CHAPTER X.
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.
ONE night Rosebud was awakened in the middle of the night by the moon shining full in her face; and, while lying there awake, she heard a noise of some one moving in the next room. Presently the outer door shut, and the footsteps were heard outside.
Rosebud sprang to her little window, and saw the old woman hobbling away quite fast, and carrying a lighted lantern.
Now Rosebud had, besides a whole heart full of love, two other things very good in their place, namely, great curiosity and great courage. The first of these caused her to wonder why granny should carry a lighted lantern on such a bright night, and the second to follow and find out for herself.
Throwing an old cloak about her, she hastened out, and caught sight of the old woman disappearing over the brow of a hill. Running quite fast, she gained the top, and saw granny with her cane fast crossing the meadow beyond.
After the meadow came another hill, then a hollow, then still another hill very steep, and then a wide strip of barren land called “The Plains.” Beyond this was the Enchanted Wood. And it was towards this Wood that the old woman directed her steps,—Rosebud following not far behind, her little bare feet never heeding the stones.
But very suddenly granny disappeared. It seemed to Rosebud that the old woman must have sunk into the earth. She came to the very spot where the flutter of her blue blanket had a moment before been seen, but could find no trace of her. It was very near the edge of the wood. But granny could not have entered, for just there the thicket was thorny and tangled, and not even the crack of a twig or the rustle of a leaf had Rosebud heard.
“I am very far from home,” thought the little girl, looking round, “and in the middle of the night too. But is not the moonlight as safe as the sunlight? It is surely much prettier.”
Everything was quiet. The trees seemed holding their branches still for the moon to shine upon them. How they glistened in its rays! only stirring a very little now and then, with a rustle, whispering softly, just to tell what pretty things some passing zephyr had said to them.
But it suddenly occurred to Rosebud that granny might reach home by some other way, and find her room empty. “I will go now,” she thought, “and return in the morning.”
At the hut all was just as she had left it. She crept softly into bed, and resolved to lie awake until granny’s return, but long before daylight was sound asleep.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, and the old woman had taken her staff, pinned on her blue blanket, and hobbled off, Rosebud, without telling Bess or Judy, or even Myrtle,—lest he persuade her to remain at home,—hastened away over hills and plains, until she came to the edge of the Enchanted Wood, where on the night before granny had so suddenly vanished.
While looking about in search of some hidden cavern or grotto, she saw lovely flowers growing among the bushes. These were charming, and would make fine nosegays or most lovely garlands.
She entered the Wood and rambled on and on, taking any path which offered, and while plucking the lovely flowers, and also the purple berries, forgot that the hours were flying so swiftly; and when at last she became weary, and would have returned, there appeared no way of getting from the Wood. Many paths were tried, but all in vain; and at length, overcome with fatigue, she sank down upon a mossy bank to rest.
But she was hardly seated before she heard, not far off, a voice singing. It was a young girl’s voice, very sweet, but full of sadness.
Looking in the direction of the voice, Rosebud saw, a few yards from her, what seemed to be a pile of rocks surrounded by trees. She stepped softly that way. When quite near, some one spoke—some young girl—in gentle tones, and said, “What do you seek, little one?”
“Only to know who sang so sweetly,” replied Rosebud, faintly.
“And if you knew,” said the voice, “would you, if you could, do the singer a service?”
“O yes,” cried Rosebud, “and with all my heart. But I am only a little girl,—only Rosebud, that lives in a little hut upon the sands, with Bess, and Judy, and Myrtle, and our poor lame granny.”
“Does your granny wear a blue blanket?” asked the voice; “and is she a little deaf? and does she mutter to herself, and carry a staff?”
“How did you know all that?” asked Rosebud.
“Your granny is the keeper of my cage,” replied the voice. “She comes by night to bring food for me and my little maid. Come near, Rosebud; you need not be afraid. I am only a young maiden, not so very much bigger than yourself. My uncle is lord of the land here, but not so powerful as my father, my brave father, who has now gone to the wars; for he is king, and rules over the whole country. O, he was loving and kind, and gave to me jewels and fine clothes in plenty! But, ah! he will not let me have my true love till one, two, three years have passed over my head. Yet I can tell you that I am already very old.
“And, Rosebud, before going to the wars he sent me to visit my uncle, that I might forget my true love. And my uncle is a wicked, cruel man, and a tyrant over me; but I am proud and defy him. He persuades my father, in his letters, that I am bad, and will be glad to make him believe this of me. Were I to die, would he grieve for it? Not at all; for then he would inherit the kingdom. I sought to escape, and that is why I am here, although he says it is that I may forget. Is this a place to forget? O no. For what says the song?
“But I will escape from here,” she said, suddenly ceasing her song. “I will flee to my native home; for there are those who will be my guides when once at liberty. And you will do me a service, Rosebud, as you promised?”
