MOON FANCIES

THERE was once a girl called Lurina, who dwelt with her parents in a cottage on the edge of a great forest, which was said to be enchanted. She was an only child, and her parents, whose names were Panus and Cora, were very fond of her, although she certainly gave them a great deal of trouble. Not that she was naughty in any way, for no one could have been better or more obedient; but she was generally very dull and sleepy all the day, and only woke up at night-time, when she liked to wander outside in the moonlight, instead of going to bed. This habit led her parents to think she had faery blood in her veins, and, although Panus was a dull, stupid man, he nevertheless remembered how very peculiar his old grandmother had been in her actions.

Another curious thing was that Lurina had been born just at full moon, which is the time when all the faeries hold their great monthly festival, and Cora remembered hearing them singing a birth-song about little Lurina, who lay by her side. So there was no doubt but that the faery blood which flowed in the veins of the old grandmother had missed a generation, and once more came out in Lurina. Panus and Cora therefore let her do just as she liked, which was the best thing they could do, as they had been told by a Wise Woman who lived near them.

Lurina was a most beautiful girl, with golden hair, a delicate white skin, and dark, dark eyes, which had a somewhat mournful look in their depths. When she arrived at the age of eighteen, a young woodman called Berl fell in love with her, and, after some hesitation, Lurina promised to become his wife, provided he let her do exactly as she pleased, and did not stop her night wanderings.

“You can go into the forest whenever you like,” said Berl, kissing her; “but why do you not come when the sun is bright, instead of the feeble moonlight?”

“I don’t like the sun,” said Lurina, pouting, “it makes everything so hot and disagreeable; but the moonlight is so soft and beautiful that I love it. Besides, you don’t know what strange fancies come to me when the moon is shining.”

“What kind of fancies?” asked Berl, who was a somewhat dull youth.

“Oh, all sorts of beautiful things,” replied Lurina dreamily; “lovely little men and women dressed in green, who dance lightly on the emerald turf, and strange, sweet songs which sound like rushing water and the whispering of leaves. I dream about them when I’m in the wood, but nowhere else.”

Berl was now convinced that Lurina had faery blood in her veins, and attended the festivals of the faeries, which she called moon fancies; but, being a very cautious man, he said nothing to Lurina; nevertheless, before he got married he consulted the Wise Woman.

She was really a very wonderful old woman, with snow-white hair and a form nearly bent double with age. She listened to Berl’s story about Lurina’s moon fancies, and then spoke in a harsh, determined voice.

“Your future wife has dealings with the faeries,” she said, looking at Berl from under her bushy white eyebrows; “but what she sees at night in the forest are real truths, and not fancies as she thinks. My advice to you is not to marry her, lest evil befall you.”

But Berl was too much in love with the beautiful Lurina to take this advice, so he said nothing, but asked Panus and Cora to let him marry their daughter at once, which they were very pleased to do, for he was quite a rich man among the woodmen and, moreover, very good-natured.

The wedding-day arrived at last, and Lurina was married to Berl by the village pastor. Those who thought she had faery blood in her veins said she would never be able to enter the church; but, much to their surprise, nothing unusual occurred at the ceremony, so they began to think Lurina was only a dull, stupid girl after all. This was a mistake, however, as you will soon hear.

Berl and Lurina took up their abode in a pretty cottage under the shade of a great oak, and lived very happily for a long time. Lurina was still dreamy and quiet all the day, but as Berl was generally at work in the wood, he did not notice it much. At night-time, however, she still wandered into the forest, especially when the moon was very bright, and this habit began to annoy Berl very much, but as he had given his word not to interfere with Lurina, he said nothing.

One night, however, when the moon was full, and the whole of the forest was bathed in the pale, cold light, he woke up, and, missing his wife from his side, knew that she had gone into the forest to indulge in her moon fancies. Berl sprang out of bed, and just caught a glimpse of her shadow disappearing among the trunks of the trees; so he rapidly slipped on his clothes and hurried after her, being determined to find out why she was so fond of these midnight wanderings.

“She’s going to a meeting of the faeries,” thought Berl, as he ran across the lawn. “I hope the little people won’t be angry if they see me; but my wife will protect me.”

For you must know that the faeries never like their revels gazed upon by mortal eye, and if they catch any one looking they pinch him black and blue; so Berl had good reason to be afraid of venturing into the enchanted wood at night.

He followed his wife cautiously, always keeping her in sight, but taking care she should not see him, when suddenly she crossed an open glade and vanished. Berl ran after her, but could find no trace of Lurina at all, and was quite disconsolate, when all at once he espied her sitting at the foot of a great beech tree, leaning against the trunk, with her beautiful face looking pale and white in the moonshine. Having watched her for a long time, he ventured to approach and call her by name, but, to his astonishment, she did not answer nor express surprise at seeing him, but simply stared across the glade with vague, unseeing eyes.

Emboldened by her silence, Berl ran up and fell on his knees with a little laugh, thinking she would scold him for having dared to follow her. He was perplexed, however, to see that she still did not seem to notice him, and when at last he took one of her hands, it was as cold as ice. Starting up in alarm, he looked closely at her, and found that she did not breathe—placed his hand on her heart, and discovered that it did not beat.

