CHAPTER VIII
TREE-TOP LAND
Where were you taught your song, little bird? Who sent you to kiss us, you breezes of May? There are secrets, yes secrets you never have heard, Whispered breezes and bird as they fluttered away.
_Spring Song._
Where were they?
Why, sitting on the short thymy grass just behind the Castle, not astone's throw from the old tree trunk where they had found the littledoor, which the golden key had opened.
They gazed at each other, then rubbed their eyes and gazed again.
'How did we get out of the panniers?' said Hildegarde. 'I never feltanything, did you, Leonore?'
Leonore's reply was another question.
'Have we been dreaming?' she said. 'No, of course it couldn't be that,people can't dream the same dream together; it is too funny and queer.'
'It's just what it is,' said Hildegarde laughing. 'We've been tognomeland, and now we've come back again. And after all, Leonore, wehaven't been two hours away. Look at the sun, it is not near settingyet, but of course in gnomeland, as they told us, they don't count timeas we do.'
She got up as she spoke and gave herself a little shake.
'I want to be sure I have not been dreaming,' she went on. 'Even thoughI _know_ I haven't. Pinch me, Leonore, just a nice little gentle pinchto make me feel real, and I'll pinch you in return.'
The pinching made them both laugh, which took away the dreamy feelingbetter than anything else.
'And now,' said Hildegarde, 'I suppose we had best make our way home--toyour home I mean, Leonore, as fast as we can. Grandmamma gave me leaveto stay out till sunset, and Aunt Anna will be expecting us back in timefor coffee.'
'Yes,' said Leonore. 'She hoped you would come back with me after ourwalk; but, Hildegarde, what shall we say if they ask where we havebeen?'
'Say?' repeated Hildegarde, 'why, that we have been up in the woodsbehind the Castle. We mayn't tell anything more, and I don't believe wecould if we tried. That is always the way with people who have been toFairyland, or at least part of the way there--besides----' but shehesitated.
'Besides what?' asked Leonore curiously.
'Oh,' said Hildegarde, 'I was only going to say that I am not sure butwhat Aunt Anna understands a great deal more than she says. There issomething very fairyish about her sometimes. I don't think she'llquestion us much.'
'Perhaps,' said Leonore, in her funny rather prim matter-of-fact littleway, 'she has been there herself when she was a little girl.'
'I shouldn't much wonder,' Hildegarde replied, and then they turned todescend the hill towards the village street.
'Hildegarde,' said Leonore as they were walking on, 'how shall we knowwhen we are meant to crack the next two nuts?'
'I can't tell you just now,' her little friend replied, 'for I don'tknow myself. But I am quite sure we shall know in good time. My fairywon't forget about us, and she will tell us somehow.'
Fraulein Elsa was looking out for them at the gate. She welcomed themwith a cheerful smile.
'You are just in good time for coffee,' she said. 'Aunt Anna sent me outto look for you. Have you had a pleasant afternoon?'
'Very pleasant indeed,' Hildegarde replied. The governess asked no more,nor did Aunt Anna, who was seated at the table, where there was atempting display of the cakes which she knew to be Hildegarde'sfavourites.
'I thought you would be punctual,' she said to the children; 'you havebeen up in the woods behind the Castle, I suspect, and I hope you havebrought back a good appetite?'
'Very good indeed,' they replied together, and at the same moment afunny thought struck them both. The 'collation' had not been of a kindto prevent their feeling hungry now! And Aunt Anna was quite satisfiedwith the way the cakes disappeared.
'I think I must be going home,' said Hildegarde a little later on.'Grandmamma will like to find me there when she returns from her drive.May Leonore come to the foot of the Castle hill with me?'
'Certainly,' said Fraulein, 'and to-morrow I hope you may meet again,indeed every day, unless the weather should be very bad.'
