her first inquiry and constant desire was for 'Miss Milly, my dear Miss Milly.' 'But how can you go to-day, my dear?' the Squire asked when he had told her this. 'Bertie will be expecting you; in fact, it is time now that we were off to the fête.' tears. 'Oh no, no, papa!' Milly exclaimed, her eyes full of 'I couldn't go. I should be thinking all the time that dear old Nannie was wanting me, and I should be miserable; so please let me go to her at once. You and mamma must go to the fête, and send the carriage back for me, and if she is better I can come then.' After some hesitation the Squire consented to this plan, and Milly set off at once for the cottage. She begged to be allowed to go without waiting for the pony carriage to be got ready, and her father had not the heart to refuse her, seeing how anxious she was. It was now twelve o'clock, and the heat was intense. Milly had a long way to go, on an open road where was no shelter, and at the end of her hot dusty journey, she had to toil up the steep hill on which the nurse's cottage stood. But she thought not of heat and fatigue, and so anxious was she to reach her old friend, that she traversed the distance in far less time than she usually gave to the journey. Milly thought herself amply rewarded for her promptitude when she reached the bedside of her dear old nurse, and saw the bright look of pleasure and peaceful content, which replaced the look of watchful anxiety she had seen there as she entered. The old woman lay looking at her as if the happiness of gazing at her was quite sufficient to her, as she murmured every now and then, 'My dear child, my little pet.' Milly sat down by the bedside and took the wrinkled hand in hers, and by-and-by the whispered words ceased, and the old woman sank into a deep sleep as calm and peaceful as an infant's dreamless slumber. Milly sat motionless, afraid to move lest she should disturb the rest, which the doctor had said would be the saving of the life she held so dear. Time went on, and still old Nannie slept, her hand clasped in Milly's. The carriage came, as the Squire had arranged, to fetch her to the fête, but she silently motioned to the watchers that it must go away, and she remained silent and motionless as before. The summer day was drawing to a close before Nannie woke, and then she only roused sufficiently to take food, and sank again into the same quiet sleep as before. Milly's hand was free now, and seeing the old woman no longer required her, she moved to the open window, and sat there watching the shadows of the closing day, as they stole among the trees which surrounded the little cottage in the wood. As she sat there, the intense stillness around her was broken by the chirp of a bird which sounded close to her; a shrill piercing little note repeated again and again as if it were calling to someone. Milly's attention was attracted to it after it had been several times repeated, and, rising from her chair, she leant out of the window to see if the bird was in any trouble. She looked out into the clustering ivy which framed the little window, and as she did so, the fading sunlight shone full on a lovely white rose which peeped from the dark green masses of the ivy like a silver star. 'What a lovely rose,' said Milly to herself, as she looked at it, and then she saw a little bird quite unfamiliar to her eyes, who sat on the ivy by the rose and continued to utter the little shrill call she had heard before she looked out of the window. 'You beautiful rose, I think I must gather you,' she said at last, reaching out her hand to it. As she said these words, the bird gave several chirps in a delighted tone, quite different to its former anxious call; and when Milly's hand touched the rose, it vanished, and in its place stood the fairy she had seen before, who plucked the rose and gave it to her, saying, 'Happy child of earth, you have won the white rose ; the crown shall be yours;' and then, in sweetest notes, she sang, 'Charity, the queen of virtues, Lends her gentle grace to thee; CHAPTER IX. MILLY'S CROWN. HE fairy vanished, and Milly, worn out with the day's excitement and fatigue, fell asleep, her heart full of grateful joy as she thought of her white rose and of her promised crown. As she slept, a wondrous vision came before her. She was again in Fairyland, in one of the loveliest dells of that all beautiful country, surrounded by richest scenes of wood and water, trees and flowers, distant hills and splashing fountains, canopied overhead by a sky of the clearest, richest blue. As she stood and gazed entranced, lovely music charmed her ear, music which seemed to hover in the air midway between earth and heaven, and looking up, she saw four wondrous beings, whose outspread wings, glistening in the golden sunlight, bore them ever nearer and nearer to her. They were robed in garments of gleaming white, and in their hands they held a crown. of roses, each blossom of which was sparkling with the diamond dew-drops which sprinkled its velvet leaves. As Milly gazed entranced, the forms who bore the chaplet came ever nearer to her, and at last they paused, holding the crown above her head, while they sang, 'Happy child, we come to greet thee, Joyful news to thee we bring, Humble, patient, kind, and true, The flowery crown we give to you.' As they sang the last words, the air seemed full of fairy forms of wondrous beauty, who all joined with the sweet music of their silvery voices, in the happy chorus, 'Humble, patient, kind, and true, THE END. |