“Why, she’s dead!” he cried in alarm. “Lurina, it is I, your husband, Berl.”

Still Lurina did not answer. So, convinced she was dead, Berl threw her body over his shoulder and hurried home. When he got inside, he did everything he could to revive her, but it was no use; the beautiful Lurina was dead, and Berl sat all night beside her body, weeping bitterly.

At the first red flush of dawn, he went from house to house, telling Lurina’s parents and all the neighbours that his wife had died the preceding night in the forest. Every one came to Berl’s house to see if it was true, and offer advice, which one’s neighbours are very fond of doing. Among those who came was the Wise Woman, who surveyed the beautiful Lurina for some time in silence, then laughed loudly.

“Why do you laugh?” asked Berl, angry with her for doing so.

“I laugh at your folly,” said the Wise Woman, looking oddly at him. “Lurina is no more dead than I am.”

“But her heart is not beating, and she does not breathe,” said Panus quickly.

“Nevertheless, she is not dead,” replied the Wise Woman quietly. “Have you ever seen her like this before?” she added, turning to Cora.

“No, never,” answered Cora, who was weeping bitterly.

“Ah! that is because you never followed her to the forest as Berl did,” said the Wise Woman thoughtfully. “I told you, Berl, that your wife had faery blood in her veins, and you should have taken my advice about the marriage.”

“Well, it’s too late now to blame me,” said Berl roughly, for he did not like to be reproached. “What am I to do?”

“I will tell you,” observed the Wise Woman. “Come to my cottage at once.”

So Berl left the body of his beautiful Lurina with her parents, and walked with the Wise Woman to her cottage, which was just on the verge of the wood, but protected from the entry of the faeries by a rusty horse-shoe fastened on the door.

When Berl entered, the Wise Woman drew a circle on the ground with her magic staff, whereupon a ring of pale flickering fire appeared; then she pulled seven hairs out of the tail of her black cat, and threw them into the midst of the circle, where they began to twist about in a most surprising manner. While they were doing this, the Wise Woman waved her staff seven times in the air, muttering strange words, and a white smoke arose from the centre of the fire circle where the hairs were jumping about. This white smoke went up like a white cloud, then suddenly vanished, and Berl saw a little man, all dressed in red, sitting in the centre of the circle.

“Well, what do you want?” he said graciously to the Wise Woman, whose bright eyes sparkled when she saw him.

“Why did Lurina die?” asked the Wise Woman. “Tell me, Pop.”

“She’s not dead at all,” answered Pop quickly; “she is a faery, and went into the woods to attend the festival. As she could not join the revels of Oberon in her human body, which would be too big, she left it behind, leaning against the trunk of a beech tree, and her faery body went to dance with the faeries. Of course, when Berl took her body away, she could not find it again when she returned, and she never will find it till it’s brought back to the same place.”

“What is to be done, then?” asked the Wise Woman.

“Berl must take Lurina’s body back again from where he brought it,” said Pop; “but before Lurina’s faery body can come back to it, Berl will have to get permission for it to do so from Oberon.—Now let me go, I’ve told you all I know.”

The Wise Woman waved her staff again, the white smoke came down on the little red man like an extinguisher, then everything vanished, and Berl found himself standing outside the door of the cottage, with the Wise Woman smiling at him.

“You heard what Pop said,” she observed kindly; “you will have to go to the court of King Oberon, and ask him to let your wife come back.”

“But will he do so?” asked Berl doubtfully.

“Ah, that I do not know,” said the Wise Woman; “but as the faeries may treat you badly for looking at their festival, take this sprig of the rowan tree, and it will protect you. Don’t forget to take Lurina’s body back to the beech tree.”

Berl took the sprig of rowan with its red berries that she handed to him, and walked away to his own cottage. He did not tell any one what the Wise Woman had said, but managed to put off all their questions by pretending to be too grieved to speak. So one after another the neighbours departed, until only Panus and Cora were left, and they, too, after kissing the pale lips of Lurina, went away, leaving Berl alone.

Berl waited impatiently for night to come, and as soon as the moon was glowing like glittering silver in the starry sky, he took Lurina up in his arms, and, carrying her into the forest, placed her in the same position as he had found her, leaning against the trunk of the beech tree.

When he had done this, he looked round perplexed, for he did not know how to find the faery court, but, taking out the rowan twig, he looked at it earnestly, wondering if it would by some magic means show him the way. But the rowan twig made no sign, and Berl put up the hand in which he held it to take off his cap and fasten it in it, when the twig happened to strike his ear, and immediately the silent forest became full of sounds.

He heard the most delightful music, then a burst of gay laughter, and, following the direction from whence they proceeded, he came upon a wide open glade, with a smooth green sward upon which the moon was shining. Still, though he looked very hard, he could not see a faery; then, suddenly remembering how the rowan twig had bewitched his ears, he took it out of his hat, and pressed the red berries against his eyes. To his delight, he now saw that all the sward was covered with thousands of little men and women all dressed in pale green, and at the end was a throne of great white lilies, upon which sat the King and Queen of Faeryland. All round the glade were a circle of glow-worms, whose pale lights illuminated the festival, and the bright moonlight pouring down through the boughs of the trees made everything as bright as day.

