Fairies Afield

"Thank goodness," murmured such of the family as were near enough to watch the small drama, "thank goodness, she has taken a fancy to the child, and Clodagh is much more tactful than Paulina," for in their heart both Mrs. Marriston and her daughters had been trembling, especially since the reproof which the elder girl had received.

"I am glad to thank you for your courtesy to a lonely and homely old fellow-traveller this morning," Cousin Felicity continued, and then Clodagh's grave face brightened and a touch of colour came into it. She had scarcely overheard what had passed between Paulina and the aged guest, or rather perhaps she had been in too absent a mood to take it in. But now a look of relief spread over her, and she answered in her usual frank and simple way.

"Oh!" she said, "I am so glad you got here comfortably. I think we had both fallen asleep at the time you left the coach, and I – I was so sorry not to have been of any service to you – I had no idea we were bound for the same place," she added, with a little smile of surprise.

"Naturally," Cousin Felicity replied; "that is why I so fully appreciate your courtesy." And she gave an odd though not disagreeable little laugh as she went on: "I hope you lost none of your goods and chattels on the way? You seemed to be somewhat overburdened."

Clodagh drew still nearer to the old lady.

"Yes, indeed," she said. "I am not surprised at your noticing it." Paulina was not near enough to overhear, "We have a terrible number of packages," and her face grew anxious at the remembrance. "It was that, partly, that made my cousin seem so cross," she went on, lowering her voice. "We were so crowded up. And I am so unused to travelling. I don't know how I shall manage. Paulina is so kind to me, and of course I must learn to be of real use to her."

The elder Miss Marriston, Thomasine by name, was standing near. She smiled at Clodagh's sudden, almost childish outburst of confidence – afterwards Clodagh felt at a loss to explain it to herself, for as a rule she was by no means a chatterbox – and remarked, though with a touch of deferential apology in her tone:

"Our Cousin Felicity is the genius of travelling in person. If she would teach you some of her experience, Miss Clodagh, you would indeed be fortunate. We always do say, you know, dear cousin, that you manage as if by magic."

The old lady smiled. She did not seem ill-pleased.

"Yes," said Clodagh, glancing almost with reverence at the exquisite yellowish lace, of cobweb-like texture, draping its owner's skirt, "to see all these lovely treasures of attire, one wonders how it can be so quickly arranged and re-arranged – and packed! For, as far as I remember, Madam, you carried but little with you."

Cousin Felicity smiled again.

"You are right," she said. "I detest encumbrances. I travel with the smallest amount of luggage possible. Not that this lace would add to it – " and she passed her jewelled fingers over it fondly. "All I am wearing could go through a wedding ring. It belonged to my – ah, well, we need not say how far back among my ancestors it dates from."

"It was made in fairyland, I believe," murmured Clodagh, and then there stole across her memory some of the old tales and sayings she had heard in her nursery – how that the "good folk," the "little people," reckon not age and time as we do – that five centuries is in fairyland but as five years, if that, to us. And the story of little Bridget, whose human life ebbed out "between the dawn and morrow," poor little Bridget! recurred to her with a slight shiver. It must have shown in her eyes as she raised them again to her new friend's strange face. But what she read there reassured her in some mysterious way, and then, as if a door or window had suddenly opened in her mind, there flashed into her remembrance all that the landlady of the old inn had told her that very morning about the mysterious and fitful lady in the neighbourhood.

"It is she herself," thought Clodagh. "How extraordinary that I did not guess it before! But, fairy or no fairy, she wishes me nothing but good," and a sweet, grateful smile lighted up the young girl's face, chasing away the first vague misgivings.

"Yes," came in a very soft whisper to her ears, "yes, my dear, you know something about me, and before we part we must have some talk together," but to this there was no time for her to reply, as at that moment dinner was announced and the elder Mr. Marriston came forward to offer his arm to the venerable guest.

Somehow, though she found herself for the first time in her life among strangers, Clodagh did not feel shy or ill at ease. She had an underlying consciousness that she was kindly regarded, for her own sake as well as to please her cousin. Paulina, who by this time had regained her self-possession, was gentler than her wont, and did not speak much. Indeed, though all passed pleasantly there was an indefinite feeling of formality and ceremony not usual in the cheerful and friendly family group.