'Oh in that case,' said Hildegarde eagerly, 'I hope Leonore will wrapherself up well and come to spend the day with me. Of course I couldcome here--I am not the least afraid of rain, or wind, or snow, oranything like that--but the Castle is so big and such a splendid placefor playing in, when there is any one to play with, though it is ratherdull all alone. And about to-morrow,' she went on, 'may Leonore come upimmediately after dinner? Grandmamma would like to see her.'
To this request too, Fraulein willingly consented, and the two childrenset off.
'You have your nuts quite safe?' said Leonore, as they kissed each otherin saying goodbye. Hildegarde nodded reassuringly.
'You needn't be afraid,' she said, 'after keeping them all these years,since I was a little baby; it isn't likely that I should lose them now,just when they've come to be of use. I should be more afraid of yours,Leonore, except that, to tell you the truth, I don't believe either ofus could lose them if we tried.'
'Mine are quite safe,' said Leonore, slipping her hand into her jacketpocket to feel them, 'and I certainly won't risk trying whether theywould find their way back or not.' And so saying she ran off.
Nothing came to interfere with their plans. The weather continuedlovely, and the children spent every afternoon together. For the oldBaroness, Hildegarde's grandmother, to whom Leonore was introduced thenext day, was just as pleased on her side, as were Fraulein and AuntAnna on theirs, that each, otherwise lonely little girl, should have acompanion. And for two or three weeks nothing special happened. Theysearched in vain among the trees behind the Castle for the old trunk inwhich was the little door. No trace of it was to be seen. But thisscarcely disappointed them.
'It wouldn't be a magic door,' said Hildegarde, 'if it was always there,or at least, always to be found. No, Leonore, we must just wait till thespinning-wheel fairy sends us some message or tells us somehow what weare to do.'
To which Leonore agreed. Nevertheless, on many an afternoon they laydown with their ears to the ground near the spot where they believed theentrance to gnomeland to be, listening if no murmur of the queerunderground life, which they had had a glimpse of, could reach them. Butit never did.
At last one day Hildegarde appeared with a look on her face which toldLeonore that she had something to tell, and as soon as they were bythemselves she began eagerly.
'Leonore,' she said, 'I believe I have got a message at last from ourfairy. I am not sure if it was a dream or if she was really there. Itwas quite early this morning before I was up, I thought I saw herstanding beside my bed--her real self, you know, not the little oldmarket-woman--she smiled and said, "You have been very patient children,and now you shall be rewarded. Crack two more of your nuts thisafternoon when you are up in the woods. Throw high and throw together,and you will see." And then, when I was going to speak to her and thankher, and ask her to explain a little more, she was gone.'
'Of course it was a message,' said Leonore; 'let us hurry off as fast aswe can,' for it was already afternoon. 'I should think the best placewould be just where we cracked the first ones.'
'No,' said Hildegarde, '_I_ think, as near as we can guess to the magicdoor, would be the best. Further up in the woods I mean, than where wecracked the nuts.'
So thither they hastened, full of eagerness and excitement.
'You crack first this time,' said Hildegarde, 'as I did the last.'
Leonore obeyed her, and both little girls peered anxiously into thenutshell. Their first idea was that it would contain some paper ofdirections, as had been the case before, but it was not so. On thecontrary, the only thing they saw was a little mass of very, very finecolourless thread or silk, so fine indeed as to seem almost like cobweb.With the utmost care Leonore drew it out--it was stronger than itlooked, for at one end was attached to it a small, delicately-fashionedsilver hook, like the finest fairy fish-hook.
The children stared a
t each other.
'What can it mean?' they said.
Leonore gave the threads a little shake, one end dropped to the groundand, in doing so, unravelled itself.
'I see what it is,' exclaimed Hildegarde. 'It is a rope ladder, afairy's rope ladder of course, for nothing stronger than a spider couldpossibly climb up it. Perhaps my nut will explain.'
So saying, she hastened to crack it, but to their surprise and momentarydisappointment its contents were precisely the same as those ofLeonore's nut.