As soon as the faeries discovered that Berl could really see them at their revels, they shrieked with rage, and hundreds of the little green creatures swarmed up on his body to pinch him black and blue. Berl was in a great fright at first, till he suddenly remembered what the Wise Woman had said about the rowan sprig, so immediately called out—

“Magic branch of rowan tree,

Work the charm and set me free.”

At once there was a dead silence, and all the faeries fell to the ground like withered leaves in autumn. Some of them ran to the throne of lilies, and spoke to the King, upon which Oberon stepped down, and, followed by a long train, walked up to Berl and commanded him to sit down. Berl did so, and then Oberon struck the ground with his wand, whereupon a great red rose sprang up, in which he took his seat with Queen Titania, while the other faeries gathered round and prepared to listen.

“Now, mortal,” said Oberon in a dignified manner, “how is it that with an earthly eye you have beheld the unseen revels of the faeries?”

“It was by this rowan twig, your Majesty,” said Berl, showing Oberon the sprig; “the Wise Woman gave it to me as a protection, in case the faeries should be angry.”

“We are only angry with evil-disposed people,” said Oberon gently; “and if you come here with a pure heart, no one will harm you. What do you want with us?”

“I want my wife Lurina,” said Berl boldly.

There was a cry of astonishment at this. Suddenly a faery flew forward on emerald wings, and, as she stood before Oberon, Berl saw that it was Lurina.

“Yes, your Majesty,” said the faery Lurina, “I am his wife, but he lost me through his curiosity, as your Majesty knows. I was exiled from Faeryland many years ago, and condemned to dwell in a human body. I lived in Lurina’s body, but was allowed by the Queen to join in the faery revels at night. I told my husband not to follow me, but he did so, and found my human body lying as if dead under the beech tree, because I had left it to attend the festival. When I went back, I could not find it, so had to stay in the forest all day as a faery.”

“Is this true?” asked Oberon, turning to Titania.

“Perfectly true,” answered Titania. “It was I who punished Lurina by exiling her from Faeryland, but now I think she is punished enough, and, as she has lost her human body through no fault of her own, she is pardoned.”

On hearing these words, the faery Lurina dropped on her knees and kissed the Queen’s hand, then flew off to be congratulated on her good luck by her faery friends. But Berl was not at all pleased to think he had lost his wife for ever, and spoke to the King.

“But what am I to do, your Majesty?” he said, with tears in his eyes. “I love Lurina very much, and don’t want to lose her.”

“There is only one thing to be done,” said Oberon. “Have you brought back the human body of Lurina?”

“Yes, your Majesty; it’s under the beech tree,” replied Berl eagerly.

“Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the King. “As the Queen has pardoned Lurina, of course she can’t go back, as no faery likes to live in your world; but the faery Mala has been very naughty of late, so I will condemn her to inhabit your wife’s body, and stay in exile until she is good enough to come back to court.”

“But that won’t be Lurina,” said Berl.

“She will wear Lurina’s body,” replied Oberon, laughing; “and no one but yourself will be the wiser. Leave the forest at once, and to-morrow morning you will see your wife come to the cottage door. Strike up, music!”

Whereupon the faery music began to play loudly—the blue bells rang merry chimes, the grasshoppers creaked gaily, and the wind commenced to sigh among the forest leaves.

Berl dare not disobey the King’s command, and, after seeing Oberon return to the throne of white lilies, and all the faeries commence their dance again, he arose to his feet. As he did so, he accidentally dropped the rowan twig, which was snatched up by a faery at once, and then the whole of the faery revel vanished. Berl could see nothing of the dancing, nor hear anything of the music, but only beheld the smooth green lawn, the myriad trees around, and the round orb of the moon.

There was nothing left to do but to return home, which he did at once, and you may be sure he got very little sleep that night. At early dawn he was standing at his cottage door, looking towards the wood, when he beheld Lurina tripping gaily towards him, singing merrily. When she saw Berl, she flung herself into his arms.

“Dear Berl, here I am at last!” she cried, kissing him.

“But you are the faery Mala,” said Berl, looking at her in perplexity.

“Who is the faery Mala?” asked Lurina, who had forgotten all about her faery existence now she was in a human body. “I never heard of her. I went into the forest and fell asleep, I suppose. When I awoke I came straight back to you.”

Berl was a wise man, and said no more, but kissed his newly-recovered wife heartily, then called all the neighbours to congratulate him, which they did loudly.

When they told Lurina she had been dead, she declared it was nonsense, as it was only a sleep, and soon every one believed it except Berl and the Wise Woman, to whom Berl told all about his reception by Oberon.

Lurina became bright and gay all day, and never more wandered into the forest to indulge in moon fancies, so Berl thought the faery Mala must have been exiled altogether from Faeryland.

She was very good indeed, so good that Berl was quite afraid lest she should be called back to Faeryland, but as yet that has not happened.