"It is not half as lively and amusing with that old – " "cat," Paulina was probably going to say but for a "hush" from Clodagh, for it was to her young cousin she was whispering on their way to the drawing-room. "Well – with her here," she continued. "They are all so desperately in awe of her, I can't understand it."

"But do be careful," urged Clodagh. "She may overhear, and you really should be polite and respectful. As you say yourself, age alone demands it."

"I'm not going to be rude," Paulina replied, and she meant what she said, though in her heart she had not forgiven the reproof she had received, especially as she knew she had deserved it. But just as they were entering the long parlour, Clodagh stopped her.

"Cousin," she said, "I cannot rest with the thought of all our things – yours especially – in such confusion upstairs. Will you allow me to go to our rooms now and arrange them, partly at least? I am sure Mrs. Marriston and her daughters will excuse me, if you explain to them."

Paulina hesitated. She had a horror of seeming to treat her young relation as an inferior, and yet she saw that it would really be kinder to agree. Just then Thomasine came up to them, and on Paulina's putting the question to her she took Clodagh's part.

"Yes," she said, "I think it would be far better than for this child to stay down till late, and then probably not get to bed for ever so long." For the Marristons fully understood the position. So Clodagh, much relieved, bade Thomasine a cheerful good-night and ran off.

She worked hard – unpacking, separating, to some extent packing again, for the weather was very hot and she knew that certain clothes could not possibly be required during the few days of their stay at the Priory. She was quick and intelligent and sensible, still she was very young and her task was not an easy one, and but for her extreme anxiety to be of real use to her cousin, she would almost have despaired of managing it.

"But it would never do for me to lose heart at the first start," she said to herself, "and of course, unless I prove fit for the post, Paulina could not afford to keep me with her, as Lady Roseley explained. For she is not very rich, and it is such a blessing to be with her instead of with strangers who knew nothing about me except that I was poor and homeless."

So she cheered up and worked on bravely. The evenings were long, for it was barely past midsummer, and the dinner had been early, so she had time enough to arrange her cousin's belongings, though she had scarcely touched her own, when Paulina made her appearance yawning and wishing herself in bed.

"Good gracious, child!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of Clodagh, "are you at it still? Why, I expected to find you undressed at least, if not in bed. But I must say you seem to have a head on your shoulders. My things look most methodically arranged. And how about your own?"

"Oh," said Clodagh, much pleased, in spite of feeling very sleepy and tired, "I shall soon get them done. I will not make any noise if you go to bed now, but I should like to feel things were tidy before – "

But Paulina interrupted her.

"Nonsense," she said. "I insist on your going to bed yourself. Just get out what is absolutely necessary. You can finish in the morning, and remember," she went on, for she was standing with the door open, and the corridor was still encumbered, "remember to ask the servants to pile up or carry away some of these boxes. One can scarcely get in and out of the rooms. I wish your luggage were a little more concentrated. You have such a number of small cases and bags."

"Yes," Clodagh agreed. "You see I have never travelled any distance till now," and she eyed her goods and chattels somewhat disconsolately.

"We must arrange about it," said Paulina vaguely. "But now, get to bed quickly," and after all, Clodagh felt that she really was getting too sleepy to do more than was unavoidable, and in a short time both girls were fast asleep, Clodagh's last waking thought being a resolve to get up very early indeed to complete her arrangements.

"I wish I could have got it all done to-night, but anyway the confusion outside could not be cleared till to-morrow."

She was tired and she slept soundly, still not quite dreamlessly. One very queer experience she had, and even when she was wide-awake, and daylight streaming in, she could not make up her mind if it had been dream or reality.

This was it, "and," she said to herself, "I am almost certain I was awake."

It was midsummer weather, as I said, so the window was wide open, and suddenly through the silence Clodagh heard a familiar sound. It was that of bees humming. It grew nearer and nearer, and opening her eyes – or dreaming that she did so – she looked up. The room was flooded with moonlight, and in it she perceived the source of the sound. Two large bees were buzzing about, very busy apparently, but as there were no flowers on the table or mantelpiece, Clodagh wondered sleepily what could have attracted them.

"I hope they won't sting me," she thought, for the humming grew nearer, and then, strange to say, out of it gradually soft-whispering words shaped themselves.

