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Forafullmonththebusiness,forwhichIhadreturnedtoLondon,detainedmethere:andeventhenitwasonlytheurgentadviceofmyphysicianthatinducedmetoleaveitunfinishedandpayanothervisittoElveston.
Arthurhadwrittenonceortwiceduringthemonth;butinnoneofhisletterswasthereanymentionofLadyMuriel.
Still,Ididnotaugurillfromhissilence:tomeitlookedlikethenaturalactionofalover,who,evenwhilehisheartwassinging“Sheismine!”
,wouldfeartopainthishappinessinthecoldphrasesofawrittenletter,butwouldwaittotellitbywordofmouth.
“Yes,”Ithought,“Iamtohearhissongoftriumphfromhisownlips!”
ThenightIarrivedwehadmuchtosayonothermatters:and,tiredwiththejourney,Iwenttobedearly,leavingthehappysecretstilluntold.
Nextday,however,aswechattedonovertheremainsofluncheon,Iventuredtoputthemomentousquestion.
“Well,oldfriend,youhavetoldmenothingofLadyMuriel—norwhenthehappydayistobe?”
“Thehappyday,”Arthursaid,lookingunexpectedlygrave,“isyetinthedimfuture.
Weneedtoknow—or,rather,sheneedstoknowmebetter.
Iknowhersweetnature,thoroughly,bythistime.
ButIdarenotspeaktillIamsurethatmyloveisreturned.”
“Don’twaittoolong!”Isaidgaily.“Faintheartneverwonfairlady!”
“Itis‘faintheart,’perhaps.ButreallyIdarenotspeakjustyet.”
“Butmeanwhile,”Ipleaded,“youarerunningariskthatperhapsyouhavenotthoughtof.Someotherman—”
“No,”saidArthurfirmly.“Sheisheart-whole:Iamsureofthat.
Yet,ifshelovesanotherbetterthanme,sobeit!Iwillnotspoilherhappiness.Thesecretshalldiewithme.Butsheismyfirst—andmyonlylove!”
“Thatisallverybeautifulsentiment,”Isaid,“butitisnotpractical.Itisnotlikeyou.
Heeitherfearshisfatetoomuch,
Orhisdesertissmall,
Whodaresnotputittothetouch,
Towinorloseitall.”
“Idarenotaskthequestionwhetherthereisanother!”hesaidpassionately.“Itwouldbreakmyhearttoknowit!”
“Yetisitwisetoleaveitunasked?Youmustnotwasteyourlifeuponan‘if’!”
“ItellyouIdarenot!’,“MayIfinditoutforyou?”Iasked,withthefreedomofanoldfriend.
“No,no!”herepliedwithapainedlook.“Ientreatyoutosaynothing.Letitwait.”
“Asyouplease,”Isaid:andjudgeditbesttosaynomorejustthen.
“Butthisevening,”Ithought,“IwillcallontheEarl.
Imaybeabletoseehowthelandlies,withoutsomuchassayingaword!”
Itwasaveryhotafternoon—toohottogoforawalkordoanything—orelseitwouldn’thavehappened,Ibelieve.
Inthefirstplace,Iwanttoknow—dearChildwhoreadsthis!
—whyFairiesshouldalwaysbeteachingustodoourduty,andlecturinguswhenwegowrong,andweshouldneverteachthemanything?
Youcan’tmeantosaythatFairiesarenevergreedy,orselfish,orcross,ordeceitful,becausethatwouldbenonsense,youknow.
Wellthen,don’tyouthinktheymightbeallthebetterforalittlelecturingandpunishingnowandthen?
Ireallydon’tseewhyitshouldn’tbetried,andI’malmostsurethat,ifyoucouldonlycatchaFairy,andputitinthecorner,andgiveitnothingbutbreadandwaterforadayortwo,you’dfinditquiteanimprovedcharacter—itwouldtakedownitsconceitalittle,atallevents.
Thenextquestionis,whatisthebesttimeforseeingFairies?IbelieveIcantellyouallaboutthat.
Thefirstruleis,thatitmustbeaveryhotday—thatwemayconsiderassettled:andyoumustbejustalittlesleepy—butnottoosleepytokeepyoureyesopen,mind.
Well,andyououghttofeelalittle—whatonemaycall“fairyish“—theScotchcallit“eerie,”andperhapsthat’saprettierword;ifyoudon’tknowwhatitmeans,I’mafraidIcanhardlyexplainit;youmustwaittillyoumeetaFairy,andthenyou’llknow.
