“How, a burden or a blessing?” asked the mortal.
“That again will depend on yourself; according to what you see in your travels will your past seem to you on your return.”
“But you said I should see all.”
“You will have the power of seeing all, yet you will only see that which you care to look upon.” As the Frost King spoke, he advanced and touched the mortal’s brow with his finger. While he did so there glided beneath the old man’s feet a silver cloud-car, which instantly enveloped him and carried him away from the ice-clad border with the swiftness of a sea-gull. Amazement grew upon him as he felt himself borne away and no visible thing in view. Then remembering what the Spirit had said, he exclaimed aloud, “Can I not see what is about me?”
The words were hardly uttered when he perceived that he was the occupant of a gorgeous conveyance drawn by a team of butterflies, with a lovely child seated therein driving them. Wonderful indeed the delicate tints and shades which the moonbeams had woven in her robes. Still more wondrous [[268]]the blended purity and beauty of her face. Exquisitely, deliciously soft and musical the voice that addressed him in accents like the soft south wind, wooing the trees at summer’s eventide.
“Welcome, Sir Mortal. Welcome to Elfland.”
“Dear child, art thou a fairy?” he cried in surprise.
“ ‘I AM QUEEN OF THE BUTTERFLIES,’ SHE REPLIED.”
“Yes! My name is Rubywings,” she answered, with a beaming smile.