Mopsa the Fairy Part 23

"I wish to go home," said Jack, hanging down his head and speaking in a low voice, for his heart was heavy because of his failure.

"That is well," answered the bird. She took Jack on her back, and in three minutes they were floating among the clouds.

As Jack's feet were lifted up from Fairyland he felt a little consoled. He began to have a curious feeling, as if this had all happened a good while ago, and then half the sorrow he had felt faded into wonder, and the feeling still grew upon him that these things had pa.s.sed some great while since, so that he repeated to himself, "It was a long time ago."

Then he fell asleep, and did not dream at all, nor know anything more till the bird woke him.

"Wake up now, Jack," she said; "we are at home."

"So soon!" said Jack, rubbing his eyes. "But it is evening; I thought it would be morning."

"Fairy time is always six hours in advance of your time," said the bird. "I see glowworms down in the hedge, and the moon is just rising."

They were falling so fast that Jack dared not look; but he saw the church, and the wood, and his father's house, which seemed to be starting up to meet him. In two seconds more the bird alighted, and he stepped down from her back into the deep gra.s.s of his father's meadow.

"Good-by!" she said; "make haste and run in, for the dews are falling"; and before he could ask her one question, or even thank her, she made a wide sweep over the gra.s.s, beat her magnificent wings, and soared away.

It was all very extraordinary, and Jack felt shy and ashamed; but he knew he must go home, so he opened the little gate that led into the garden, and stole through the shrubbery, hoping that his footsteps would not be heard.

Then he came out on the lawn, where the flower-beds were, and he observed that the drawing-room window was open, so he came softly towards it and peeped in.

His father and mother were sitting there. Jack was delighted to see them, but he did not say a word, and he wondered whether they would be surprised at his having stayed away so long. The bird had said that they would not.

He drew a little nearer. His mother sat with her back to the open window, but a candle was burning, and she was reading aloud. Jack listened as she read, and knew that this was not in the least like anything that he had seen in Fairyland, nor the reading like anything that he had heard, and he began to forget the boy-king, and the apple-woman, and even his little Mopsa, more and more.

At last his father noticed him. He did not look at all surprised, but just beckoned to him with his finger to come in. So Jack did, and got upon his father's knee, where he curled himself up comfortably, laid his head on his father's waistcoat, and wondered what he would think if he should be told about the fairies in somebody else's waistcoat pocket. He thought, besides, what a great thing a man was; he had never seen anything so large in Fairyland, nor so important; so, on the whole, he was glad he had come back, and felt very comfortable.

Then his mother, turning over the leaf, lifted up her eyes and looked at Jack, but not as if she was in the least surprised, or more glad to see him than usual; but she smoothed the leaf with her hand, and began again to read, and this time it was about the Shepherd Lady:--

I.

Who pipes upon the long green hill, Where meadow gra.s.s is deep?

The white lamb bleats but followeth on-- Follow the clean white sheep.

The dear white lady in yon high tower, She hearkeneth in her sleep.

All in long gra.s.s the piper stands, Goodly and grave is he; Outside the tower, at dawn of day, The notes of his pipe ring free.

A thought from his heart doth reach to hers: "Come down, O lady! to me."

She lifts her head, she dons her gown: Ah! the lady is fair; She ties the girdle on her waist, And binds her flaxen hair, And down she stealeth, down and down, Down the turret stair.

Behold him! With the flock he wons Along yon gra.s.sy lea.

"My shepherd lord, my shepherd love, What wilt thou, then, with me?

My heart is gone out of my breast, And followeth on to thee."

II.

"The white lambs feed in tender gra.s.s: With them and thee to bide, How good it were," she saith at noon; "Albeit the meads are wide.

Oh! well is me" she saith when day Draws on to eventide.

Hark! hark! the shepherd's voice. Oh, sweet!

Her tears drop down like rain.

"Take now this crook, my chosen, my fere And tend the flock full fain; Feed them, O lady, and lose not one, Till I shall come again."

Right soft her speech: "My will is thine, And my reward thy grace!"

Gone are his footsteps over the hill, Withdrawn his goodly face; The mournful dusk begins to gather, The daylight wanes apace.

III.

On sunny slopes, ah! long the lady Feedeth her flock at noon; She leads them down to drink at eve Where the small rivulets croon.

All night her locks are wet with dew, Her eyes out.w.a.tch the moon.

Over the hills her voice is heard, She sings when light doth wane: "My longing heart is full of love.

When shall my loss be gain?

My shepherd lord, I see him not, But he will come again."

When she had finished, Jack lifted his face and said, "Mamma!" Then she came to him and kissed him, and his father said, "I think it must be time this man of ours was in bed."

So he looked earnestly at them both, and as they still asked him no questions, he kissed and wished them good-night; and his mother said there were some strawberries on the sideboard in the dining-room, and he might have them for his supper.

So he ran out into the hall, and was delighted to find all the house just as usual, and after he had looked about him he went into his own room, and said his prayers. Then he got into his little white bed, and comfortably fell asleep.

That's all.