“O yes, indeed!” cried Rosebud; “but how? Where is the door? Where is your little maid? What is your name?”
“My name is Bertha. My little maid is asleep. There is no door,—at least not here. At the edge of the Wood is a mossy gray rock. Behind this rock is a flat stone. Beneath that stone commences the long underground passage which will lead you here. But have you courage?”
“O yes!” cried Rosebud, with eagerness; “I will come instantly!”
“That,” said Bertha, “you cannot do. Listen now, while I give you instructions. Do you fear the night?”
“No, pretty Bertha,” said Rosebud. “For me the night is often more beautiful than the day. I walked behind my granny, last night, a long way in the moonlight, and was not afraid.”
And Rosebud then related to Bertha what had happened, and how she had followed the old woman.
“Ah, I see that you have courage!” said Bertha; “you will not fail me. But why do you say ‘pretty Bertha’? I can see you, little Rosebud, for there are holes pierced in the rock to let in the light of day, and through one of these I see your face, and a charming face it is; but I am hid from you.”
“But your voice is pretty,” said Rosebud.
“Do you think that?” asked Bertha; “listen, then, to it, while it instructs you what to do.
“Follow the old woman when she comes at night to the Wood. Watch when she lifts the stone, then follow her through the entrance. Mind the stairs. Ten steep stairs. A false step there would throw you down and spoil everything. Once at the bottom, keep close behind your old granny,—it is well for us she is a little deaf,—until she stops at an iron door. Then look narrowly to see from whence she takes the heavy brass key. No more can be done then. Make your way home as quickly as you may, lest she turn and discover you. Does little Rosebud understand thus far?”
“Yes,” said Rosebud, “I am to learn where the great brass key is kept.”
“Exactly,” said Bertha. “Now listen again. When next the old woman goes to the town, you must hasten to the Wood, remove the flat stone, and enter the passage, find your way through, unlock the iron door,—you will know where the key is kept,—then keep on still farther until you come to a second iron door, then call, ‘Bertha!’ and I will answer. Then, Rosebud, I and my little maid will be free, and shall fly far from here!”
“But where?” asked Rosebud. “Will you not be discovered? and will not your bad uncle punish you?”
“Never fear that!” cried Bertha. “Are there no boats? We can manage an oar.
“Yes, little Rosebud, a boat! Are there no boats upon the shore?”
“Many boats,” said Rosebud. “O, very many boats!”
“All will then be well,” said Bertha. “My father taught me to row, and to ride, and to hunt, and to aim the bow. We shall reach our native home, for with gold can be bought a trusty guide. All will go well. And now, sweet Rosebud, farewell. Be cautious, but at the same time be brave. Tell no one what has happened to-day. Adieu!”
Rosebud promised most faithfully, then bade adieu to Bertha, and ran hastily along the first path which offered; but soon found herself again bewildered among thickets of tangled vines and thorny bushes, through which no way seemed to open.
Still it was a pleasant spot. Flowering shrubs were growing there, and berries in plenty. A little brook fell over some rocks near by, and Rosebud stooped to drink of its waters. Squirrels ran nimbly up the trees, peeping out with their bright eyes from among the leaves. While watching these, as they hopped so nimbly from bough to bough, she perceived, sitting upon the lower branch of a tree, a fine-feathered bird, seemingly so tame that she stepped nearer to examine its bright wings. But on her approach it flew slowly to the next tree; and then, as Rosebud followed, it again flew, and alighted on a tall bush, a little farther on.
“Bird, I must have you!” cried Rosebud; “and Myrtle must make for you a cage, a painted cage! O you pretty bird! You fine-feathered bird! Ah, you stop! You are not afraid! Come, now!” And she reached forward, hand extended, to grasp it.
But the bird still flew a little farther, and a little farther, now in this direction, now in that, and she was upon the point of giving it up altogether, when it began to sing so charmingly!
“O, now I cannot leave you!” she cried. And so kept on and on, until she felt at last that the power of turning away from it was gone, and that, wherever the bird led, there must she follow.
A long while he flew, and most charmingly he sang the while. But Rosebud grew very weary, and was about to sink down upon the grass in despair of ever again finding her way home, when, looking around her, she found herself quite near the spot where she had entered the Wood in the morning.
“And now, fair bird, won’t you go home with me?” she cried; but the fine-feathered bird had flown.
Rosebud then searched out the mossy gray rock and the flat stone, which she found herself quite able to move.
But it was now long past noon.
“I must wait no longer,” she said, “for Bess and Judy and Myrtle will be wondering what has befallen me.”
Arrived home, she was greeted with joy by Myrtle, and with endless questions from all. To which her only answer was, that she had found berries in plenty, also lovely flowers, and had seen a fine-feathered bird which sang sweetly.