Andthelastruleis,thatthecricketsshouldnotbechirping.Ican’tstoptoexplainthat:youmusttakeitontrustforthepresent.
So,ifallthesethingshappentogether,youhaveagoodchanceofseeingaFairy—oratleastamuchbetterchancethaniftheydidn’t.
ThefirstthingInoticed,asIwentlazilyalongthroughanopenplaceinthewood,wasalargeBeetlelyingstrugglingonitsback,andIwentdownupononekneetohelpthepoorthingtoitsfeetagain.
Insomethings,youknow,youca’n’tbequitesurewhataninsectwouldlike:forinstance,Inevercouldquitesettle,supposingIwereamoth,whetherIwouldratherbekeptoutofthecandle,orbeallowedtoflystraightinandgetburnt—oragain,supposingIwereaspider,I’mnotsureifIshouldbequitepleasedtohavemywebtorndown,andtheflyletloose—butIfeelquitecertainthat,ifIwereabeetleandhadrolledoveronmyback,Ishouldalwaysbegladtobehelpedupagain.
So,asIwassaying,Ihadgonedownupononeknee,andwasjustreachingoutalittlesticktoturntheBeetleover,whenIsawasightthatmademedrawbackhastilyandholdmybreath,forfearofmakinganynoiseandfrighteningthelittlecreatureaway.
Notthatshelookedasifshewouldbeeasilyfrightened:sheseemedsogoodandgentlethatI’msureshewouldneverexpectthatanyonecouldwishtohurther.
Shewasonlyafewincheshigh,andwasdressedingreen,sothatyoureallywouldhardlyhavenoticedheramongthelonggrass;andshewassodelicateandgracefulthatshequiteseemedtobelongtotheplace,almostasifshewereoneoftheflowers.
Imaytellyou,besides,thatshehadnowings(Idon’tbelieveinFairieswithwings),andthatshehadquantitiesoflongbrownhairandlargeearnestbrowneyes,andthenIshallhavedoneallIcantogiveyouanideaofher.
Sylvie(Ifoundouthernameafterwards)hadkneltdown,justasIwasdoing,tohelptheBeetle;butitneededmorethanalittlestickforhertogetitonitslegsagain;itwasasmuchasshecoulddo,withbotharms,torolltheheavythingover;andallthewhileshewastalkingtoit,halfscoldingandhalfcomforting,asanursemightdowithachildthathadfallendown.
“There,there!Youneedn’tcrysomuchaboutit.
You’renotkilledyet—thoughifyouwere,youcouldn’tcry,youknow,andsoit’sageneralruleagainstcrying,mydear!Andhowdidyoucometotumbleover?
ButIcanseewellenoughhowitwas—Ineedn’taskyouthat—walkingoversand-pitswithyourchinintheair,asusual.
Ofcourseifyougoamongsand-pitslikethat,youmustexpecttotumble.Youshouldlook.”
TheBeetlemurmuredsomethingthatsoundedlike“Ididlook,”andSylviewentonagain.
“ButIknowyoudidn’t!Youneverdo!
Youalwayswalkwithyourchinup—you’resodreadfullyconceited.
Well,let’sseehowmanylegsarebrokenthistime.Why,noneofthem,Ideclare!
Andwhat’sthegoodofhavingsixlegs,mydear,ifyoucanonlykickthemallaboutintheairwhenyoutumble?Legsaremeanttowalkwith,youknow.
Nowdon’tbeginputtingoutyourwingsyet;I’vemoretosay.
Gotothefrogthatlivesbehindthatbuttercup—givehimmycompliments—Sylvie’scompliments—canyousaycompliments’?”
TheBeetletriedand,Isuppose,succeeded.
“Yes,that’sright.Andtellhimhe’stogiveyousomeofthatsalveIleftwithhimyesterday.Andyou’dbettergethimtorubitinforyou.He’sgotrathercoldhands,butyoumustn’tmindthat.”
IthinktheBeetlemusthaveshudderedatthisidea,forSylviewentoninagravertone.
“Nowyouneedn’tpretendtobesoparticularasallthat,asifyouweretoograndtoberubbedbyafrog.
Thefactis,yououghttobeverymuchobligedtohim.
