Not a loving word she had ever said, not a kind deed she had ever done, not a smile her loving arts had brought to the lips of the dying girl, not a blessing uttered by the mother unconscious to whom she owed the peace and quiet of her daughter's last days; not a fragrant breath from rescued flower, not a song from grateful bird, but added its sweet note to that marvellous song.
Had there been one unkind word, one selfish thought, one cruel deed, the song would have been broken by jarring discords; but all was harmony, not one harsh note disturbed the rippling melody.
As one by one Violet's beautiful secrets were brought to light, the fairies looked on her with loving admiration, but Violet was quite ashamed at being praised so openly, and hid her blushing face on Anenome's shoulder.
When the story of Violet's deeds was ended, and the wild mysterious music had lulled into inarticulate murmuring, the Fairy Queen looked round upon her subjects, and asked once more, "To whom shall I give the fairest crown?"
And all the fairies cried again, more eagerly than ever—
"To Violet! To Violet!"
Then Violet could refuse no longer, but bent gracefully on one knee before the throne, while the Queen placed the crown on her shining hair.
The wonderful music died away into silence, and was never heard again, but the court-minstrel who had listened eagerly to its wild strains, caught the beautiful melody, and repeated it on his harp; and to this day, at fairy-feast and revel, the favourite legend is that which tells how the Fairy Violet lost and won her wings.
