Fairy Circles Part 3

Vreneli blushed, and cast a stolen glance at Tony, who stood behind his father; she could not but think of the reward which he had promised her. She a.s.sured the farmer that she would do her duty, shook hands with the whole household, and then turned to follow the herds.

Tony went with her; he wanted to show her everything in the senner's cottage, and to point out the richest pastures on which the herds were to graze, taking a different place each day, till at last they returned to the first, which by that time would be covered with a fresh growth of gra.s.s.

It was a lovely spring morning. The distant glacier was radiant with sunlight, the bells tinkled softly on the necks of the cattle, and wild flowers bloomed at the edge of the torrent which rushed foaming over the moss-grown rocks. But what was all this external beauty in comparison with the blooming world in their own hearts?

They exchanged looks, and words, and happy smiles. Not till the herds had been milked and led to rest on the night pasture did Tony say good-bye. Vreneli stood at the door of the cottage, her hands clasped, and her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with happy tears, and watched him till a turn of the road hid him from her view.

Inside, in the cosy cottage, it seemed to her, all the time that she was filling the milk vessels and putting everything in order, as if she still heard his caressing words, and as if his brown eyes looked out on her from every corner. Love and hope quickened her hands, so that her work seemed mere child's play. Then when everything was done, and the fire had died out on the hearth, she stepped out again to the door.

Like a faithful senner she looked first at the night pasture where the herds were resting peacefully. Now and then one of the beautiful animals would lift its head, and the bell at its throat would tinkle softly; the night-wind moved gently among the lofty trees, making the long moss of their stems wave to and fro like dark soft veils. Then Vreneli's eyes sought the valley, and to the moonbeams which hastened, in their glittering robes, down the rocky path to the village she entrusted tender messages of love. And when she turned back into the cottage she knelt at her mossy couch beside the hearth, and mingled with her evening prayer words of joyful thanksgiving. Her last thought before she fell asleep was this, that she was the happiest herdswoman and her Tony the handsomest and truest fellow in the whole land of the Tyrol.

Sunny days succeeded to nights filled with golden dreams. When the first sunbeams flashed from the summit of the glacier, the goat-bells sounded below in the valley, and the goat-herd led his flock to seek the juicy plants that grew on heights inaccessible to less sure-footed herds.

Then Vreneli ran joyfully to meet him, for he always brought some message from Tony, or some other token of his love. With joy-quickened energy she went then about her daily toil. The cows left their nightly resting-place, and came to Vreneli to be milked, and then she led them to some new pasture.

And while the cattle grazed there, she leant against a rock and carefully watched each step of the animals entrusted to her care, lest any one of them should go too near a precipice, or, enticed by the plants that grew most richly beside the torrent, be hurried away in its mad whirl. And when evening sank on the mountain, and clothed the ice-columns in a splendour of red and purple, the goat-herd led his flock back to the valley, and received every evening from Vreneli's hand a bunch of mountain violets for her beloved Tony.

Then she drove the cows again to the milking-place, and repeated the task of the morning. But this did not end her day's work. She was busy for hours in the cottage, and moon and stars had long looked down on the slumbering mountain before Vreneli had finished arranging her milk vessels in the dairy, or placed the newly-made cheese to dry, or rolled out her golden b.u.t.ter-pats.

Then after a simple prayer she lay down on her lowly couch, and when the distant thunder of avalanches broke the silence of the night, and the mountain torrent roared close behind her tiny cottage, Vreneli slept as sweetly as a child, and round her head dreams of love and home hovered on golden wing.

So the weeks flew by, and the day arrived when the b.u.t.ter and cheese which the mountain farm had hitherto produced was to be taken home to the farm-house. The farmer and Tony were to come to bring it, as the goat-herd had told Vreneli yesterday, and her usually dexterous fingers trembled with glad excitement just when it was most needful to show the farmer that he had entrusted his property to capable hands.

At last--how often she had looked impatiently along the path--at last the old farmer came toiling up, and behind him, not Tony, as she expected, but two servants with tall baskets on their backs.

Vreneli was bitterly disappointed, but she controlled herself and walked out calmly to meet her master. In spite of the sunny morning dark clouds lay upon his brow, and it did not clear even when Vreneli took him into the faultless dairy and showed him the rows of large rich cheese and the golden b.u.t.ter. Silently they were laid in the basket, and the servants returned homewards with heavy burdens.