Supposeyoucouldgetnobodybutatoadtodoit,howwouldyoulikethat?”
Therewasalittlepause,andthenSylvieadded“Nowyoumaygo.
Beagoodbeetle,anddon’tkeepyourchinintheair.”
Andthenbeganoneofthoseperformancesofhumming,andwhizzing,andrestlessbangingabout,suchasabeetleindulgesinwhenithasdecidedonflying,buthasn’tquitemadeupitsmindwhichwaytogo.
Atlast,inoneofitsawkwardzigzags,itmanagedtoflyrightintomyface,and,bythetimeIhadrecoveredfromtheshock,thelittleFairywasgone.
Ilookedaboutinalldirectionsforthelittlecreature,buttherewasnotraceofher—andmy‘eerie’feelingwasquitegoneoff,andthecricketswerechirpingagainmerrily—soIknewshewasreallygone.
AndnowI’vegottimetotellyoutheruleaboutthecrickets.
TheyalwaysleaveoffchirpingwhenaFairygoesby—becauseaFairy’sakindofqueenoverthem,Isuppose—atalleventsit’samuchgranderthingthanacricket—sowheneveryou’rewalkingout,andthecricketssuddenlyleaveoffchirping,youmaybesurethattheyseeaFairy.
Iwalkedonsadlyenough,youmaybesure.
However,Icomfortedmyselfwiththinking“It’sbeenaverywonderfulafternoon,sofar.
I’lljustgoquietlyonandlookaboutme,andIshouldn’twonderifIweretocomeacrossanotherFairysomewhere.”
Peeringaboutinthisway,Ihappenedtonoticeaplantwithroundedleaves,andwithqueerlittleholescutinthemiddleofseveralofthem.“Ah,theleafcutterbee!”
Icarelesslyremarked—youknowIamverylearnedinNaturalHistory(forinstance,Icanalwaystellkittensfromchickensatoneglance)—andIwaspassingon,whenasuddenthoughtmademestoopdownandexaminetheleaves.
Thenalittlethrillofdelightranthroughme—forInoticedthattheholeswereallarrangedsoastoformletters;therewerethreeleavessidebyside,with“B,”“R,”and“U”markedonthem,andaftersomesearchIfoundtwomore,whichcontainedan“N”andan“O.”
Andthen,allinamoment,aflashofinnerlightseemedtoillumineapartofmylifethathadallbutfadedintooblivion—thestrangevisionsIhadexperiencedduringmyjourneytoElveston:andwithathrillofdelightIthought“Thosevisionsaredestinedtobelinkedwithmywakinglife!”
Bythistimethe‘eerie’feelinghadcomebackagain,andIsuddenlyobservedthatnocricketswerechirping;soIfeltquitesurethat“Brunowassomewhereverynear.
Andsoindeedhewas—sonearthatIhadverynearlywalkedoverhimwithoutseeinghim;whichwouldhavebeendreadful,alwayssupposingthatFairiescanbewalkedovermyownbeliefisthattheyaresomethingofthenatureofWill-o’-the-wisps:andthere’snowalkingoverthem.
Thinkofanyprettylittleboyyouknow,withrosycheeks,largedarkeyes,andtangledbrownhair,andthenfancyhimmadesmallenoughtogocomfortablyintoacoffee-cup,andyou’llhaveaveryfairideaofhim.
“What’syourname,littleone?”Ibegan,inassoftavoiceasIcouldmanage.
And,bytheway,whyisitwealwaysbeginbyaskinglittlechildrentheirnames?
Isitbecausewefancyanamewillhelptomakethemalittlebigger?
Youneverthoughtofaskingareallargemanhisname,now,didyou?
But,howeverthatmaybe,Ifeltitquitenecessarytoknowhisname;so,ashedidn’tanswermyquestion,Iaskeditagainalittlelouder.“What’syourname,mylittleman?”
“What’soors?”hesaid,withoutlookingup.
Itoldhimmynamequitegently,forhewasmuchtoosmalltobeangrywith.
“DukeofAnything?”heasked,justlookingatmeforamoment,andthengoingonwithhiswork.
“NotDukeatall,”Isaid,alittleashamedofhavingtoconfessit.
“Oo’rebigenoughtobetwoDukes,”saidthelittlecreature.“Isupposeoo’reSirSomething,then?”
“No,”Isaid,feelingmoreandmoreashamed.“Ihaven’tgotanytitle.”
