Part 13

A glad smile came upon Claude’s pale face, and he said suddenly,--

“I know it now. It is to King Frost’s palace that I am going. Farewell, father.”

And before the old man could say another word, the youth was far beyond the sound of his feeble voice.

All day Claude hastened on, although the cold became so terrible that it seemed to fetter his limbs with icy chains.

At last, just at sunset, he found himself upon a wide plain, covered with hard, frozen snow. No shelter was at hand, nothing to protect him from the cutting wind, which began to rise; but stop,--yes, there is one tree, an aged fir, standing in the centre of the plain.

Toward it Claude staggered feebly, hoping to find some slight relief from his suffering by interposing its gnarled trunk between him and the biting wind.

He reached it, and sunk upon the snow, his eyes closing with a sense of drowsiness.

As they did so, Claude half saw before him a low, broad mountain covered with snow, which glittered in the rays of the setting sun.

He started with a sudden thought, opened his eyes, and looked about him.

Yes! The mountain, the tree, the plain! It was, at last, the long-sought picture; but, sinking back, he murmured with a bitter sigh,--

“It was only a mountain, after all!”

Once more he unclosed his eyes, and gazed steadfastly before him.

As he did so, he started upright; the warm blood tingling again in his frozen veins.

It was the palace! The palace of his boyish dreams! The palace of King Frost!

Eagerly he strove to move toward it, but his limbs refused to obey him; he sunk exhausted upon the snow, his eyes fixed upon the fairy palace.

At that moment the great doors were thrown wide open, the guards ranged themselves upon either hand, and between them appeared a light and graceful figure, her white robes floating back as she came swiftly toward him.

The stiffening eyelids fell over Claude’s weary eyes. With an effort he raised them once more, and she stood over him, looking down, as he had seen her in the frost picture; a tall and slender maiden, with eyes blue as the winter sky, and bright as the stars in a frosty night; her long, waving hair, pale as the rays of the setting sun which shone upon her; her brow and cheeks pure and pale as the new-fallen snow.

Lovingly she looked down at him, and earnestly Claude tried to return her gaze; but the heavy lids closed over his eyes in spite of every effort. The frost-maiden knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. A feeling of delicious repose stole over Claude’s senses, and he slept, while in a low, whispering voice, the maiden murmured in his ear,--

“You have come, my darling, you have come! Long have I waited and watched, since the night I first peeped in at your casement, while I drew the pictures that you love; since I showed you my father’s palace, and this tree, and my own image; long have you wandered, long have you sought, my poor Claude! Did you think to find the frost-maiden in that burning south where you have been so long? I should die, my beloved, if I even hovered over that scorching land,--die, and fall in tears, which men call rain. No, here is my home; and here shall you dwell ever with me, my Claude! The walls of my father’s palace are covered with pictures such as mortals never saw; and when we tire of them, the frost-sprites which wait upon us shall draw other and more beautiful ones.

“Then, together we will roam over sea and land, borne upon the broad wings of the north wind, and, passing by the curtained, shuttered windows of the rich, we will draw our fairest pictures on the lowly casement where dwell those who have none save those we give them. We will touch with flying feet the surface of the lake and brook, and spread a glittering roof over the Naiads far below; we will breathe, as we pass by, upon the withering leaves, and clothe their death with beauty; we will fringe the cottage eaves with pendant jewels, such as no queen wears; we will open the chestnut burrs that the squirrels may feast, and kiss the cheeks of merry children till they bloom like winter roses. All this, and more will we do, dear Claude. Come, then, to the home of the frost-maiden,--come, come, come!”

Singing the last words in a low, sighing voice, the frost-maiden breathed upon Claude’s face. Immediately a light vapor rose into the air above where he lay, and rapidly took form and shape; it was Claude, yet not Claude. He was changed to a frost-sprite, and no longer could suffer pain in the kingdom of the Frost King.

He seized the maiden’s hand, together they entered the palace, and the great gates closed slowly behind them.

* * * * *

So now every child who sees in the morning his window covered with pictures, will know that while he slept, Claude and the frost-maiden have been at work.

UNDER THE SEA

In the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from any land, a great ship lay becalmed. It was a passenger ship, bound to the East Indies, and there were a good many families on board, and a still larger number of young men who had left their friends behind, and were going out to see if they could gather some of the famous “riches of the Indies” into their own pockets. Among these young men was one called Ernest, who not only had no relatives or near friends on board the ship, but, so far as he knew, in the wide world. Ever since he could remember he had been alone, and very lonely; nor did he feel less so now among all these persons, who each seemed to have some one to love or take an interest in them, except himself; and so still he was alone.

Day after day passed, and the ship lay becalmed, until the motionless heat became very oppressive. One night Ernest, strolling languidly up and down the deck, stopped, and, looking over the taffrail near the stern of the vessel, saw a little boat, which had been let down that one of the officers might bathe from it, and which still lay rocking gently on the little waves; so Ernest, thinking it would be a pleasant place to lie and dream, clambered down the side of the great ship, and, stretching himself upon a cloak in the bottom of the boat, soon fell fast asleep.

Some hours passed, and then Ernest awoke with a start, for a great wave had broken over his little skiff and drenched him with water. Sitting upright, he looked about him in silent amazement. During the night the wind had suddenly risen, and in a few hours increased to a gale. On board the ship, the sailors who were keeping watch had set the great sails, glad enough to see them fill once more. But no one had remembered or noticed the little boat towing astern, which, after following quietly on for awhile, pulling harder and harder upon the slender line which held it to the ship, suddenly snapped it in two, and in a moment was left far behind.