Then Vreneli led the farmer to the meadow where the herds were grazing, and his keen eye told him that the beasts were well fed and cared for. It was a faithful hand to which he had entrusted his property--_that_ he must acknowledge, however unwillingly. "You have done well, Vreneli; see that you go on as you have begun!" he said bluntly. How harsh the words sounded compared with those with which he had sent her to the mountain! Then when he turned to go home, and she politely begged him to taste the fritter that she had prepared for him according to the custom of the country, he refused it, looking all the time so gloomy that Vreneli did not dare to ask for Tony, though her heart throbbed in anxiety and longing. So he left her, and Vreneli stood watching him with a heart full of sadness and disappointment.

It was evening, and the firelight fell as brightly as ever on Vreneli's lovely face, but it did not show the joyous expression of other evenings. Her movements were languid, and now and then a tear stole down her cheek.

Why did not Tony come, as he had said he would? Why was the old farmer so gloomy? Why did the goat-herd refuse to take the daily bunch of violets, in return for which she might have hoped for some message from Tony? These were questions on which her life's happiness depended, and yet there was no one there to answer them.

She sighed deeply. There had been a gentle knocking at the door, which Vreneli, lost in her sad thoughts, had not noticed; but at her loud sigh the door opened, and a figure of mysterious aspect stood on the threshold. Long silvery hair flowed down over the shoulders, and from the serious yet kindly eyes spoke a majesty which diadem and purple robes would not have been enough to give. Vreneli let fall the milk bowl in her astonishment, and she bowed low as to a mighty prince; then she wiped the low bench before the fire, the only seat which the simple cottage offered, and asked her strange guest to be seated.

The old man nodded pleasantly, and sat down at the fire, leant his head on both hands, so that his silvery locks flowed almost to the ground, and directed his earnest gaze so searchingly on Vreneli that it seemed to her as if he could see into her very soul.

"Why art thou so sad to-day, Vreneli?" he said at last very gently.

Vreneli started. How did this stranger, who seemed to come from some distant land--how could he know her name? She looked at him, half in reverence and half in fear. "Come, Vreneli, wilt thou not tell me?"

said the old man, and his eye rested almost with love upon her face.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KING LAURIN IN VRENELI'S COTTAGE.]

"I am an orphan," she faltered out at last, "and sometimes a painful feeling of loneliness comes over me."

"And is that all, Vreneli?" asked the old man; "canst thou not confide in one who means well towards thee, and who has both the power and the desire to help thee? Dost thou think thyself unknown to me?

Did I not see thee on the mountain side beneath the cross? Did I not hear the young man's oath, and see how love and hope had driven sorrow from thy heart? From that hour I have been thy friend. Dost thou think that thy care and watchfulness could have kept the dangers of the mountains far from thy roof and from thy herds? When thou wast asleep on thy couch of moss, and fair dreams led thy soul to golden meadows, I kept watch up there upon the rock, and warned the elements to leave thee and thy charge unhurt; I directed the course of the avalanches, and the flight of the snow-storm, so that they turned aside, and only softest breezes and the gentle starlight ever touched thy brow. Dost thou still mistrust me, Vreneli?"

Vreneli had clasped her hands and drawn nearer to her venerable friend.

"I thank you for your protection," said she, bowing once more in lowly reverence; "whoever you may be, to me you have been a benefactor, and such a one has a right to my confidence. But tell me how you read my heart and learned my love for Tony? For you know already what its burden is. I am troubled about what has happened to-day; I cannot understand it. Above all, I am disappointed at not having seen Tony, after I had looked forward so joyfully to meeting him."

The old man cast a searching glance on her lovely face, as she stood there with the firelight falling brightly on her, and her blue eyes turned towards him in sorrow and touching confidence.

"And wouldst thou like to see him now?" he asked gravely.

Vreneli's eyes shone with delight.

"But, Vreneli, the fulfilment of our wishes often brings something quite different from our hopes; we go to seek faithfulness, and we find treachery."

"Ah!" said she, with the smile of unshaken trust, "that will not be the case with me. Tony is good and truer than gold, and did he not swear to me beneath the cross?"