"Don't wake her, whatever you do," said one bee. "She is fast asleep and we must obey orders."

"But we can't help humming," murmured the other.

"Well, hum gently. It will soothe her, and let us set to work, for there is plenty to do before daylight."

That was all she heard, and soothe her the sound must have done, for she knew nothing more till she really and unmistakably awoke, to see the sunshine – the lovely, clear early summer morning sunshine – pouring in, to hear the dear birds welcoming another happy beautiful day.

Clodagh started up. She had never felt fresher or brighter; all last night's tiredness had gone. She was used to early rising, and felt that to stay lazily in bed was impossible.

"It would be delicious out-of-doors," she thought, "but I must finish the tidying and sorting, if possible before Paulina awakes," and she sprang out of bed.

But – she rubbed her eyes – was she dreaming? The cupboards, of which there were two in the old-fashioned room, the roomy chest of drawers, all stood open, as if to exhibit their contents and demand approval, and in them were arranged with the perfection of neatness and judiciousness all her possessions, last night in disorder and barely unpacked. And on a chair lay her garments for the day, not only those she had herself placed there, but a spotless cool white gown – much cooler than the black one she had travelled with – the very one she had been hoping to get out and don that morning.

"Have I done it all in my sleep?" she asked, and then some undefined feeling made her open the door and peep out into the passage. Wonder of wonders! All the confusion had disappeared. There stood there, in dignified importance, two roomy, substantial trunks only, one of which she recognised as her cousin's principal one, with her initials in small brass nails on the lid, the other, similar in make and appearance, with the first letters of her own two names marked in the same way. The very sort of thing she had begun to long for since seeing Paulina's.

She lifted the lid – a series of trays was disclosed, and examining further, she perceived at the bottom, most beautifully folded, all her own thicker clothing, gowns and woollens quite unsuitable for present wear, and as she went on in breathless excitement to peer into her cousin's, there was the same arrangement. The very garments she had herself put aside for the present, the evening before, lay there undisturbed, or rather, she suspected, far more exquisitely folded than she had left them. And all the rest, the bandboxes and carpet-bags and unbusiness-like odds and ends she had brought over the sea, had disappeared, as if by magic.

"And magic it is," she said to herself, for, as she stood there listening, a clock in the distance struck five, not another sound or rustle was to be heard. Not a soul was as yet astir in the old house.

Clodagh danced back into her room.

"The fairies are afield," she sang to herself softly. Never had she felt so gay and light-hearted. "I shall dress and run out into the garden," she thought. "There is nothing to keep me indoors. Everything is safe" – for the heavy despatch-box she knew to be in Paulina's keeping. "What will the servants think when they see it?"

What they did think was that each thought the others had cleared away the pile of the young ladies' luggage, leaving only what was required. Or at least, as no questions were asked, no remarks made, they probably thought so, if they thought about it at all! Perhaps their curiosity was put to sleep by some uncanny though not maleficent influence. Who can say?

And in a very short time Clodagh was ready, and hat in hand, looking like the very spirit of the morning in person, she ran downstairs to find the old hall-porter sleepily unbarring the great door, though, sleepy as he was, he could not restrain a smile of admiration and a respectful "You be early about, Miss," to which she laughingly replied, "Who could help it, once they were awake, on such a morning?"

Yet another surprise awaited her, as you shall hear.

The Priory grounds were fairly extensive and delightfully quaint. Great laurel hedges, alternating with curiously high-clipped yews, and some magnificent elms added to the impression of space, as well as to that sort of pleasant "mystery" without which no garden is thoroughly fascinating.

"What a lovely place to explore!" said Clodagh to herself, as she turned down one long shady path, streaked here and there with the early sun-rays filtering through the foliage. Then a sound reached her ears, which recalled her experience of the night before. It was the humming of bees. She stood still for a moment to listen, feeling as if she were on the confines of some enchanted region. Then slowly, treading very softly, she went on. Yes – in a minute or two she saw at the end of the path a huge beautiful beehive, its inhabitants flying in and out, buzzing away, like the busy creatures they are. And in front of it stood a quaint little figure, whom Clodagh this time had no difficulty in at once recognising as the mysterious "Cousin Felicity" again.

