An Enchanted Garden: Fairy Stories

Orona clenched her hands in rage; the King’s face sank into utter despair, for the Queen’s state was considered worse this morning.

“Alas, alas!” he cried, as he turned away, “it is hopeless.”

But among those who overheard his words was one who was not satisfied with feeling very sorry for the poor King.

This was a little mermaid named Chryssa. She was younger than Ila and Orona, and she was of far less exalted position; in fact, she was scarcely more than a little servant in the Queen’s household. And probably no one would have spoken of her as beautiful if asked to describe her. But she was beautiful, nevertheless, and wonderfully sweet and loving; and the living being she loved the most in the world was the Queen. Of course, like every one else, Chryssa had heard all about the quest of the rose which was to cure the Queen; and now the thought struck her, could she, unknown to any one, try in her turn to bring the earth-flower fresh and fragrant which alone would have magic power to save her royal mistress’s life? There seemed something lucky in being the third to try, “and, at least,” thought Chryssa, “it would be, so far as I am concerned, ‘the gift of love,’ as the poor Queen keeps murmuring.”

She determined to make the endeavour; and late that night, just for fear of being seen – though she was so insignificant a person that there was not much chance of her being missed – she set off. She was not by nature so strong or courageous as Ila and Orona; she knew very little, indeed, of anything but her own sea home, as she had been treated like a child, and had never heard the stories and descriptions of the world above, which were often related to entertain the Queen and her ladies. No wonder her poor little heart almost failed her through the long dark journey up to land. And at first when she reached the surface all was still as dark there as below. But as she lay there panting, almost doubting if she had done well to come, up above, over the land, there shone out a marvellous light, which at once filled her with hope and joy. It was the moon – slowly the silvery lamp glided out from behind the clouds, and the little mermaid almost cried aloud for joy.

“Oh, beautiful light,” she said, “thank you for coming. Show me what to do; I will follow your guidance,” and a gleaming streak across the water shone out as if inviting her to follow it.

Swiftly the mermaid swam in the direction of the land, full in the glow of the light; and a girl – an earth-maiden – standing at her window in the summer night thought that she saw a vision, and scarce knew if she were awake or dreaming.

“It is late,” she thought. “I must get to sleep or I shall be growing too fanciful.”

But before she lay down on her little bed she carefully unfastened a beautiful red rose which was pinned to her bodice and placed it in a glass of water, kissing it as she did so, for it was the first gift of her betrothed.

Poor Chryssa reached the shore; but though the moonlight still shone pale and pure and clear, it gave her no help. For the radiance was now spread all over the land; and before her there stretched a steep and rocky coast, beyond which – far off it looked to the mermaid – she could dimly see trees and bushes and some darker, harder form among them.

“It may be a house, such as the earth-folk live in,” she thought. “And there perhaps these flowers they call roses are growing. But how am I to get there? and how should I find the flower if I were there?”

Still she must try. Slowly and painfully she drew herself some little way up the shore, catching hold of the stones with her hands; then she stopped to rest, and set off again. It was really not very distant, but to poor Chryssa it seemed terrible: she could only go a few yards at a time without resting. The night was far gone, the dawn at hand, when the little mermaid, gasping and exhausted, her tender hands bruised and bleeding, sank for the last time, unable to drag herself any farther, on a grass plot just below the window whence the young girl had seen her in the moonlight like a vision, floating towards the shore.

Hebe, for so the maiden was called, woke early, and after glancing at her rose, threw open the window and leant out to watch the sunrise.

“How lovely it is,” she thought, “and how happy I am!” for her betrothal had only taken place the day before.

“Dear rose, I will keep you always – even when withered – always, till – ”

But a low sob or wail, just below the window, startled her. What could it be? Leaning farther out, she saw at first nothing but a long tangle of shining hair covering some unseen object, for Chryssa’s hair was like a golden cloak.

“What is it? Who is lying there?”

A faint voice answered —

“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.

And that was all that happened, till —

“You must be getting up, my dear; to-day you are going to the sea, remember,” sounded first by one little bedside and then by the other.

“Were we very late of coming in last night?” asked the children at breakfast.

“Not so very, I don’t think,” nurse replied. “But you see I can’t tell exactly, as I found you both undressed and in bed fast asleep when I came up from my supper. You did give me a surprise.”

Rafe and Alix looked at each other and smiled. Nurse thought it was only that they were pleased at the trick they had played her.

The seaside visit was delightful. But before it came to an end a very unexpected thing happened. The children’s father, who was a very clever man, was chosen for an important post out of England. It all came about in a great hurry, and Rafe and Alix have never since returned to the country house where, for most of the years of their life, they had been so happy. And all this time their home has been a long way off.

They often speak of Ladywood, and declare that when they come back to England they must go there and try to find the old caretaker again. But I almost hope they will not do so; for, I am sorry to say, Ladywood has been bought and all changed. A new house has been built at last on the site of the old one, and the foundations all opened out. I feel sure Mrs Caretaker is no longer there.

Still, there is no saying but that Rafe and Alix may come across her again some day and some where.

The End.