the lake, began to talk to her about love, she always turned her head

towards him and laughed. After a while she began to look puzzled, as

if she were trying to understand what he meant, but could

not--revealing a notion that he meant something. But as soon as ever

she left the lake, she was so altered, that the prince said to

himself: 'If I marry her, I see no help for it; we must turn merman

and mermaid, and go out to sea at once.'

* * * * *

"CHAPTER XI.--HISS!

"The princess's pleasure in the lake had grown to a passion, and she

could scarcely bear to be out of it for an hour. Imagine then her

consternation, when, diving with the prince one night, a sudden

suspicion seized her, that the lake was not so deep as it used to

be. The prince could not imagine what had happened. She shot to the

surface, and, without a word, swam at full speed towards the higher

side of the lake. He followed, begging to know if she was ill, or what

was the matter. She never turned her head, or took the smallest notice

of his question. Arrived at the shore, she coasted the rocks, with

minute inspection. But she was not able to come to a conclusion, for

the moon was very small, and so she could not see well. She turned

therefore and swam home, without saying a word to explain her conduct

to the prince, of whose presence she seemed no longer conscious. He

withdrew to his cave, in great perplexity and distress.

"Next day she made many observations, which, alas! strengthened her

fears. She saw that the banks were too dry; and that the grass on the

shore, and the trailing plants on the rocks, were withering away. She

caused marks to be made along the borders, and examined them, day

after day, in all directions of the wind; till at last the horrible

idea became a certain fact--that the surface of the lake was slowly

sinking.

"The poor princess nearly went out of the little mind she had. It was

awful to her, to see the lake which she loved more than any living

thing, lie dying before her eyes. It sank away, slowly vanishing. The

tops of rocks that had never been seen before, began to appear far

down in the clear water. Before long, they were dry in the sun. It was

fearful to think of the mud that would lie baking and festering, full

of lovely creatures dying, and ugly creatures coming to life, like the

unmaking of a world. And how hot the sun would be without any lake!

She could not bear to swim in it, and began to pine away. Her life

seemed bound up with it; and ever as the lake sank, she pined. People

said she would not live an hour after the lake was gone.--But she

never cried.

"Proclamation was made to all the kingdom, that whosoever should

discover the cause of the lake's decrease, would be rewarded after a

princely fashion. Hum-Drum and Kopy-Keck applied themselves to their

physics and metaphysics; but in vain. No one came forward to suggest a

cause.

"Now the fact was, that the old princess was at the root of the

mischief. When she heard that her niece found more pleasure in the

water, than any one else had out of it, she went into a rage, and

cursed herself for her want of foresight.

"'But,' said she, 'I will soon set all right. The king and the people

shall die of thirst; their brains shall boil and frizzle in their

skulls, before I shall lose my revenge.'

"And she laughed a ferocious laugh, that made the hairs on the back of

her black cat stand erect with terror.

"Then she went to an old chest in the room, and opening it, took out

what looked like a piece of dried sea-weed. This she threw into a tub

of water. Then she threw some powder into the water, and stirred it

with her bare arm, muttering over it words of hideous sound, and yet

more hideous import. Then she set the tub aside, and took from the

chest a huge bunch of a hundred rusty keys, that clattered in her

shaking hands. Then she sat down and proceeded to oil them all. Before

she had finished, out from the tub, the water of which had kept on a

slow motion ever since she had ceased stirring it, came the head and

half the body of a huge grey snake. But the witch did not look

round. It grew out of the tub, waving itself backwards and forwards

with a slow horizontal motion, till it reached the princess, when it

laid its head upon her shoulder, and gave a low hiss in her ear. She

started--but with joy; and seeing the head resting on her shoulder,

drew it towards her and kissed it. Then she drew it all out of the

tub, and wound it round her body. It was one of those dreadful

creatures which few have ever beheld--the White Snakes of Darkness.

"Then she took the keys and went down into her cellar; and as she

unlocked the door, she said to herself,

"'This _is_ worth living for!'

"Locking the door behind her, she descended a few steps into the

cellar, and crossing it, unlocked another door into a dark, narrow

passage. This also she locked behind her, and descended a few more

steps. If any one had followed the witch-princess, he would have heard

her unlock exactly one hundred doors, and descend a few steps after

unlocking each. When she had unlocked the last, she entered a vast

cave, the roof of which was supported by huge natural pillars of

rock. Now this roof was the underside of the bottom of the lake.

