SPRING-TIME
THE spring, so dear to all creatures, young and old, came at last, and
before the first few days of it had gone, the king rode through its
budding valleys to see his little daughter. He had been in a distant
part of his dominions all the winter, for he was not in the habit of
stopping in one great city, or of visiting only his favorite country
houses, but he moved from place to place, that all his people might know
him. Wherever he journeyed, he kept a constant lookout for the ablest
and best men to put into office, and wherever he found himself mistaken,
and those he had appointed incapable or unjust, he removed them at once.
Hence you see it was his care of the people that kept him from seeing
his princess so often as he would have liked. You may wonder why he did
not take her about with him; but there were several reasons against his
doing so, and I suspect her great-great-grandmother had had a principal
hand in preventing it. Once more Irene heard the bugle-blast, and once
more she was at the gate to meet her father as he rode up on his great
white horse.
After they had been alone for a little while, she thought of what she
had resolved to ask him.
"Please, king-papa," she said, "will you tell me where I got this pretty
ring? I can't remember."
The king looked at it. A strange, beautiful smile spread like sunshine
over his face, and an answering smile, but at the same time a
questioning one, spread like moonlight over Irene's.
"It was your queen-mamma's once," he said.
"And why isn't it hers now?" asked Irene.
"She does not want it now," said the king, looking grave.
"Why doesn't she want it now?"
"Because she's gone where all those rings are made."
"And when shall I see her?" asked the princess.
"Not for some time yet," answered the king, and the tears came in his
eyes.
Irene did not remember her mother, and did not know why her father
looked so, and why the tears came in his eyes; but she put her arms
round his neck and kissed him, and asked no more questions.
The king was much disturbed on hearing the report of the
gentlemen-at-arms concerning the creatures they had seen; and I presume
would have taken Irene with him that very day, but for what the presence
of the ring on her finger assured him of. About an hour before he left,
Irene saw him go up the old stair; and he did not come down again till
they were just ready to start; and she thought with herself that he had
been up to see the old lady. When he went away, he left the other six
gentlemen behind him, that there might be six of them always on guard.
And now, in the lovely spring-weather, Irene was out on the mountain the
greater part of the day. In the warmer hollows there were lovely
primroses, and not so many that she ever got tired of them. As often as
she saw a new one opening an eye of light in the blind earth, she would
clap her hands with gladness, and, unlike some children I know, instead
of pulling it, would touch it as tenderly as if it had been a new baby,
and, having made its acquaintance, would leave it as happy as she found
it. She treated the plants on which they grew like birds' nests; every
fresh flower was like a new little bird to her. She would pay a visit to
all the flower-nests she knew, remembering each by itself. She would go
down on her hands and knees beside one and say "Good morning! Are you
all smelling very sweet this morning? Good-bye!" And then she would go
to another nest, and say the same. It was a favorite amusement with her.
There were many flowers up and down, and she loved them all, but the
primroses were her favorites.
"They're not too shy, and they're not a bit forward," she would say to
Lootie.
There were goats too about, over the mountain, and when the little kids
came, she was as pleased with them as with the flowers. The goats
belonged to the miners mostly--a few of them to Curdie's mother; but
there were a good many wild ones that seemed to belong to nobody. These
the goblins counted theirs, and it was upon them partly that they lived.
They set snares and dug pits for them; and did not scruple to take what
tame ones happened to be caught; but they did not try to steal them in
any other manner, because they were afraid of the dogs the hill-people
kept to watch them, for the knowing dogs always tried to bite their
feet. But the goblins had a kind of sheep of their own--very queer
creatures, which they drove out to feed at night, and the other
goblin-creatures were wise enough to keep good watch over them, for they
knew they should have their bones by and by.