'Well,' said Hildegarde, after a moment or two's reflection, 'we'reevidently meant to find out for ourselves what to do with these queerthings.'
'But the fairy did say something to you,' Leonore reminded her, '"throwhigh," wasn't that what she said?'
'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'how stupid of me to have forgotten, we must bemeant to throw these little hooks which are at one end up into the air,like the Indian jugglers I have heard about, and, as they are fairyhooks, I suppose they will find something to catch on to. "Throw highand throw together," was what she said, so here goes. Hold your hookcarefully Leonore, as I do. I will count, and when I get to three wemust throw--one, two----' And at 'three' both children flung up the tinymissiles into the air.
Up, up, they flew, or seemed to fly, as straight as a rocket, tillnothing was to be seen but the quivering thread gleaming brightly in thesunshine, which at that moment broke through the branches. And then, soquickly that they could not watch the change, the fairy ladders grew andswelled, till the threads of which they were made were as firm andstrong as tightly twisted fine rope. They grew taut too, the lower enddisappearing into the ground, as if held there by invisible hands.
Hildegarde's eyes shone with delight.
''Tis plain what we are meant to do,' she said; 'we are to climb up.'
Leonore, on the contrary, looked a little frightened. 'Up to where?' shesaid timidly.
'Oh,' said Hildegarde, 'that remains to be seen, of course. Don't besilly, Leonore. I think it was far more frightening to go downunderground than to climb up into the beautiful sky. Come along.'
And they set off on their strange journey.
It was not difficult after all. The rope felt firm and substantial, eventhough soft to the touch, so that it in no way rasped their hands. Andwhen they got a little higher, they began to see that the hooks hadattached themselves to the very top of an immensely tall tree, whichsomehow gave Leonore more confidence.
'I am not in the least giddy; are you?' said Hildegarde. 'I am beginningto feel like a bird.'
And Leonore agreed that she too felt perfectly at ease.
'That's what comes of having to do with fairies,' said Hildegarde withsatisfaction; 'with a fairy like ours, at least. You see she planseverything so nicely for us.'
A few moments more and their heads were on a level with the topmostbranches. Just as they were wondering what was coming next, they heard avoice a little above them.
'Jump,' it said. 'First Hildegarde, then Leonore; don't be frightened, Iwill catch you.'
Up they sprang fearlessly, for something in the voice made fearimpossible, though instinctively they closed their eyes, and----. Whenthey opened them again, there stood the spinning-wheel fairy, smiling atthem, as they lay together on a couch of something soft and blue, softyet firm.
'Are we on the other side of the sky?' asked Hildegarde. The fairynodded.
'You are in tree-top land,' she said, 'the country of the air-fairies.When you have rested after your ascent, I will show you the way on, andbefore long you will meet some old friends. In the meantime I will drawup your ladders, for they may serve again, and we don't like wastinganything. I spun them for you myself long ago. I have a spinning-wheelup here as well as down below.'
She moved away, seeming to melt into the lovely blue which was allaround them. But in a moment or two she returned again and held out ahand to each child, and, springing to their feet, Hildegarde and Leonoregladly took hold of her.
Then just before them, to their surprise, if they had still been able tofeel surprise, they saw a little silver gate, which opened of itself asthey approached it, and passing through with the fairy, they foundthemselves at the edge, of what they at first thought was a lovely lakeof water, sparkling blue in the sunshine. But there were no boats uponit.
'How are we to cross it,' asked Hildegarde. 'Surely this is Fairylanditself at last?' but their guide shook her head.
'No, not Fairyland itself,' she replied, 'though on the way to it. RealFairyland is still far away. I can only do as I promised you--show yousome of the countries that lie between your land and it. Boats are notneeded here. What you see is not water but air, and with these you willeasily make your way across the lake.'
