The Heirs on their Travels.
“O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few inquires.
“And see ye not that braid, braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.
“And see ye not that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elf-land,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.”
Thomas the Rhymer.
123
CHAPTER V.

How is it that the faithful hound succeeds in finding his way back to his master’s house, from a distance of many miles, and through a country which he has never been permitted to see? How is it that the carrier-pigeon, when loosed from the bag in which it has been confined, mounts up into the air, makes one brief circuit, and then pursues his way, through an unknown region, in a straight 124line homeward? Mysteries these, which the more we attempt to investigate them, the more do they bewilder us, and, in the attempt to elucidate which, the learned and the ignorant are alike at fault.

However, our daily experience of the fact that such things are, at once removes any antecedent improbability which might otherwise suggest itself to the sceptical, when it is mentioned that Witikind, though transformed into a hare, found little difficulty in discovering his route to Taubennest. Had he been even a hare only, his instinct would probably have guided him in the right direction; but being a sharp-witted boy, as well as a hare, there seems little cause for wonder in the matter. The circumstance most worthy of remark is, that he should have performed his journey of many hundred miles in the course of a single night. The spells of the Lady Abracadabra had secured him from the perils of huntsmen and hounds; but how had she bestowed upon him such marvellous speed 125of foot? The sun was setting, as we know, when the son of Count Rudolf received his unexpected dismissal from the Court of King Katzekopf: ere the moon had risen, the towers and cupolas of the city scarce broke the line of the distant horizon: by midnight, a distance which, to the ordinary traveller, would have been equivalent to a six-days’ journey, had been mastered, and when the chilliness of the first grey dawn refreshed the heated frame of the breathless quadruped, the giant forms of his own loved mountains were looming dim and indistinct in the shadowy distance. What was it that gave to Witikind the speed of the winged wind? Was it solely the boon of his patroness? or was it not the magic of deep affection,—of filial and fraternal love, and the spells of home—which infused into his tender frame a vigour with which even the supernatural gifts of Fairy-land would have been unable to inspire him?
“Over the mountains,
And over the waves,
126Under the fountains,
And under the graves;
Over floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey;
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.
“Where there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie;
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
Where the midge dares not venture,
Lest herself fast she lay;
If Love come, he will enter,
And soon find out his way.”

And thus it was that Love urged Witikind on his way, and inspired him to task to the uttermost the extraordinary powers with which he had been endowed. No loiterer, nor lingerer was he; “he stay’d not for brake, and he stopp’d not for stone,” till the turrets of his happy home at Taubennest caught his eyes, glittering in the brightness of the morning sun.

But Taubennest, whatever it might be in his imagination, had scarce deserved the name 127of happy Taubennest, since the day he quitted it. It was not that his sisters had not had many a pleasant walk, and played at many a merry game together, during his absence. It was not that no smiles had ever lightened his mother’s brow of care. Things had gone on much in their usual course; a year (for it was no more) of separation had not wrought many obvious changes, save that Count Rudolf’s health was declining; disappointed hopes, and ungratified ambition are worse diseases than fever or consumption, and they were wearing his life away. Countess Ermengarde had spent many days in calm content, and in active usefulness, and these things bring their reward of peace with them. The little girls had not lost the gaiety of disposition which is natural to their years, and their minds were in a process of training, which is sure to produce a happy temper. So Taubennest seemed to the friends of the family the same bright joyous scene as ever.

And yet they who watched closely, would 128see a tear falling at times, from the mother’s eye, or mark that now and then an involuntary sigh would escape from her. And they who looked for it might observe, that ever and anon some game was laid aside by the children, because two felt that they could find no pleasure in it, when the third, who had been used to join in it, was absent. And walks were chosen, because they had been favourites with some one who was no longer of the party. And every thing that awakened an association of this description was most dearly prized. Surely they did not err who deemed that at such seasons Witikind was foremost in his mother’s and his sisters’ thoughts.