Her laces and diamonds of the evening before seemed a dream, though her dress was dainty enough, much finer in quality than the very homely attire in which Clodagh had first seen her. It was a gown of flowered chintz, of the delicate colouring and excellent material that one now and again finds treasured among family relics – such as "my great-grandmother's" or even "great-great-grandmother's dresses." And the skirt was drawn through the pocket-holes in the orthodox old-fashioned way, showing the pink cotton petticoat and the neat little high-heeled shoes. The whole figure, as she stood with her back to the new-comer, was so trim and slim and youthful, that it gave almost a shock to Clodagh when the little lady turned suddenly and she caught sight of the tiny, withered, white face, surmounted by a kind of mob cap, from beneath which escaped a few soft grey curls. Yet it was evident that Cousin Felicity was in very good health and spirits, for she smiled beamingly as she accosted the young girl.

"The top of the morning to you, my dear," she said. "That's your national greeting, is it not? I knew you were not a lie-abed. Well, and how wags the world with you? I have been visiting my friends here, you see. We understand each other, these clever little creatures and I," and she fixed her bright eyes on Clodagh.

For a moment or two Clodagh stood silent. Then a smile broke over her face.

"Madam, lady, what shall I call you?" she exclaimed. "I must say it. I know the truth. You are a fairy. It is you I have to thank for what has been done to help me in the night!"

"Call me what you please, my dear, when we are alone," said the old lady, "but keep what you know, or suspect – rather more than the actual fact, by the bye," she added – "keep it to yourself. I know you are discreet, otherwise I could not be of service to you as I intend to be. Now tell me, child, what are your troubles or anxieties, for some I know you have – "

"I don't feel as if I had any at all this morning," Clodagh interrupted laughingly.

"Ah, well – so much the better, it shows a healthy nature," was the reply. "But, tell me, is that very autocratic young woman, your cousin, good to you? Are you happy to be with her?"

"Yes, yes, truly I am," Clodagh replied eagerly. "That is to say, I feel sure I am going to be so. You see we only met again yesterday, after not having seen each other for several years, not since I have been grown-up. But I must explain. Paulina is very kind. I am sorry she was rude to you yesterday. She was sorry herself afterwards, but she is only quick-tempered and spoilt. She has a kind heart. When my dear grandmother died I should have been homeless, forced to earn my living with strangers, but for her," and by this time Clodagh's eyes were filled with tears.

Cousin Felicity nodded her head slowly, and in a moment or two she spoke again.

"Did you love your Irish home very dearly?" she asked.

"Did I? Do I, rather," the girl replied. "Oh, dear lady, I adore it! But it is mine no longer. It belongs to strangers, it is best for me not to think of it; though I have known all my life that I should have to leave it when Granny left me, I don't think I realised it. That is why I am glad to travel. It is interesting, and takes my thoughts off, to see new places and people. I am glad that Paulina travels so much, if only – " and here she gave a deep sigh.

"Ah, ha," cried the little old lady, but though slightly mocking, her tone was not the least unkindly, "now we are getting to your troubles. What is that deep sigh about?"

"It's my fear that I can't manage things properly for Paulina," said Clodagh, "and if so, I must leave her. She is not very rich. She can't afford to buy me pretty gowns and things, as she means to do, if I cannot save her having a maid. She cannot take two about with her. Oh, it's the luggage! Do you know, yesterday I thought I had lost her jewellery – I'll never forget my horror!"

"Would you like to know how I travel? Shall I show you?" said her new friend.

Clodagh looked at her wonderingly.

"Indeed I would," she said. "But then," she went on, "though I am afraid you do not like me to say it, I know you are a – "

"S-sh. Never mind about that. Come with me," was the reply.

It was still very early. No one was about. Cousin Felicity took the girl's hand and turned to re-enter the house by a different way from that by which Clodagh had come. But before doing so, she stopped a moment and waved her tiny hand as if in adieu to the beehive.

"Thanks many," her companion heard her murmur. "You did your work well last night," and to Clodagh she went on, with a twinkle in her bright eyes, "Were you pleased with what you found this morning – the new trunk and all?"

"Pleased!" exclaimed the girl rapturously, "I couldn't believe my eyes. Not that I mind work," she went on, "I think I can soon learn to pack and unpack cleverly. It is the responsibility of all the things, the terror of losing them, that distresses me."