TheFairyseemedtothinkthatinthatcaseIreallywasn’tworththetroubleoftalkingto,forhequietlywentondigging,andtearingtheflowerstopieces.
AfterafewminutesItriedagain.“Pleasetellmewhatyournameis.”
“Bruno,”thelittlefellowanswered,veryreadily.“Whydidn’toosay‘please’before?”
“That’ssomethinglikewhatweusedtobetaughtinthenursery,”Ithoughttomyself,lookingbackthroughthelongyears(aboutahundredofthem,sinceyouaskthequestion),tothetimewhenIwasalittlechild.
Andhereanideacameintomyhead,andIaskedhim“Aren’tyouoneoftheFairiesthatteachchildrentobegood?”
“Well,wehavetodothatsometimes,”saidBruno,“andadreadfulbotheritis.”Ashesaidthis,hesavagelytoreaheartseaseintwo,andtrampledonthepieces.
“Whatareyoudoingthere,Bruno?”Isaid.
“SpoilingSylvie’sgarden,”wasalltheanswerBrunowouldgiveatfirst.
But,ashewentontearinguptheflowers,hemutteredtohimself“Thenastycrossthingwouldn’tletmegoandplaythismorning,—saidImustfinishmylessonsfirst—lessons,indeed!I’llvexherfinely,though!”
“Oh,Bruno,youshouldn’tdothat!”Icried.
“Don’tyouknowthat’srevenge?Andrevengeisawicked,cruel,dangerousthing!”
“River-edge?”saidBruno.“Whatafunnyword!Isupposeoocallitcruelanddangerous‘cause,ifoowentedtoofarandtumblededin,oo’dgetdrownded.”
“No,notriver-edge,”Iexplained:“revenge”(sayingthewordveryslowly).ButIcouldn’thelpthinkingthatBruno’sexplanationdidverywellforeitherword.
“Oh!”saidBruno,openinghiseyesverywide,butwithouttryingtorepeattheword.
“Come!Tryandpronounceit,Bruno!”Isaid,cheerfully.“Re-venge,re-venge.”
ButBrunoonlytossedhislittlehead,andsaidhecouldn’t;thathismouthwasn’ttherightshapeforwordsofthatkind.AndthemoreIlaughed,themoresulkythelittlefellowgotaboutit.
“Well,nevermind,mylittleman!”Isaid.
“ShallIhelpyouwiththatjob?”
“Yes,please,”Brunosaid,quitepacified.
“OnlyIwissIcouldthinkofsomefintovexhermorethanthis.Oodon’tknowhowharditistomakeherangry!”
“Nowlistentome,Bruno,andI’llteachyouquiteasplendidkindofrevenge!”
“Somefinthat’llvexherfinely?”heaskedwithgleamingeyes.
“Somethingthatwillvexherfinely.First,we’llgetupalltheweedsinhergarden.See,thereareagoodmanyatthisendquitehidingtheflowers.”
“Butthatwon’tvexher!”saidBruno.
“Afterthat,”Isaid,withoutnoticingtheremark,“we’llwaterthishighestbed—uphere.Youseeit’sgettingquitedryanddusty.”
Brunolookedatmeinquisitively,buthesaidnothingthistime.
“Thenafterthat,”Iwenton,“thewalkswantsweepingabit;andIthinkyoumightcutdownthattallnettle—it’ssoclosetothegardenthatit’squiteintheway—”
“Whatisootalkingabout?”Brunoimpatientlyinterruptedme.“Allthatwon’tvexherabit!”
“Won’tit?”Isaid,innocently.
“Then,afterthat,supposeweputinsomeofthesecolouredpebbles—justtomarkthedivisionsbetweenthedifferentkindsofflowers,youknow.That’llhaveaveryprettyeffect.”
Brunoturnedroundandhadanothergoodstareatme.
Atlasttherecameanoddlittletwinkleintohiseyes,andhesaid,withquiteanewmeaninginhisvoice,“That’lldonicely.
Let’sput‘eminrows—alltheredtogether,andallthebluetogether.“
“That’lldocapitally,”Isaid;“andthen—whatkindofflowersdoesSylvielikebest?”
Brunohadtoputhisthumbinhismouthandconsideralittlebeforehecouldanswer.“Violets,”hesaid,atlast.