“I wonder,” said Veronica to Ediltrudis, “whether we shall find the rosebud blown this morning. Mamma said she thought it would not be out for three days. What a pity he planted such a late-flowering rose in his garden. It would have been such a nice present for Mamma on his birthday.”

“Dear Witikind!” exclaimed Ediltrudis, 129“how few besides himself would ever have thought of such a delicate attention to Mamma, as his choice of that tree involved! ‘What kind of rose shall we plant against the trellis which surrounds your garden?’ asked the gardener. ‘Shall it be the blush-moss from Candahar? it is the choicest rose grown; but I have a promise of one for you, if you wish it.’ ‘No, Florian, that will not suit me, unless it be the latest, as well as the choicest rose that grows. I do not care for a rose that I can gather when roses are in plenty; you must find one for me that will be in flower when all others are gone. You know how the Countess loves flowers. I want to be able to provide her with a nosegay, when nobody else can do so.’”

“Ah!” replied Veronica, “that was just like Witikind. A more affectionate heart than his never beat. How I hope we shall find one of his buds in flower! It is quite too soon to expect it; but that was a chance cluster which we observed yesterday, and, 130perhaps, one of the buds may be far enough advanced by this time. If it be open ever so little, I would gather it for Mamma.”

“How I wish some good Fairy would touch the buds with her wand, and provide us each with a full-blown rose; one for Mamma; one for you; and one for me.”

“Nay,” said Veronica, “I shall be satisfied if only a few petals of that single bud be open. I shall hail it as a good omen that we shall have Witikind himself among us before the year is over.”

“What a fanciful notion!” answered Ediltrudis, laughing. “There is no end to your romantic imaginations. Now, I confess that, for my part, I shall be quite surprised if I find that——why look here!” she suddenly exclaimed, as, being a little in advance of her sister, she caught the first glimpse of the rose-tree. “Look here, Veronica; make haste, make haste, a Fairy must have been here.”

“How very extraordinary!” cried the child, running up. “Four full-blown roses on this 131cluster! And yet, when we were here yesterday, there was but one bud at all advanced, and the others were tiny, tiny things, which I thought would not be in bloom for months to come! You may say what you will, Ediltrudis, but this must be a good omen. There is not only a rose for Mamma, and for each of us, but one for Papa likewise.”

“You forget that Papa does not care for flowers.”

“Ah, poor Papa, the smell is too strong for his head now; but, perhaps, he would not dislike a rose if he knew it was gathered from Witikind’s tree.”

Ediltrudis shook her head.

“But what if it should be for Witikind himself?” cried Veronica with eagerness, as so pleasant a thought struck her. “Depend upon it, this is a token that Witikind will be here before long, to gather his own roses!”

“I hope you don’t mean to leave these ungathered till he comes. Why, if you don’t cut them now, they will shed their leaves with 132the noon-day heat. You are not hesitating about gathering them, surely, Veronica?”

“Why I don’t know what to think,” replied Veronica doubtfully. “Suppose we wait till we come in from our walk.”

“Nonsense!” said Ediltrudis; “lend me your knife, and let us carry them in to Mamma at once.”

“Very well,” answered Veronica; “only let me tie up this clove-gilliflower first. How sadly,” she continued, “its leaves have been eaten. I wish we could keep those tiresome hares out.”

“It won’t be easy to do that while they are as bold as they are at present. See there! there is one coming now to the bed, though we are standing here. I wonder what people mean by talking of timid hares. I am sure here they are as bold as lions. Sh! sh! get away with you!” cried Ediltrudis, clapping her hands, and making a noise which was likely to have put any ordinary hare to flight.

133But the little animal made no attempt to retrace his steps.

“Sh! sh!” cried Ediltrudis once more; and taking up a pebble, made as though she was about to throw it.

“Nay,” said Veronica, “do not hurt it. See how weary the poor creature looks; how faint and breathless; and how soiled is its fur! It has been hunted, and has fled here for succour. Come here, poor thing. I will protect you!”