"She then untwined the snake from her body, and held it by the tail,

high above her. The hideous creature stretched up its head towards the

roof of the cavern, which it was just able to reach. It then began to

move its head backwards and forwards, with a slow oscillating motion,

as if looking for something. At the same moment, the witch began to

walk round and round the cavern, coming nearer to the centre every

circuit; while the head of the snake described the same path over the

roof that she did over the floor, for she held it up still. And still

it kept slowly oscillating. Round and round the cavern they went thus,

ever lessening the circuit, till, at last, the snake made a sudden

dart, and clung fast to the roof with its mouth. 'That's right, my

beauty!' cried the princess; 'drain it dry.'

"She let it go, left it hanging, and sat down on a great stone, with

her black cat, who had followed her all round the cave, by her

side. Then she began to knit, and mutter awful words. The snake hung

like a huge leech, sucking at the stone; the cat stood with his back

arched, and his tail like a piece of cable, looking up at the snake;

and the old woman sat and knitted and muttered. Seven days and seven

nights they sat thus; when suddenly the serpent dropped from the roof,

as if exhausted, and shrivelled up like a piece of dried sea-weed on

the floor. The witch started to her feet, picked it up, put it in her

pocket, and looked up at the roof. One drop of water was trembling on

the spot where the snake had been sucking. As soon as she saw that,

she turned and fled, followed by her cat. She shut the door in a

terrible hurry, locked it, and having muttered some frightful words,

sped to the next, which also she locked and muttered over; and so with

all the hundred doors, till she arrived in her own cellar. There she

sat down on the floor ready to faint, but listening with malicious

delight to the rushing of the water, which she could hear distinctly

through all the hundred doors.

"But this was not enough. Now that she had tasted revenge, she lost

her patience. Without further measures, the lake would be too long in

disappearing. So the next night, with the last shred of the dying old

moon rising, she took some of the water in which she had revived the

snake, put it in a bottle, and set out, accompanied by her cat. Ere

she returned, she had made the entire circuit of the lake, muttering

fearful words as she crossed every stream, and casting into it some of

the water out of her bottle. When she had finished the circuit, she

muttered yet again, and flung a handful of the water towards the

moon. Every spring in the country ceased to throb and bubble, dying

away like the pulse of a dying man. The next day there was no sound of

falling water to be heard along the borders of the lake. The very

courses were dry; and the mountains showed no silvery streaks down

their dark sides. And not alone had the fountains of mother Earth

ceased to flow; for all the babies throughout the country were crying

dreadfully--only without tears.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER XII.--WHERE IS THE PRINCE?

"Never since the night when the princess left him so abruptly, had the

prince had a single interview with her. He had seen her once or twice

in the lake; but as far as he could discover, she had not been in it

any more at night. He had sat and sung, and looked in vain for his

Nereid; while she, like a true Nereid, was wasting away with her lake,

sinking as it sank, withering as it dried. When at length he

discovered the change that was taking place in the level of the water,

he was in great alarm and perplexity. He could not tell whether the

lake was dying because the lady had forsaken it; or whether the lady

would not come because the lake had begun to sink. But he resolved to

know so much at least.

"He disguised himself, and, going to the palace, requested to see the

lord chamberlain. His appearance at once gained his request; and the

lord chamberlain being a man of some insight, perceived that there was

more in the prince's solicitation than met the ear. He felt likewise

that no one could tell whence a solution of the present difficulties

might arise. So he granted the prince's prayer to be made shoe-black

to the princess. It was rather knowing in the prince to request such

an easy post; for the princess could not possibly soil as many shoes

as other princesses.

"He soon learned all that could be told about the princess. He went

nearly distracted; but, after roaming about the lake for days, and

diving in every depth that remained, all that he could do was to put

an extra-polish on the dainty pair of boots that was never called for.

"For the princess kept her room, with the curtains drawn to shut out

the dying lake. But she could not shut it out of her mind for a

moment. It haunted her imagination so that she felt as if her lake

were her soul, drying up within her, first to become mud, and then

madness and death. She brooded over the change, with all its dreadful

accompaniments, till she was nearly out of her mind. As for the

prince, she had forgotten him. However much she had enjoyed his

company in the water, she did not care for him without it. But she

seemed to have forgotten her father and mother too.

