The windfairies, and other tales

by Mary De Morgan

A river ran near the cottage, and by it she would go and sit for hours dabbling her feet in the water, and singing sweet little songs to herself.

Still, in all other ways she was a good, affectionate girl, and did all that her mother told her, and seemed to love both her parents tenderly, and the shepherd’s wife would say to herself, “My only trouble is that when she is grown up, she will want to marry, and leave me, and I shall have to do without her.” Time passed, and the old shepherd died, but his wife and daughter still lived on in the little cottage, and the daughter grew to be a most beautiful young maiden. Her eyes were clear light-blue, like the colour of the far-off sea, but it was difficult to say what was the colour of her hair, save that it was very light, and hung in heavy masses over her brow and shoulders. Once or twice her mother felt sorely frightened about her; it was when spring showers were falling, and the young girl had gone into the little garden in front of the cottage to let the rain fall upon her head and face, as she loved to do, in spite of all her mother could say. Then she began to dance, as she always did when the rain fell, and as she danced the sun came out while the rain was yet falling. Her mother watched her from the cottage-window, but while she watched her it seemed to her as if her daughter was covered with jewels of every colour, clear and bright; they hung around her in chains, and made her look more like a king’s daughter than a shepherd’s girl. “Come in, child, come in,” called the shepherd’s wife, and when the young girl came in the cottage all traces of the jewels had gone, and when her mother upbraided her for going out to dance in the rain, she only answered, “It hurts no one, my mother, and it pleases me, why should you stop me?”

A little way from the cottage on the mountain-side stood an old castle, where formerly the Kings of the land used to come and stay, but which now had not been used for very many years. One day, however, the shepherd’s wife saw great preparations were being made to beautify and adorn it, and she knew that the King and his son were coming to stay there again. Soon after they had arrived, the shepherd’s daughter went down to the river, as was her wont, and sat on the bank, dipping her feet in the ripples. Presently there came up a boat, and it was a grand young man dressed all in velvet and gold who leaned over the side to fish.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” cried the shepherd’s daughter, for she was afraid of no one.

“I am the King’s son,” said he, “and I am coming here to fish. Who are you, and where do you come from, for I have never seen such a beautiful maiden in my life?” and he looked at her and could scarce speak, so beautiful did she seem to him.

“It is cruel to take the fishes out of the water,” cried the shepherd’s daughter, “leave them alone, and come and dance on the bank with me,” and she went under the shade of a large tree, and began to dance, and the King’s son watched her, and again he thought so beautiful a maid there had never been.

“Leave the fishes alone, and come and dance on the bank with me.”

Day after day he came down to the river to fish, and day after day he left the line and tackle to sit and watch the shepherd’s daughter, and each time found her more enchanting. Once he tried to kiss her hand, but she sprang from him and left him sitting in his boat alone. At last a day came when the Prince said to his father, “My father, you want me to wed so that I may have an heir to the throne, but there is only one woman that can ever be my wife, and that is the daughter of the poor woman who lives in the little cottage out yonder.”