Part 6 (2/2)

”Ah, Night Wind,” replied the Spirit doubtfully, ”there is but one dream left, and that is the Little Tree's dream of the future. If we give it to her, you must promise that you will not answer her questions concerning it. For it is a strange dream and will puzzle her greatly.

Will you promise?”

”I promise,” said the Night Wind, and blew upon his way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: From this bag the Night Wind begged a dream for the Little Tree.--_Page 96._]

And after that night, the Little Tree was not lonely or sad. She never became a joyous tree--her youth had been too sorrowful for that--but she was content. Each night, when all the forest filled with creeping shadows, she sang her songs to the Stars, and she came to love the Night Wind dearly. Each night the Little Tree dreamed the dream the Spirits of the Woods had given her, and strange to tell, it was always the same dream. It was such a pleasant, lovely dream that sometimes the Little Tree was puzzled, and wondered whether she really lived in her beautiful dream, and only dreamed that she lived in the forest.

Each night the Little Tree dreamed she floated far away, until she reached a palace which was set on a high hill. Within the palace was a great hall richly hung with silken tapestries and gleaming softly with light that shone from carved crystal bowls. Within this palace hall a great king and his court were seated, and sweet strains of music floated on the breeze. But the strangest thing of all was this: the Little Tree often thought she heard her own songs in this palace hall. She was not sure, but she was greatly puzzled. She knew that she had dwelled always in the forest, and how could she know the music of n.o.ble lords and ladies? Then one night in her dream the Little Tree was startled to hear the sound of her own voice singing the songs she had so often sung to the Stars. She pressed eagerly to the palace window to see within, but because of her branches she could not go very near, and she could not see. Then came the dawn, and her dream floated far away.

All through the day, the Little Tree called again and again to the tall trees and asked them of her curious dream; but, of course, they could not hear her. She waited eagerly to see the daylight fade, and when the Night Wind came, she questioned him:

”Oh, Night Wind,” cried the Little Tree, ”will you tell me of my dream?

I am sure I heard my own voice singing; but how could it be that n.o.ble lords and ladies within that palace hall would listen to me? For am I not the least of little trees?”

But the Night Wind did not tell her truly. He had given his promise that he would not, and so he answered her, saying:

”Now that I do not know, my dear, but though you are indeed the least of little trees, you are the only Little Tree in all this world to me. Of n.o.ble lords and ladies and their ways I know nothing, for do they not shut me from their homes and hearths when I would enter and warm myself?

But now, Little Tree, it grows late; will you not sing for me?”

Thus with the Night Wind and the Stars for company, the Little Tree lived on for many years. From them she learned much wisdom and came to know about the great world which lay beyond the forest, and that all trees would one day go there. And all this time the world was growing older, and the forest was not so silent as it had been in the time when the Little Tree first dwelled there. Sometimes the woodcutter's ax rang out, and the Little Tree would hear a great tree come cras.h.i.+ng down to earth.

”Oh, why must I leave the freedom of the forest and be torn limb from limb in some wretched mill!” cried one of the tall trees, as he fell close by the Little Tree one day.

”Ah,” replied the Little Tree softly, ”you would not wish to dwell forever in this forest, would you? In the world there is much that a great tree may do to bring happiness.”

”Who is it that speaks to me thus gently?” asked the Fallen Tree. ”I do not know the voice, although I thought I knew all trees growing in this forest, for I was among the first trees to grow here.”

”And so was I,” replied the Little Tree. ”Do you not remember the Little Tree that could neither speak nor sing? I am she. For though I am ages and ages old, I am scarcely taller than yonder little fir of ten seasons.”

”In those days we thought you stupid and sulky, Little Tree,” replied the Fallen Tree, ”but by your speech I now can see that we were wrong.

Who has taught you all your wisdom, and have you not been lonely all these years?”

”Indeed, I was very lonely,” said the Little Tree. ”Even after I could sing, it was no better. The flowers and ferns had died, and there was none to hear me or talk to me. One night I wept and wished to die, and the Night Wind, who is of a kind heart, cheered me with words of praise.

Since then I have never been sad, for I have had a lovely dream each night, and I have sung to the Stars.”

But this the Fallen Tree could not believe, and so he answered sharply:

”Now, Little Tree, how can that be? Tall as I was, and high as I stood when I was monarch of this forest, never once could I send my songs to the Stars, although I tried to do so many times. Now surely such a little tree as you could not accomplish what a monarch failed to do! You have learned wisdom without doubt, and you sing very sweetly, I daresay; but take care lest your dreaming lead you in untruthful ways.”

”Oh, pray believe me!” cried the Little Tree. ”Wait only until the twilight comes, and the Night Wind himself will tell you so.”

”More foolish talk!” scoffed the Fallen Tree. ”The Night Wind is but a feeble creature to a monarch of the forest, such as I. When I stood aloft in all my glory, the Night Wind could not bend the smallest twig of mine unless I willed it so.”

”That is true, my friends,” spoke a gentle voice beside them. It was the voice of the Night Wind, for all unknown to them, darkness had fallen.

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