The animal approached Veronica, and crouched at her feet. “Get some water, Ediltrudis! it is going to die; I am sure it is; its eyes look so dim and glassy.”

Ediltrudis ran to a fountain close at hand, and brought some water in a shell which lay at its side. Veronica stooped down to place the water within reach of the exhausted animal, and, as she did so, she was about to pat it gently; but no sooner did her hand light upon its head, than a shock like that from an electric battery, ran through her frame, and 134made her start violently. Before she could recover herself, the hare had disappeared, and Witikind was in his sisters’ arms.

For a time, the children were too much overwhelmed with terror and amazement, to be able to speak. Veronica would have fainted, but for the timely supply of water which was close at hand; and even when she came to herself, she could not persuade herself that she was not dreaming. But there was something too hearty in the embraces of Witikind, and his kisses were altogether too vehement to have come from Dreamland. Briefly, but clearly, he made them acquainted with the events which had befallen him, and when, by degrees, they began to comprehend the reality of what they saw, he sent them into the castle, to prepare the Countess for his arrival.

Poor children! it was an arduous task. The excess of their joy made them as timid and afraid to speak, as excess of sorrow might have done. However, the roses helped them, 135and, as it were, prepared the mother’s mind for some unexpected intelligence of her boy; for, in those days, people thought more about the unseen world, and the interference of spiritual beings in men’s affairs, than they do now. And so, at length, the Countess Ermengarde, and the other inhabitants of Taubennest, were brought to understand that Witikind was once more among them.

Oh! how vain it were to attempt to describe the scene which then ensued!—
“Eager steps the threshold pressing;
Open’d arms in haste advancing;
Joyful looks through blind tears glancing;
The gladsome bounding of his aged hound,
Say he in truth is here! our long, long lost is found.”

The reader’s imagination must delineate to him the ecstatic joy of that meeting; how embrace followed embrace, and a thousand questions were put to him, ere Witikind had time to answer ten: how Count Rudolf, having first forgotten his ambitious schemes, 136in the joy of seeing his son, soon began to express his belief that the Lady Abracadabra had mismanaged things shockingly; that she was a Fairy without either talent or discrimination; that she ought not to have allowed the boy to quit the palace till she had secured a handsome pension for him; and that it was quite inexcusable of her to allow a child of Witikind’s high rank to return home in the form of a hare, and to be liable to be barked at by every village cur; how Witikind poured forth his regrets that he had ever been selfish enough to desire to leave his home; how ardently he hoped that all he had gone through had cured him of some of his worst faults; how useful a lesson he had been taught; how truly he appreciated the blessing of a home; and how earnestly he trusted that his future life would be spent in doing good to his neighbours and dependants at Taubennest.

“I have seen enough,” said he, “young as I am, to cure me of ambition. I would rather pass my days in retirement here, striving to 137benefit those among whom I dwell, and to repay, so far as I can, my dear parents’ care of me, than have the highest place and the highest honours, in the greatest kingdom in the universe.”

“Wait a few years, and we shall see!” said Count Rudolf.

“May Heaven strengthen you to keep to such a determination, my dearest Witikind,” exclaimed the Countess Ermengarde. “The Fairy has proved herself a true friend to us, by giving you an opportunity of learning, by your own experience, to estimate, at their proper value, those things which are so commonly looked on as advantages, and which the world so earnestly covets. How I long to express my thanks to our kind patroness! How earnestly I hope she will continue to help you with her counsels and advice!”

“Mother,” replied the boy, “I am as grateful to her as you could wish me to be; but so long as I can be guided by you, I will seek no other counsellor!”

138As he said this, he threw himself into his mother’s arms, and mingled his kisses with her tears of affection and joy.

And thus engaged we must leave them for the present.

