Part 20 (2/2)

For each little sprite Is a rhythm of light; And sweet are their lips Like honey-bee's sips!

Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

'Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!

For day has begun, And high is the sun; Now hasten away To your dears and play!

Sing, sing, sea-fairies, sing!'

Bessie Jane held her breath until the music died away in the silver cadence of the morning sea, and the song was still in her ears, so that she was hardly conscious it was finished until she noticed the Small People had risen from the Piskey-stools and were leaving the cliff.

'You aren't going, are you, dear Little People?' she cried, forgetting her shyness in her dismay at their going so soon.

'Yes,' answered one of them. 'I hope you liked our song.'

'I did a terrible lot,' responded Bessie Jane, flus.h.i.+ng to the roots of her pretty brown hair; 'your singing was lovely, and I should like to hear you sing every morning of my life! It was sweeter even than the thrush's song at sunset, I think.'

The Wee Folk were delighted at the child's praise; the small musicians beamed upon her, and the tiny ladies made her a deep curtsey, and then they all disappeared into the cliff.

She waited ever so long, hoping they would appear again and sing another song, but as they did not, she went down the cliff-path to the beach. At the ending of the song, all the sea-fairies had gone out into the bay to join the merry dancers, who were dancing away like a Bobby Griglan, [49] she told herself as she sent her glance over the sunlit waters to where they were. When she stood close to the waves all these little whirligigs came dancing sh.o.r.ewards, until they stopped only a few feet away and gazed at her curiously.

When they found their tongues, which they quickly did, to her great delight they began talking to her. They thanked her for being so kind to their little companion in giving her back to them the day before, and said how glad they were she had repaid the little girl's kindness in lending Bessie Jane her eyes and ears for a night and a day, as they heard she had so much wanted to see the sea-fairies.

'Yes, I did,' replied Bessie Jane, 'and I am awfully grateful to that pretty little dear for the loan of her ears and eyes, but I am afraid it was very selfish of me to get her to lend them.'

'She was very glad to lend them for the time you asked,' the sea-fairies rea.s.sured her--'not only because you did her all that kindness, but because you have been so very good to the poor old Wise Woman, who loves all the Little People, sea-fairies and all,'

they said.

It was a great surprise to Bessie Jane that the fairies should know about her kindness to poor Old Annis; and as she did not like being praised, she turned the conversation, and asked the dear little sea-sprites to tell her all about themselves, and what they did all day long, where they lived, and a hundred and one other questions which the sweet-voiced, sun-beamed little creatures seemed only too pleased to answer.

Amongst other interesting things, they told the child about their work. They said their chief happiness was to do good, and that their special work was to seek out all wounded things and take them down to the bottom of the sea, where they had a Place of Healing, and where they tended with gentle care all the poor, hurt creatures they found, until they were all healed and happy again. Another mission of theirs was to sing requiems over the poor drowned human beings, and to plant sea-lilies and other sea-flowers on their graves.

They were always busy, they told her, and when there was no special work for them to do they busied themselves with games, singing and dancing, and flas.h.i.+ng in and out of the sea to make it beautiful with light. Their special time for merry-making and dancing was at sunset and sunrise, particularly sunset, for then the great sun went down into the sea to s.h.i.+ne upon their lovely gardens, parks, and meadows under the sea where they lived, and where dear little fishes sang instead of birds!

It would fill pages to tell all those little sea-fairies told Bessie Jane, and which they told in such entrancing way that time flew. The tide came in and went out, and was again coming in, and the entranced child did not even notice it, or that the big white sun was wheeling down towards his setting.

A great lane of crimson fire stretched away on the blue-grey water from the outer bay to the horizon, and just as the sea-fairies had finished telling her all the wonders of their life and doings she saw coming towards her down this lane of rich light a tiny carriage in the shape of a scallop-sh.e.l.l, drawn by four little horses, two abreast, and white as sea-spray. As the tiny steeds sped onward and drew near, Bessie Jane saw leaning back in the carriage a sea-fairy with a bandage of red seaweed across her eyes and ears.

When the horses stopped, all the sea-fairies formed themselves in a circle round the carriage, and looked intently at the child on the sh.o.r.e.

As Bessie Jane noted all this, telling herself what handsome horses they were and what an elegant little carriage, and how beautiful it looked on the sun's pathway, a silvery voice, like the twitter of a baby lark low in its nest amongst the heather, piped from the carriage:

'Please give me back my eyes and my ears.'

'What eyes and ears?' asked the child, bewildered, for she had quite forgotten that she had got the sea-fairy's eyes and ears.

'Why, my own dear little eyes and ears that I lent you for a night and a day,' piped the sweet voice again.

'Must I give them back?' asked Bessie Jane.

'Indeed you must,' said the fairy. 'I have missed them oh so much! No beautiful vision have I seen, no lovely sounds have I heard, since I lent them to you yesterday afternoon. I waited until the sun had put on his flame-coloured robe before coming for them.'

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