So saying, she drew from under her mantle something white and fluffy,which proved to be two little pairs of wings, one pair for each child,which she slipped over their heads. They fitted as if they had alwaysgrown there, and, light as they had felt themselves before, Hildegardeand Leonore now seemed to themselves to be made of air itself.
'Off with you,' said the fairy laughing, with a little toss of her handtowards the children as if they had been two balls of thistle-down.'When you have seen enough and want to go home you will easily find me;you have only to listen for the whirr of my spinning-wheel.'
And she was no longer there.
Flying or swimming, which was it? They could scarcely have told. Forthough their wings kept them up as lightly as any bird, their feet tooseemed to move in time with their wings.
'Isn't it lovely?' said Hildegarde, and Leonore, who at first felt alittle breathless, laughed back in agreement. But this journey throughthe blue soon came to an end. The wings seemed to be their guides, forthey suddenly dropped on their shoulders, and the children foundthemselves standing in front of another silver gate, higher and moreimposing than the former one. It glittered so that for a moment or twothey were dazzled, but as their eyes grew accustomed to the brilliance,looking up, they saw worked in, among the silvery trellis, some letters,which with a little difficulty they spelt out.
'Singing-school,' were the words they read.
'Singing-school,' repeated Hildegarde, 'what can that mean?'
'And the fairy said we should soon meet some old friends,' addedLeonore. 'Oh, Hildegarde,' and she held up her hand, 'I think Iunderstand, listen.' They stood perfectly still and gradually sweetsounds reached their ears--a soft warbling as of many little voices inharmony. Then came a moment's silence, followed by the notes of a singlesinger, then warbling again--and again another voice alone, trillinghigh, high, till it seemed to melt away in the distance.
'That was a lark,' said Leonore, 'the last one, and the one before ablackbird, I think.'
'Or a thrush,' said Hildegarde, 'yes, I rather think it was a thrush.'
But in the eagerness with which they had been listening, they had notnoticed that the high gates had opened gently inwards, and in the centrebetween them stood two charming figures smiling at the children.
'Come in,' said one of them, 'we have been expecting you for some time.'
'Are you the air-fairies?' asked Hildegarde. She spoke with moreconfidence than to the gnomes; there was something so sweet and graciousabout these pretty creatures that no one could feel afraid of them.
'Yes,' was the reply, 'and we are also the birds' singing-teachers. Hereyou will see many of your old friends--nightingales, larks, blackbirds,robins, all of them, even down to the poor little sparrows, whom weteach to chirp and twitter.'
'How wonderful!' exclaimed the children.
'Are they all the little young birds?' asked Leonore; 'no, of coursenot,' she added, 'they can't be, for this is autumn.'
'We have classes all the year round,' said one of the fairies, 'exceptin the very middle of your summer, when we give them a holiday, that youmay all enjoy the bird concerts to perfection.'
They had been walking slowly onwards till now, through a wide passage,the walls of which were like the whitest marble, though
without its hardcoldness. And now the fairy opening a door signed to them to pass in,and as they did so, the music they had heard grew clearer and louder.For they were in the central hall of the great bird singing-school.
There they were, rows and rows of them, each family by itself, thesmaller birds higher up, the bigger ones nearer the ground, and at theend of each row, perched a little apart from the others, was the headbird of his tribe--these, as the fairies afterwards explained, being themonitors of each class.
But the queerest thing was, that every kind of bird was there, even suchas we never think of as musical in any way, for down the central passagewere strolling some magnificent peacocks, long red-legged storks; and ina large basin of water at the farther end, graceful swans, snowy ducks,and even homely gray-plumaged geese were contentedly enjoyingthemselves.
Hildegarde and Leonore gazed in surprise.
'Peacocks,' they exclaimed, 'peacocks and ducks and geese--why, none ofthem can sing!'
The fairy smiled.
'Ah,' she said, 'the ears that hear have something to do with truemusic; down below in your world it is not like here with us. Much thatis true music sounds to you harsh and unlovely. Wait a little and youshall hear for yourselves.'
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