"Thou dear child!" answered the old man, while painful memories troubled his grave features; "if every broken oath could make a step, we would soon be able to reach the moon."

"Stranger," said Vreneli, confidently, "you may have met with faithlessness enough in your long life to make you lose your confidence in human nature, but you do not know my Tony!"

"Come then, Vreneli, since thou wishest it," said the old man, rising, "though I would fain have spared thee this pain." And they stepped out together into the night.

Led by the old man's hand, Vreneli climbed up to the point of rock from which he had kept nightly watch over her and her herds. They went forward to the edge of the precipice. Far below, veiled by the darkness, lay Tony's home. High walls of rock and wide pasture-lands separated them from the farm-house, so that no human eye could pierce the distance.

But the old man pulled down a branch of the lofty pine above them, and told Vreneli to look through a tiny knot-hole. She did so; the laws of s.p.a.ce yielded, and her anxious glance flew to the distant farm-house.

She looked through the lighted windows into the well-furnished rooms.

All the costly vessels and ornaments, which were usually carefully laid past in chests and cupboards, were to-day displayed on the festive board, round which the most distinguished residents of the village were chatting and laughing merrily. Next his parents sat Tony, and at his side a richly dressed maiden. His eyes shone, and his mouth smiled and whispered, just as on that evening when he had sworn love and faithfulness to Vreneli beneath the cross on the mountain. His father's threatening words and the wealth of the bride so long chosen for him had quickly shaken Tony's purpose, and while the gentle Vreneli was thinking anxiously about his non-appearance, the fickle youth broke his solemn oath, and betrothed himself to the unloved but wealthy bride.

Vreneli looked at the scene in tearless silence, then, when she could no longer doubt her lover's faithlessness, she let go the branch and turned her eyes away, so that once more night and distance covered the scene that had ruined her hopes. Vreneli silently descended the rock, but she did not seek the shelter of her cottage. She hurried past it, and wandered on aimlessly over the wilds of the mountain. It seemed almost as if she wished to reach the icy glacier heights.

"Vreneli," said the voice at her side; "Vreneli, whither wilt thou go?" She turned her head as in a dream. Stony sorrow had fallen on her gentle features, and her once bright eyes were cold and fixed.

"Whither?" she said quietly, "whither? I would like to go to the grave, but, since that may not be, I will go at least away, away as far as my feet will bear me."

"Wilt thou come with me, Vreneli?" said the old man. "My home shall be thine, and the love and faithfulness which thou hast lost here thou shalt find there a thousand-fold."

Vreneli looked into his mild eyes.

"And who art thou, kind old man?" she asked with faltering voice.

"I am King Laurin, the ruler of the powerful nation of the dwarfs, who for centuries were bound to men in faithful love. The impress of divinity which we spirits recognised in you, and before which we humbly bow, attracted us to your race. But in every generation we traced it less easily, and at last, despised and deceived in return for our kindness and help, we retired to the recesses of our mountains. There in the heart of the rock whose brow is crowned by the s.h.i.+ning glacier, there stands my palace, adorned by my people with all the splendour of the precious stones which, hidden to mortal eyes, s.h.i.+ne deep down in the heart of the earth.

"There I live, but I have led for centuries a lonely life, for my only daughter, the last flower of a blooming garland, died long, long ago.

Her rose-garden, to tend which was her greatest delight, still blooms in unfading beauty, but as often as my eyes fall on its wondrous flowers, I think with grief of my long-lost child. Thou, Vreneli, art a pure-hearted maiden like her, and since I first saw thee and looked into thine eyes, it has seemed to me as if I had found my child. I have watched over thee with a father's care, and I am ready now to love thee as my daughter."

"Poor lonely king!" said Vreneli, in a tone of gentle pity, while the tears ran down her cheeks, "I will go with you to your mountain palace; I will love and honour you as your child once did, and I will tend the rose-garden that she loved; for I have no home and no heart to love me. But grant me one thing before I leave the sunlight."

"Thou hast but to ask and it is granted!"

"Ah, King Laurin!" said Vreneli, and her tears flowed faster, "I am still young, and this is the first disappointment that my heart has felt, and though it is almost broken, yet I have still a faint hope left. I cannot quite let go my faith in Tony."