"The lake went on sinking. Small slimy spots began to appear, which

glittered steadily amidst the changeful shine of the water. These grew

to broad patches of mud, which widened and spread, with rocks here and

there, and floundering fishes and crawling eels swarming about. The

people went everywhere catching these, and looking for anything that

might have been dropped into the water.

"At length the lake was all but gone; only a few of the deepest pools

remaining unexhausted.

"It happened one day that a party of youngsters found themselves on

the brink of one of these pools, in the very centre of the lake. It

was a rocky basin of considerable depth. Looking in, they saw at the

bottom something that shone yellow in the sun. A little boy jumped in

and dived for it. It was a plate of gold, covered with writing. They

carried it to the king.

"On one side of it stood these words:

'Death alone from death can save.

Love is death, and so is brave.

Love can fill the deepest grave.

Love loves on beneath the wave.'

"Now this was enigmatical enough to the king and courtiers. But the

reverse of the plate explained it a little. Its contents amounted to

this:

"_If the lake should disappear, they must find the hole through which

the water ran. But it would be useless to try to stop it by any

ordinary means. There was but one effectual mode.--The body of a

living man could alone stanch the flow. The man must give himself of

his own will; and the lake must take his life as it filled. Otherwise

the offering would be of no avail. If the nation could not provide one

hero, it was time it should perish._

* * * * *

"CHAPTER XIII.--HERE I AM.

"This was a very disheartening revelation to the king. Not that he was

unwilling to sacrifice a subject, but that he was hopeless of finding

a man willing to sacrifice himself. No time could be lost, however;

for the princess was lying motionless on her bed, and taking no

nourishment but lake-water, which was now none of the best. Therefore

the king caused the contents of the wonderful plate of gold to be

published throughout the country.

"No one, however, came forward.

"The prince, having gone several days' journey into the forest, to

consult a hermit whom he had met there on his way to Lagobel, knew

nothing of the oracle till his return.

"When he had acquainted himself with all the particulars, he sat down

and thought.

"'She would die, if I didn't do it; and life would be nothing to me

without her: so I shall lose nothing by doing it. And life will be as

pleasant to her as ever, for she will soon forget me, and there will

be so much more beauty and happiness in the world. To be sure I shall

not see it.'--Here the poor prince gave a sigh.--'How lovely the lake

will be in the moonlight, with that glorious creature sporting in it

like a wild goddess! It is rather hard to be drowned by inches,

though. Let me see--that will be seventy inches of me to drown.'--Here

he tried to laugh, but could not.--'The longer the better, however,'

he resumed; 'for can I not bargain that the princess shall be beside

me all the time? So I shall see her once more, kiss her perhaps, who

knows?--and die looking in her eyes. It will be no death. At least I

shall not feel it. And to see the lake filling for the beauty

again!--All right! I am ready.'

"He kissed the princess's boot, laid it down, and hurried to the

king's apartment. But feeling, as he went, that anything sentimental

would be disagreeable, he resolved to carry off the whole affair with

burlesque. So he knocked at the door of the king's counting-house,

where it was all but a capital crime to disturb him. When the king

heard the knock, he started up, and opened the door in a rage. Seeing

only the shoe-black, he drew his sword. This, I am sorry to say, was

his usual mode of asserting his regality, when he thought his dignity

was in danger. But the prince was not in the least alarmed.

"'Please your majesty, I'm your butler,' said he.

"'My butler! you lying rascal? What do you mean?'

"'I mean, I will cork your big bottle.'

"'Is the fellow mad?' bawled the king, raising the point of his sword.

"'I will put a stopper--plug--what you call it, in your leaky lake,

grand monarch,' said the prince.

"The king was in such a rage, that before he could speak he had time

to cool, and to reflect that it would be great waste to kill the only

man who was willing to be useful in the present emergency, seeing that

in the end the insolent fellow would be as dead as if he had died by

his majesty's own hand.

"'Oh!' said he at last, putting up his sword with difficulty--it was

so long; 'I am obliged to you, you young fool! Take a glass of wine?'

"'No, thank you,' replied the prince.

"'Very well,' said the king. 'Would you like to run and see your

parents before you make your experiment?'

"'No, thank you,' said the prince.

"'Then we will go and look for the hole at once,' said his majesty,

and proceeded to call some attendants.

"'Stop, please your majesty; I have a condition to make,' interposed

the prince.

"'What!' exclaimed the king; 'a condition! and with me! How dare you?'