"Yes, yes," said her friend, "I understand. I do not mean to do all your work for you. It is the industrious and active, not the idle and lazy, that" – and here she gave her funny twinkling smile again – "that they help, as all the stories you have heard over the sea always tell. You shall see what I can do, and what you must do yourself."

By this time they had reached a side entrance to the house. The door stood open; a small staircase faced them, up which with wonderful quickness, considering her great age, Cousin Felicity sprang, followed by Clodagh, and crossing a landing, opened the door of a room, inviting the girl to enter with her.

It was a pleasant room; the first impression it made on Clodagh was of whiteness – and exquisite neatness. It matched the little old lady to perfection.

"This is where I always am, when I visit these kind people," she said. "No one ever has this room but myself. And," she went on in a low voice as if speaking to herself, "who, if I tried to tell it, would believe for how many generations it has been appropriated to me?"

Clodagh felt a thrill of awe as she caught the mysterious words. But in another moment Cousin Felicity had turned to her briskly, pointing to a neat, good-sized trunk standing in front of the fireplace.

"That is all my luggage," she announced. "It holds more than Paulina's fine lady's maid would have got into half-a-dozen like it, because I know how to pack. But – look at it well."

Clodagh stared at it obediently.

"Shut your eyes." She did so. Then it seemed to her that she heard a murmur of words.

"Open." Clodagh again obeyed. And this time, stare she did, for – the box was no longer there, it had vanished from view!

She was too astonished to speak.

"Hold out your hand," was the next command.

Cousin Felicity laid something on the outstretched palm. Clodagh gazed at it in amazement and admiration. It was a miniature trunk, evidently of the finest make. Never had she seen such a perfect toy of its kind, and it was an exact facsimile of her strange old friend's substantial box, which a minute before had been standing in front of her in the most matter-of-fact way. It was small – not above a couple of inches in length, and half as much in width and depth, but curiously heavy. It might almost have been a small block of lead, fashioned to represent a Liliputian portmanteau, and still Clodagh stood there staring at it, without speaking.

"That is how I travel," said the mysterious little lady at last. "It contains all my belongings, just as I told you the other – or rather itself in its other proportions – does. See, I slip it in here," and she held out the black hand-bag, or reticule, which the girl had noticed in the coach, and taking the little box from Clodagh she did as she said, "I draw the strings, I hang it over my arm," accompanying her explanations by the appropriate actions, "and there I am, ready to journey from one end of Europe to the other, or farther still, with no anxiety."

Her young protégée lifted her eyes.

"It is too marvellous, too delightful for words!" she exclaimed.

The little old lady smiled graciously.

"I knew you would say so," she replied. "Well, now, I can extend this magical power to you, on two conditions. You must keep the secret, absolutely and entirely, and you must do your own work perfectly. There must be no untidiness or hurry-scurry; you must never leave things behind, or tear or crumple them – if so, your carelessness will bring its own punishment, for it would prevent the spell's working, and even I – fairy or witch as you think me – "

"No, no," Clodagh interrupted eagerly, "not witch. You are too kind and charming to be that."

"Ah, well, we can leave aside the question of what or who I am. The point is what I can do, and what I cannot. And counteract the working or not working of the spell if the rules are broken, is beyond my power."

"But I will keep them," exclaimed Clodagh. "That is to say, I will do my very best to be most neat and methodical. Granny trained me to be neat. And I will keep the secret; that I promise, only– " and her face fell as a sudden idea disconcerted her.

"What?"

"If Paulina suspects anything? If she notices, and thinks there is something strange about it all?"

Cousin Felicity smiled.

"I will see to that. You need not be afraid. If you fulfil your part, you will have no trouble, as regards Paulina or any one else. Come now – I will go with you to your rooms to explain all, before any one is about. But first – close your eyes for a moment. Yes – " and when Clodagh opened them, there stood the trunk again, as she had first seen it!

She followed the old lady down a passage or two, and up some steps, till at the end of the corridor she saw that they were in the part of the house familiar to her. Cousin Felicity stopped in front of the two trunks, Paulina's and Clodagh's new one, standing just outside the doors of their rooms, and glanced at them approvingly. She was just going to speak when the girl touched her on the arm.