Bump, bump, bump! never was ball so elastic and springy. Caoutchouc was as lazy and lumpish as lead itself when compared with it! Bump, bump, bump! and a bound of twenty feet between each bump. Down to the ground as light as a feather, and then up in the air again, ever so high, almost before you could say it had touched the earth. A single kick from the Lady Abracadabra, and away it went, down the broad gravel terrace, as if it took pleasure in its feats!

Poor Prince Eigenwillig: it was lucky for you that that same process of drawing you through the keyhole, which, so to speak, 139had elongated you into a coil of living catgut, had also transformed your bones into gristle. Had there been any brittle material left in your fabric, it must have been fractured; but you were more mercifully dealt with than, considering your conduct to little Witikind, you deserved. The Fairy had no malevolent intentions towards you, though she did not choose that your audacious misbehaviour should go unpunished. She made a foot-ball of you, and kicked you before her, which was very much the kind of treatment you had bestowed upon all your attendants; but she had no wish to do you a mischief in life or limb; she only desired to administer some wholesome discipline.

Down the broad terrace bounded the involuntary traveller, and over the parapet in which it terminated. Fifty feet and more did the contorted Hope of the Katzekopfs traverse in the air before a bed of nettles received him. Over and over did he turn, to escape the stinging torment, but in vain: even the 140most elastic of balls cannot raise itself out of the bottom of a ditch.

Another kick from the Fairy was necessary; and as she kicked him, she exclaimed, “This is your punishment for having endeavoured to turn me into a toad: you may thank your lucky stars, and my good-nature, that this ditch is filled with nothing worse than nettles: it would have served you right had it been full of vipers.”

The Prince was smarting all over, so, perhaps, he did not feel as grateful as the Lady Abracadabra seemed to expect. But however that might be, there was no time for talking. Up the bank he flew, and pursued his painful way, “through bush, and through briar,” now over a wide expanse of gorse, now over thistly wastes, till there was not a quarter of an inch on the whole surface of the ball which had not received its share of castigation.

“Stop!” cried the Lady Abracadabra at length; and the Prince was but too glad to 141obey. “Come hither!” she continued. The Prince rolled towards her. As soon as he was within reach, she slipped off her girdle, and passing it through two or three of the living coils, lifted the ball from the ground, and threw it over her shoulder with a jerk, much in the same manner that a porter raises a sack on his back. Then she whistled three times; her cockatrice appeared at the sound; she sprung on her embroidered saddle,—her burden still suspended from her shoulder:—she gave the word; the monster spread forth his wings, and rose in the air; and in a few seconds the Hope of the Katzekopfs was far away from the scene of his errors, and from the influence of those whose weak indulgence had contributed to confirm him in them.

Darkness was now coming on apace, and the Prince was too much entangled in his own circumvolutions to be able to see very accurately whither he was wending, even had he known the country; but he was conscious that he was mounting higher and higher, and 142that he was being borne along with such increasing rapidity, that he thought within himself that they would certainly reach the world’s end by sunrise. On, and on, and on. The moon rose and set. The night air grew colder and colder: the clouds among which they travelled seemed denser and denser. Shivering at once and smarting; exhausted and hungry; terrified and indignant, the unhappy son of Queen Ninnilinda at length sunk into a state of apathy or unconsciousness.

How far, therefore, or in what direction he had been conveyed he knew not, but when he came to himself, morning had dawned, and he was aware that the Fairy was hovering at no great distance above the summit of a grassy hill, in the midst of a wooded country.

“Stop!” cried the Lady Abracadabra to her steed. The cockatrice poised in mid air. “Now, Eigenwillig,” said she, “you are going into Fairy-land. Take care how you behave there, for my countrymen are not to be trifled with.”

As she spoke she slipped one end of her 143girdle, and at the same moment the Prince became conscious that he was falling as rapidly as he had risen. But this was not all, for still, as he fell, he was conscious that he was no longer a compact ball, but that he was unrolling—yard after yard—with the gre............