"'As you please,' said the prince coolly. 'I wish your majesty good

morning.'

"'You wretch! I will have you put in a sack, and stuck in the hole.'

"'Very well, your majesty,' replied the prince, becoming a little more

respectful, lest the wrath of the king should deprive him of the

pleasure of dying for the princess. 'But what good will that do your

majesty? Please to remember that the oracle says the victim must offer

himself.'

"'Well, you _have_ offered yourself,' retorted the king.

"'Yes, upon one condition.'

"'Condition again!' roared the king, once more drawing his sword.

'Begone! Somebody else will be glad enough to take the honour off your

shoulders.'

"'Your majesty knows it will not be easy to get one to take my place.'

"'Well, what is your condition?' growled the king, feeling that the

prince was right.

"'Only this,' replied the prince: 'that, as I must on no account die

before I am fairly drowned, and the waiting will be rather wearisome,

the princess, your daughter, shall go with me, feed me with her own

hands, and look at me now and then, to comfort me; for you must

confess it is rather hard. As soon as the water is up to my eyes, she

may go and be happy, and forget her poor shoe-black.'

"Here the prince's voice faltered, and he very nearly grew

sentimental, in spite of his resolutions.

"'Why didn't you tell me before what your condition was? Such a fuss

about nothing!' exclaimed the king.

"'Do you grant it?' persisted the prince.

"'I do,' replied the king.

"'Very well. I am ready.'

"'Go and have some dinner, then, while I set my people to find the

place.'

"The king ordered out his guards, and gave directions to the officers

to find the hole in the lake at once. So the bed of the lake was

marked out in divisions, and thoroughly examined; and in an hour or

so, the hole was discovered. It was in the middle of a stone, near the

centre of the lake, in the very pool where the golden plate had been

found. It was a three-cornered hole, of no great size. There was water

all round the stone, but none was flowing through the hole.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER XIV.--THIS IS VERY KIND OF YOU.

"The prince went to dress for the occasion, for he was resolved to die

like a prince.

"When the princess heard that a man had offered to die for her, she

was so transported that she jumped off the bed, feeble as she was, and

danced about the room for joy. She did not care who the man was; that

was nothing to her. The hole wanted stopping; and if only a man would

do, why, take one. In an hour or two more, everything was ready. Her

maid dressed her in haste, and they carried her to the side of the

lake. When she saw it, she shrieked, and covered her face with her

hands. They bore her across to the stone, where they had already

placed a little boat for her. The water was not deep enough to float

it, but they hoped it would be, before long. They laid her on

cushions, placed in the boat wines and fruits and other nice things,

and stretched a canopy over all.

"In a few minutes, the prince appeared. The princess recognized him at

once; but did not think it worth while to acknowledge him.

"'Here I am,' said the prince. 'Put me in.'

"'They told me it was a shoe-black,' said the princess.

"'So I am,' said the prince. 'I blacked your little boots three times

a day, because they were all I could get of you. Put me in.'

"The courtiers did not resent his bluntness, except by saying to each

other, that he was taking it out in impudence.

"But how was he to be put in? The golden plate contained no

instructions on this point. The prince looked at the hole, and saw but

one way. He put both his legs into it, sitting on the stone, and,

stooping forward, covered the two corners that remained open, with his

two hands. In this uncomfortable position he resolved to abide his

fate, and, turning to the people, said:

"'Now you can go.'

"The king had already gone home to dinner.

"'Now you can go,' repeated the princess after him, like a parrot.

"The people obeyed her, and went.

"Presently a little wave flowed over the stone, and wetted one of the

prince's knees. But he did not mind it much. He began to sing, and the

song he sang was this:

"'As a world that has no well,

Darkly bright in forest-dell;

As a world without the gleam

Of the downward-going stream;

As a world without the glance

Of the ocean's fair expanse;

As a world where never rain

Glittered on the sunny plain;

Such, my heart, thy world would be,

If no love did flow in thee.

"'As a world without the sound

Of the rivulets under ground;

Or the bubbling of the spring

Out of darkness wandering;

Or the mighty rush and flowing

Of the river's downward going;

Or the music-showers that drop

On the outspread beech's top;

Or the ocean's mighty voice,

When his lifted waves rejoice;

Such, my soul, thy world would be,

If no love did sing in thee.

"'Lady, keep thy world's delight;

Keep the waters in thy sight.