"I am afraid," she began timidly, "I am afraid that Paulina may be awake by now, and if she heard us and looked out – ?"

Her friend nodded reassuringly. Then she noiselessly opened the door of the sleeper's room and stepped in, Clodagh close behind her. It was almost dark inside, for Paulina was not one of the people who like to see the dawn gradually creeping up – she always had her blinds drawn down. Still it was light enough for Clodagh to see the mysterious visitor make her way, swiftly and soundlessly, to the side of the bed. Then she stooped over the pretty face lying on the pillow, touched the closed eyelids softly, murmuring something inaudible, then came back to Clodagh waiting near the entrance and led the way outside again, closing the door behind them.

"That is quite safe," she said, smiling. "Have no fears for the present or the future. You will have no difficulties, I assure you. Now – " and she stood before the two closed boxes. "See," she said, "and listen. Whenever you have packed them neatly and perfectly, sure that nothing is forgotten, you lock as usual, deposit the keys safely, then stand in front of each in turn, touch the initials with your fore-finger – you have each three, 'P. O'B.' and 'C. O'B.' – saying slowly and clearly as you do so

 
"One, two, three,
Dwindle, says Felicity.
 

"Then close your eyes for a moment, and you will see – hold, I will show you now. Shut your eyes." Clodagh did so. "Open." She obeyed, and there in front of her lay, so small that at the first moment she scarcely perceived them, two miniature editions of her own and Paulina's trunks, brass nails, letters and all.

"Feel them," said her companion.

Clodagh stooped and picked them up, her eyes sparkling with eagerness. They were heavy, certainly, but less so than the old lady's own one.

"You have a hand-bag?" this personage enquired.

"Oh yes," replied Clodagh, and in a moment she had fetched it. It held the toy trunks perfectly.

"Take them out again," came the order.

"Now," her friend continued, "listen. When you reach your destination, withdraw them from your reticule, place them wherever is most convenient, touch the letters again, beginning with the last, and say this time and – all will be as you desire."

 
"Three, two, one,
Journey's done,
 

She smiled as she spoke.

"You may test it at once," she said. "Place them on the floor. Now – "

 
"Three, two, one,
Journey's done,"
 

repeated Clodagh, touching the letters, as she did so, "B," the last, first. Then she shut her eyes, and when she looked again – yes – there they were, the two neat capacious trunks, as before.

"Oh," she said, with a sigh of delight. "It is too good to be true! How can I thank you?"

But as she looked up, holding out her hands in gratitude, lo and behold – Cousin Felicity had vanished. Glancing round quickly, however, Clodagh fancied she saw a shadow of something disappearing at the turn in the passage. Whether this was so or not, who can say?

"I will thank her again when we meet downstairs," thought the girl, little imagining that this was not to be.

Just then the door behind her opened, and Paulina, her eyes still but half-awake, peeped out.

"Oh, child," she said, "is it late? You up and dressed already! I must hurry."

"There is plenty of time," Clodagh replied. "It is still early."

"How well and bright you look!" Paulina exclaimed. "You must have slept well. So unlike my last travelling companion – that silly Pélagie – not of course, dear, that I mean to compare you with a maid-servant – but the airs she gave herself! She could never sleep the first night in a strange place, nor the last, because she was nervous about the pack – Oh," she broke off, "I see you've got rid of all the old bags and bandboxes. What a good thing! I didn't know you had such a nice sensible trunk, so neat, and just like mine."

"Yes," said the young girl. "It really holds more than I require. I have planned it all, Paulina. You shall never have any trouble about the luggage if you will leave the whole to me."

"I shall only be too thankful to do so," said her cousin lazily. "I think you are a genius, my dear. The way you have arranged my dresses and everything is simply perfection."

Half an hour or so later, the two, summoned by the breakfast gong, made their way downstairs, where most of the family were already assembled, and as the others dropped in, Clodagh looked round eagerly for her new-old friend. But come she did not, and after a short delay Mrs. Marriston turned to her elder daughter.

"Thomasine, my dear," she said. "I think you had better go upstairs to enquire for Cousin Felicity and offer to escort her. I scarcely like to begin breakfast without her, for fear of seeming to lack respect."