Uncle Joe's Stories

Dost thou love the woodland shade?
Would'st thou in the forest dwell,
Ever haunt the Fairy dell,
Ever leave thy former self,
And remain a woodland elf?
Wish – and thou hast power to be
Thing as wild, from earth as free,
As the Elf who speaks to thee!
Wish it not! – then count the cost —
To the Fairies thou art lost,
Never more in forest wild
Shalt thou act the elfin child;
Never, free from mortal care,
Flit on elf-wings through the air:
Scorning bolt, or bar, or lock,
Till the crowing of the cock
Summon back thy mates and thee
To moss-couches 'neath the tree.
Form thy wish, then, maiden dear,
None shall dare to interfere!"

As the fairy queen spoke, Philip listened with great attention, with some concern, and no little indignation. Her voice was very sweet and pleasant; the picture she drew of the forest life of an elf was by no means disagreeable, and as he gathered from her words that Evelyn had already tasted of its delights, he was apprehensive of the effect which this temptation still to share it might possibly have. He felt, moreover, that as he had honestly fulfilled his part of the bargain, it would be palpably unfair if he got nothing by it, except the knowledge that his sister was a fairy, which would be but a very small consolation to the people at home. So he thought he had better strike in and tell his opinion at once, which he did in the following way: —

"I say!" he cried, "this is not fair. I was to come here to-night and have my second boon – and I have said what it is. It will be no end of a shame if you don't give me back my sister. In fact, you promised it yesterday; and no fellow can stand being made to hold his tongue and eat nothing but bread and water for the best part of a day and a half, and then be sold after all. Come! I say! this won't do at all, you know!"

The fairy listened to him with great politeness, and at once replied to his remarks, —

"I bade thee come by light of moon
If thou would'st crave a second boon.
I bade thee come: and thou art here,
A faithful brother, void of fear;
And thou hast kept conditions two,
Such as had been observed by few.
Yet – ere you blame my words, good youth,
Be moderate, and hear the truth.
When maids or youths o'er fairy lore
Attentively are wont to pore,
Their hearts 'twould mightily surprise
To see how oft our elfin eyes
See, and rejoice to see, them read
Of many a magic Fairy deed.
And when such youth or maiden list
To say that Fairies do exist,
We love them passing well, forsooth,
Because that they believe the truth.
So, when beneath our woodland shade
There wanders tender youth or maid,
On certain spot – at certain hours —
Our might avails to make them ours.
And when, resisting not herself,
A Maiden once becomes an elf,
Dares from her mortal form t' escape,
And roam the world in Elfin shape,
Unless it be by her free will,
She must remain an Elfin still.
'Tis true: the words of power have might
To force us into mortal sight,
And, tho' in elfin garment drest,
A mortal maid must stand confest
To eyes of him who once has known
And said these words – to him alone.
Thy sister, then, thine eyes have seen,
But I, thy sister's Fairy queen,
Have right to counsel and persuade
Her – who is half a woodland maid —
And should she wish it, she must stay
Beneath my loving Fairy sway.
If so – kind youth, oh! ne'er repine,
Or envy this success of mine;
Her fate for ever light and free
From mortal grief, will happy be,
For mortal sin and human woe,
Thenceforward she shall never know!"

As the fairy queen spoke these words, many thoughts passed rapidly through the mind of the boy. He saw at once that the victory was not yet so entirely won as he had supposed, and that people could not change to and fro between mortal and fairy form as quickly as they pleased. Of course he had not known his sister's fate until the fairy queen uttered these rhymes, and even now he was left somewhat in the dark. Besides, as you will recollect, the excellent elfin had not told him the exact truth after all, because she led him distinctly to infer that Evelyn had become one of the elves by her own consent and free will, whereas we know perfectly well that she had no intention of becoming anything of the kind, and that as to "resisting not herself," she had no idea that resistance would do any good, and if she had thought so, would not have known in what way to resist, when the fern leaf was waved over her head, and she began to be sensible of the magic charm which came over her.

It is quite true that she had taken kindly to the life of an elf, but it was certainly hardly fair to let her brother suppose she had become one by choice. This, however, was not a point upon which he was at all troubled. For one instant he doubted whether, if she were really so happy, it would be doing her a real kindness to take her away from the fairies. But it was only for an instant. He felt sure that she must be under some charm which prevented her declaring her own sentiments, and therefore he did not at once put the question to her.

But he remembered to have read in various books concerning elves and fairies, that though they are a very interesting part of creation, they are in some respects inferior to mankind, and that they are a kind of being existing entirely and for ever in their present condition, with no soul and with no such future as that for which Christian men and women hope. Therefore, according to this view, his sister's condition would be materially changed for the worse if she remained an elf, and it was his duty, if possible, to prevent it. Moreover, his father and mother had some claim to be considered; and he could not help thinking that if Evelyn was a free agent and could say what she thought, felt, and wished, she would not only promptly recognise that claim, but would long to rejoin the parents of whom she was so devotedly fond. He thought, perhaps, also of the mutual affection which had so long existed between his sister and himself; but I will do him the justice to say that I do not think he would have wished her back if he had been satisfied that it would be best for her own happiness that she should stay where she was.

All these thoughts flashed through Philip's mind during the fairy's speech, and by the time it was ended he had quite made up his mind what to do. He looked firmly – though not unkindly – at the little lady, and then, turning to his sister, he said in a loud, clear, steady voice, —

"Evelyn, I wish you to come to me and we will go home together."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a long, low wailing sound arose on all sides of him, as if the little beings of the glade were bemoaning an affliction which they saw preparing for them and had no power to prevent. It hung in the air for a few seconds, and then died away in mournful cadence among the trees.

Meanwhile the effect of Philip's words upon his sister were immediate and wonderful. She threw back her head, rubbed her eyes again, looked first to the right and then to the left, and then stepped straight forward for a couple of yards, and stopped, just as if somebody was trying to hold her back. I suppose that she was too big to be held back by the little elves, since she had resumed her old mortal form at the first summons of her brother; but I also suppose from this circumstance that they tried to keep her, and she always said afterwards, that soft musical voices were in her ears, telling her of the joys of fairy-land and the happiness of the little elves, and begging her not to leave their merry party who had loved her so well.

Philip, observing her apparent hesitation, deemed it quite necessary to take forthwith another and a more decided step. Elevating his voice a little, and speaking in a very firm tone, he said:

"Come along, Evelyn dear, pray do not dawdle any longer. I wish you would come directly. By jingo, we shall hardly be in time for tea!"

The words were scarcely spoken, when the same mournful sound arose, even more piteous than before, and rang through the evening stillness with a melancholy cadence which might have melted the hardest heart, so much did it convey of real sorrow. But at the same moment all attempts to retain Evelyn ceased – her natural look, colour, and manner seemed suddenly to have returned, and she bounded into the magic circle, and ran into her brother's arms.

"Oh, Philip dear!" she cried. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you for such a time! How nice it is to have you at home again!"

The brother returned her affectionate caresses, and reminding her of the lateness of the hour, said that they must return home at once. He purposely forebore to say anything of what had recently occurred, not knowing what the consequences might be, either to his sister or himself, and putting his arm tenderly round her waist, began to leave the glade, calling Pincher to follow him. They had not moved many yards forward, however, before low strains of sweet music were heard behind them, and turning round, they saw the form of the fairy queen, who was gazing after them with a look of mingled tenderness and regret. She gracefully waved her hand to them as they retreated, and in her own sweet voice thus addressed them:

"Farewell! ye mortal children twain,
Perchance we ne'er may meet again;