Love hath made me strong to go,

For thy sake, to realms below,

Where the water's shine and hum

Through the darkness never come:

Let, I pray, one thought of me

Spring, a little well, in thee;

Lest thy loveless soul be found

Like a dry and thirsty ground.'

"'Sing again, prince. It makes it less tedious,' said the princess.

"But the prince was too much overcome to sing any more. And a long

pause followed.

"'This is very kind of you, prince,' said the princess at last, quite

coolly, as she lay in the boat with her eyes shut.

"'I am sorry I can't return the compliment,' thought the prince; 'but

you are worth dying for after all.'

"Again a wavelet, and another, and another, flowed over the stone, and

wetted both the prince's knees thoroughly; but he did not speak or

move. Two--three--four hours passed in this way, the princess

apparently fast asleep, and the prince very patient. But he was much

disappointed in his position, for he had none of the consolation he

had hoped for.

"At last he could bear it no longer.

"'Princess!' said he.

"But at the moment, up started the princess, crying,

"'I'm afloat! I'm afloat!'

"And the little boat bumped against the stone.

"'Princess!' repeated the prince, encouraged by seeing her wide awake,

and looking eagerly at the water.

"'Well?' said she, without once looking round.

"'Your papa promised that you should look at me; and you haven't

looked at me once.'

"'Did he? Then I suppose I must. But I am so sleepy!'

"'Sleep then, darling, and don't mind me,' said the poor prince.

"'Really, you are very good,' replied the princess. 'I think I will go

to sleep again.'

"'Just give me a glass of wine and a biscuit, first,' said the prince

very humbly.

"'With all my heart,' said the princess, and gaped as she said it.

"She got the wine and the biscuit, however; and, coming nearer with

them,

"'Why, prince,' she said, 'you don't look well! Are you sure you don't

mind it?'

"'Not a bit,' answered he, feeling very faint indeed. 'Only, I shall

die before it is of any use to you, unless I have something to eat.'

"'There, then!' said she, holding out the wine to him.

"'Ah! you must feed me. I dare not move my hands. The water would run

away directly.'

"'Good gracious!' said the princess; and she began at once to feed him

with bits of biscuit, and sips of wine.

"As she fed him, he contrived to kiss the tips of her fingers now and

then. She did not seem to mind it, one way or the other. But the

prince felt better.

"'Now, for your own sake, princess,' said he, 'I cannot let you go to

sleep. You must sit and look at me, else I shall not be able to keep

up.'

"'Well, I will do anything I can to oblige you,' answered she, with

condescension; and, sitting down, she did look at him, and kept

looking at him with wonderful steadiness, considering all things.

"The sun went down, and the moon came up; and, gush after gush, the

waters were flowing over the rock. They were up to the prince's waist

now.

"'Why can't we go and have a swim?' said the princess. 'There seems to

be water enough just about here.'

"'I shall never swim more,' said the prince.

"'Oh! I forgot,' said the princess, and was silent.

"So the water grew and grew, and rose up and up on the prince. And the

princess sat and looked at him. She fed him now and then. The night

wore on. The waters rose and rose. The moon rose likewise, higher and

higher, and shone full on the face of the dying prince. The water was

up to his neck.

"'Will you kiss me, princess?' said he feebly at last; for the fun was

all out of him now.

"'Yes, I will,' answered the princess; and kissed him with a long,

sweet, cold kiss.

"'Now,' said he, with a sigh of content, 'I die happy.'

"He did not speak again. The princess gave him some wine for the last

time: he was past eating. Then she sat down again, and looked at

him. The water rose and rose. It touched his chin. It touched his

lower lip. It touched between his lips. He shut them hard to keep it

out. The princess began to feel strange. It touched his upper lip. He

breathed through his nostrils. The princess looked wild. It covered

his nostrils. Her eyes looked scared, and shone strange in the

moonlight. His head fell back; the water closed over it; and the

bubbles of his last breath bubbled up through the water. The princess

gave a shriek, and sprang into the lake.

"She laid hold first of one leg, then of the other, and pulled and

tugged, but she could not move either. She stopped to take breath, and

that made her think that he could not get any breath. She was frantic.

She got hold of him, and held his head above the water, which was

possible now his hands were no longer on the hole. But it was of no

use, for he was past breathing.