“There’sabeautifulbedofvioletsdownbythebrook—”
“Oh,let’sfetch‘em!”criedBruno,givingalittleskipintotheair.“Here!Catchholdofmyhand,andI’llhelpooalong.Thegrassisratherthickdownthatway.”
Icouldn’thelplaughingathishavingsoentirelyforgottenwhatabigcreaturehewastalkingto.
“No,notyet,Bruno,”Isaid:“wemustconsiderwhat’stherightthingtodofirst.
Youseewe’vegotquiteabusinessbeforeus.”
“Yes,let’sconsider,”saidBruno,puttinghisthumbintohismouthagain,andsittingdownuponadeadmouse.
“Whatdoyoukeepthatmousefor?”Isaid.“Youshouldeitherburyit,orelsethrowitintothebrook.”
“Why,it’stomeasurewith!”criedBruno.
“Howeverwouldoodoagardenwithoutone?Wemakeeachbedthreemousesandahalflong,andtwomouseswide.”
Istoppedhim,ashewasdraggingitoffbythetailtoshowmehowitwasused,forIwashalfafraidthe‘eerie’feelingmightgooffbeforewehadfinishedthegarden,andinthatcaseIshouldseenomoreofhimorSylvie.
“Ithinkthebestwaywillbeforyoutoweedthebeds,whileIsortoutthesepebbles,readytomarkthewalkswith.”
“That’sit!”criedBruno.“AndI’lltellooaboutthecaterpillarswhilewework.”
“Ah,let’shearaboutthecaterpillars,”Isaid,asIdrewthepebblestogetherintoaheapandbegandividingthemintocolours.
AndBrunowentoninalow,rapidtone,moreasifheweretalkingtohimself.
“YesterdayIsawtwolittlecaterpillars,whenIwassittingbythebrook,justwhereoogointothewood.
Theywerequitegreen,andtheyhadyelloweyes,andtheydidn’tseeme.
Andoneofthemhadgotamoth’swingtocarry—agreatbrownmoth’swing,ooknow,alldry,withfeathers.
Sohecouldn’twantittoeat,Ishouldthink—perhapshemeanttomakeacloakforthewinter?”
“Perhaps,”Isaid,forBrunohadtwistedupthelastwordintoasortofquestion,andwaslookingatmeforananswer.
Onewordwasquiteenoughforthelittlefellow,andhewentonmerrily.
“Well,andsohedidn’twanttheothercaterpillartoseethemoth’swing,ooknow—sowhatmusthedobuttrytocarryitwithallhisleftlegs,andhetriedtowalkontheotherset.Ofcoursehetoppledoverafterthat.”
“Afterwhat?”Isaid,catchingatthelastword,for,totellthetruth,Ihadn’tbeenattendingmuch.
“Hetoppledover,”Brunorepeated,verygravely,“andifooeversawacaterpillartoppleover,oo’dknowit’sawellyseriousthing,andnotsitgrinninglikethat—andIsha’n’ttelloonomore!”
“Indeedandindeed,Bruno,Ididn’tmeantogrin.See,I’mquitegraveagainnow.”
ButBrunoonlyfoldedhisarms,andsaid“Don’ttellme.Iseealittletwinkleinoneofooreyes—justlikethemoon.”
“WhydoyouthinkI’mlikethemoon,Bruno?”Iasked.
“Oorfaceislargeandroundlikethemoon,”Brunoanswered,lookingatmethoughtfully.“Itdoosn’tshinequitesobright—butit’smorecleaner.”
Icouldn’thelpsmilingatthis.“YouknowIsometimeswashmyface,Bruno.Themoonneverdoesthat.”
“Oh,doosn’tshethough!”criedBruno;andheleantforwardsandaddedinasolemnwhisper,“Themoon’sfacegetsdirtieranddirtiereverynight,tillit’sblackallacross.
Andthen,whenit’sdirtyallover—so—”(hepassedhishandacrosshisownrosycheeksashespoke)“thenshewashesit.”
“Thenit’sallcleanagain,isn’tit?”
“Notallinamoment,”saidBruno.“Whatadealofteachingoowants!Shewashesitlittlebylittle—onlyshebeginsattheotheredge,ooknow.”
Bythistimehewassittingquietlyonthedeadmousewithhisarmsfolded,andtheweedingwasn’tgettingonabit:soIhadtosay“Workfirst,pleasureafterwards:nomoretalkingtillthatbed’sfinished.”
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