Thus, with the blazing castle behind them, and the glowing eastern sky before, they began their journey home. A happy journey to the husbands and wives, parents and children, so lately reunited, but full of sadness to King Brondé and his Lily Queen, mourning for their lost Rosebud!
Let us leave them, now, to find their way back to Long Forest, while we learn how it fares with their child, in the hut of the old woman.
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE AT THE SEA-SHORE.
IF Rupert had known more of this old woman, he certainly would not have left Rosebud in her care. The place where she lived was under the control of a powerful lord, or governor, appointed by the king of that country. This lord had in various parts of his dominions curious little stone cages, very small stone cages, in which he shut up such as offended him; and of one of these our old woman was the keeper. They were very mysterious cages. No one knew where they were, except their owner, their prisoners, and their keepers. The approach to them was hidden. Several of these were placed in an extensive wood, which could be seen from the hut. It was called the Enchanted Wood.
It was called the Enchanted Wood, on account of sounds frequently heard there; sometimes singing, sometimes notes of a musical instrument, and at other times sorrowful moans. The prisoners could, of course, have explained these sounds; but as they were not free to do it, and no one else could or would, it happened that the place obtained the name of the Enchanted Wood. Besides being the keeper of one of these cages, our old woman was friendly with a number of bad characters from whom she received stolen money and jewels, which she hid for them in the cellar beneath her hut. She was a little bent old woman, with thin gray locks about her withered face, and always wore a small blue blanket pinned over her head. Being lame, she never went without her staff.
“What are you crying for?” she said, as Rosebud sat weeping, after Rupert had said good by. “What are you crying for? there, go to bed.” And she pushed open the door of a closet which contained one stool, and one little mattress of straw, and one very small square window.
This was the best she could give Rosebud,—Rosebud, so lately come from the splendid chambers, the velvet cushions, the decorated walls, the lofty ceilings, the soft couches of a palace, where helpful servants were glad to do her bidding, and where, better than all, she was blest with the love of her dear father and mother. Poor little Rosebud! She thought, while crying herself to sleep, that she would gladly live in the hut, could she but see the pale face of her mother bending over her for a good-night kiss, or lay her weary head upon her father’s big shoulder, and feel his arms clasped lovingly around her. But Rosebud had become quite accustomed to crying herself to sleep now, and, being weary from so long a journey, was soon quite unconscious whether she were in a hut or a palace.
The next morning she found that three grandchildren lived with the old woman,—a girl named Bess, another girl named Judy, and a little boy called Grump. She could hear them from her room, quarrelling over their breakfast, calling each other names, while the old woman scolded or beat them with her staff.
Rosebud opened her door and stood among them with that same sweet, innocent look which had already won so many hearts, and spoke to them pleasantly. The children gazed upon her with wonder, their rude voices hushed. It was as if some rare flower had suddenly bloomed out before them, or some sweet song-bird had alighted there!
After breakfast she was ordered to help scour the platters, sand the floor, wash the potatoes, and drive the geese to water, and then to go with the others to pick up drift-wood.