"Oh, lady, I think I am dying! I have lain here all night, torn and
bleeding, and none of my race can live many hours on land."
Half-terrified at the strange words, but still more pitiful, Hebe
hastened out. The window opened on to a little balcony, and steps led
down to the garden. She would almost have been too frightened to
approach Chryssa--for though there were old legends of mer-folk about
that coast, generations had passed since any had actually been seen--but
for the sweet expression in the little mermaid's face and eyes, dying
though she seemed. This gave Hebe courage to go near her, and with the
ointment and linen she quickly fetched, to bind up her cuts and bruises.
Then Chryssa told her story in gasping words.
"If I could but live to take a rose to the Queen," she said, "I would
not mind dying; though, for one of my race, life should last for full
five hundred years, and life is very beautiful."
"Alas!" said the earth-maiden, "there are no roses in our garden, the
soil does not suit them; and before I could procure one for you, you
would die, I fear. But,"--and she made a great effort--"I will do for
you what I had thought I could never do but a few minutes ago. I will
give you my own rose--the first gift of my best beloved." And with the
words, she ran back to her chamber and returned, the red rose fresh and
blooming in her hand.
She kissed it as she gave it to Chryssa.
"Carry healing in your fragrance," she murmured. And, strange to say,
as a breath of its perfume reached the mermaid, she herself in some
magical way began to revive. Her eyes sparkled as she blessed Hebe for
her generous sacrifice.
"I feel," she said, "that the conditions are all fulfilled. My Queen
will be saved."
But Hebe's eyes looked over the fields to where the waves were lapping
the shore.
"The tide is coming in," she said, "you will not now have so far to go.
But I must help you. Clasp me firmly round the neck, and I will carry
you to the nearest creek, where already you will find the ocean water,
which is to you what this fresh, balmy air is to us."
And little Chryssa did as she was told, and Hebe, lifting the light
burden in her strong young arms, carried the daughter of the strange
unknown race of the sea as tenderly as if she had been a fragile sister
of her own. For, after all, there was the greatest of all bonds between
them--love and self-sacrifice in their hearts.
All went well. Chryssa reached the sea-king's palace feeling stronger
and better than when she set out, and the rose, too, seemed to have
gained fresh beauty and fragrance by its contact with the waves. No
sooner did the almost dying Queen breathe its perfume than her strength
began to return, and in a few hours she was cured.
No reward would have been too great for the King and Queen to bestow
upon the little mermaid; but she asked for none save to be her
mistress's constant attendant.
They say--so, at least, the waves, who told me the story, whispered--
that down in the ocean depths, somewhere in a wonderful palace, there
blooms still a flower of earth--a red rose--endowed with a magic gift of
health and healing.
Mrs Caretaker's voice stopped. For a moment or two the children did
not move. Then she laid her hand gently on their heads, and they lifted
them.
"It is a lovely story," said Alix, with a sigh of content. "Do you
think, dear Mrs Caretaker, that _perhaps_ we may see Chryssa some day
when we are bathing?"
Mrs Caretaker shook her head.
"At least we may _look_ for her; perhaps she comes up to the shore
sometimes--we _might_ catch a peep of her face among the surf. You
might send her a message by one of the fishes you know, Mrs Caretaker."
The old woman smiled.
But suddenly Rafe started.
"I was forgetting," he said. "Haven't we been here a great while? What
_will_ nurse say?"
"Never mind," said their friend. "Remember, I promised to see you
home," and again she stroked their heads.