"Love and water brought back all her strength. She got under the

water, and pulled and pulled with her whole might, till, at last, she

got one leg out. The other easily followed. How she got him into the

boat she never could tell; but when she did, she fainted away. Coming

to herself, she seized the oars, kept herself steady as best she

could; and rowed and rowed, though she had never rowed before. Round

rocks, and over shallows, and through mud, she rowed, till she got to

the landing-stairs of the palace. By this time her people were on the

shore, for they had heard her shriek. She made them carry the prince

to her own room, and lay him in her bed, and light a fire, and send

for the doctors.

"'But the lake, your Highness!' said the Chamberlain, who, roused by

the noise, came in, in his night-cap.

"'Go and drown yourself in it!' said she.

"This was the last rudeness of which the princess was ever guilty; and

one must allow that she had good cause to feel provoked with the lord

chamberlain.

"Had it been the king himself, he would have fared no better. But both

he and the queen were fast asleep. And the chamberlain went back to

his bed. So the princess and her old nurse were left with the prince.

Somehow, the doctors never came. But the old nurse was a wise woman,

and knew what to do.

"They tried everything for a long time without success. The princess

was nearly distracted between hope and fear, but she tried on and on,

one thing after another, and everything over and over again.

"At last, when they had all but given it up, just as the sun rose, the

prince opened his eyes.

* * * * *

"CHAPTER XV.--LOOK AT THE RAIN!

"The princess burst into a passion of tears, and _fell_ on the floor.

There she lay for an hour, and her tears never ceased. All the pent-up

crying of her life was spent now. And a rain came on, such as had

never been seen in that country. The sun shone all the time, and the

great drops, which fell straight to the earth, shone likewise. The

palace was in the heart of a rainbow. It was a rain of rubies, and

sapphires, and emeralds, and topazes. The torrents poured from the

mountains like molten gold; and if it had not been for its

subterraneous outlet, the lake would have overflowed and inundated the

country. It was full from shore to shore.

"But the princess did not heed the lake. She lay on the floor and

wept. And this rain within doors was far more wonderful than the rain

out of doors. For when it abated a little, and she proceeded to rise,

she found, to her astonishment, that she could not. At length, after

many efforts, she succeeded in getting upon her feet. But she tumbled

down again directly. Hearing her fall, her old nurse uttered a yell of

delight, and ran to her, screaming:

"'My darling child! She's found her gravity!'

"'Oh! that's it, is it?' said the princess, rubbing her shoulder and

her knee alternately. 'I consider it very unpleasant. I feel as if I

should be crushed to pieces.'

"'Hurrah!' cried the prince, from the bed. 'If you're all right,

princess, so am I. How's the lake?'

"'Brimful,' answered the nurse.

"'Then we're all jolly.'

"'That we are, indeed!' answered the princess, sobbing.

"And there was rejoicing all over the country that rainy day. Even the

babies forgot their past troubles, and danced and crowed amazingly.

And the king told stories, and the queen listened to them. And he

divided the money in his box, and she the honey in her pot, to all the

children. And there was such jubilation as was never heard of before.

"Of course the prince and princess were betrothed at once. But the

princess had to learn to walk, before they could be married with any

propriety. And this was not so easy, at her time of life, for she

could walk no more than a baby. She was always falling down and

hurting herself.

"'Is this the gravity you used to make so much of?' said she, one day,

to the prince. 'For my part, I was a great deal more comfortable

without it.'

"'No, no; that's not it. This is it,' replied the prince, as he took

her up, and carried her about like a baby, kissing her all the time.

'This is gravity.'

"'That's better,' said she. 'I don't mind that so much.'

"And she smiled the sweetest, loveliest smile in the prince's face.

And she gave him one little kiss, in return for all his; and he

thought them overpaid, for he was beside himself with delight. I fear

she complained of her gravity more than once after this,

notwithstanding.

"It was a long time before she got reconciled to walking. But the pain

of learning it, was quite counterbalanced by two things, either of

which would have been sufficient consolation. The first was, that the

prince himself was her teacher; and the second, that she could tumble

into the lake as often as she pleased. Still, she preferred to have

the prince jump in with her; and the splash they made before, was

nothing to the splash they made now.

"The lake never sank again. In process of time, it wore the roof of

the cavern quite through, and was twice as deep as before.

"The only revenge the princess took upon her aunt, was to tread pretty

hard on her gouty toe, the next time she saw her. But she was sorry

for it the very next day, when she heard that the water had undermined

her house, and that it had fallen in the night, burying her in its

ruins; whence no one ever ventured to dig up her body. There she lies

to this day.

"So the prince and princess lived and were happy; and had crowns of

gold, and clothes of cloth, and shoes of leather, and children of boys

and girls, not one of whom was ever known, on the most critical

occasion, to lose the smallest atom of his or her due proportion of

gravity."

* * * * *

"Bravo!"

"Capital!"

"Very good indeed!"

"Quite a success!"

cried my complimentary friends.

"I don't think the princess could have rowed, though--without gravity,

you know," said the schoolmaster.

"But she did," said Adela. "I won't have my uncle found fault with. It

is a very funny, and a very pretty story."

"What is the moral of it?" drawled Mrs. Cathcart, with the first

syllable of _moral_ very long and very gentle.

"That you need not be afraid of ill-natured aunts, though they are

witches," said Adela.

"No, my dear; that's not it," I said. "It is, that you need not mind

forgetting your poor relations. No harm will come of it in the end."

"I think the moral is," said the doctor, "that no girl is worth

anything till she has cried a little."

Adela gave him a quick glance, and then cast her eyes down. Whether he

had looked at her I don't know. But I should think not.--Neither the

clergyman nor his wife had made any remark. I turned to them.

"I am afraid you do not approve of my poor story," I said.

"On the contrary," replied Mr. Armstrong, "I think there is a great

deal of meaning in it, to those who can see through its fairy-gates.

What do you think of it, my dear?"

"I was so pleased with the earnest parts of it, that the fun jarred

upon me a little, I confess," said Mrs. Armstrong. "But I daresay that

was silly."

"I think it was, my dear. But you can afford to be silly sometimes, in

a good cause."

"You might have given us the wedding." said Mrs. Bloomfield.

"I am an old bachelor, you see. I fear I don't give weddings their

due," I answered. "I don't care for them--in stories, I mean."

"When will you dine with us again?" asked the colonel.

"When you please," answered the curate.

"To-morrow, then?"

"Rather too soon that, is it not? Who is to read the next story?"

"Why, you, of course," answered his brother.

"I am at your service," rejoined Mr. Armstrong. "But to-morrow!"

"Don't you think, Ralph," said his wife, "you could read better if you

followed your usual custom of dining early?"

"I am sure I should, Lizzie. Don't you think, Colonel Cathcart, it

would be better to come in the evening, just after your dinner? I like

to dine early, and I am a great tea-drinker. If we might have a huge

tea-kettle on the fire, and tea-pot to correspond on the table, and I,

as I read my story, and the rest of the company, as they listen, might

help ourselves, I think it would be very jolly, and very homely."

To this the colonel readily agreed. I heard the ladies whispering a

little, and the words--"Very considerate indeed!" from Mrs.

Bloomfield, reached my ears. Indeed I had thought that the colonel's

hospitality was making him forget his servants. And I could not help

laughing to think what Beeves's face would have been like, if he had

heard us all invited to dinner again, the next day.

Whether Adela suspected us now, I do not know. She said nothing to

show it.

Just before the doctor left, with his brother and sister, he went up

to her, and said, in a by-the-bye sort of way:

"I am sorry to hear that you have not been quite well of late, Miss

Cathcart. You have been catching cold, I am afraid. Let me feel your

pulse."

She gave him her wrist directly, saying:

"I feel much better to-night, thank you."

He stood--listening to the pulse, you would have said--his whole

attitude was so entirely that of one listening, with his eyes doing

nothing at all. He stood thus for a while, without consulting his

watch, looking as if the pulse had brought him into immediate

communication with the troubled heart itself, and he could feel every

flutter and effort which it made. Then he took out his watch and

counted.

Now that his eyes were quite safe, I saw Adela's eyes steal up to his

face, and rest there for a half a minute with a reposeful expression.

I felt that there was something healing in the very presence and touch

of the man--so full was he of health and humanity; and I thought Adela

felt that he was a good man, and one to be trusted in.

He gave her back her hand, as it were, so gently did he let it go, and

said:

"I will send you something as soon as I get home, to take at once. I

presume you will go to bed soon?"

"I will, if you think it best."

And so Mr. Henry Armstrong was, without more ado, tacitly installed as

physician to Miss Adela Cathcart; and she seemed quite content with

the new arrangement.