“But what can we do?” Fertram asked. “Better let me go by myself out into the world, and do you return. Then all will be well.”
But Hildur made no answer. Presently she unfolded a square of green cloth.
“Sit on this beside me,” she said.
In a moment they were floating high up in the air. The day wore on. Sometimes they were borne along swiftly by a strong breeze, then a soft gentle wind would come and seem almost to rock them to sleep, till just as the sun was setting, and the sky was one blaze of gold and crimson, Hildur made the cloth descend slowly to the earth again, and they found themselves in a great flowery plain. Magnificent trees shaded it here and there. A beautiful river wound its way gently through luxuriant banks covered with ferns, and in the distance rose the tower of a great city, surmounted by a magnificent castle, standing out distinctly against the sky.
“Fertram,” Hildur said, in a low voice, laying her hand on his arm, “this is your native land. You are the son of the king who once reigned here. Now he has been dead for some years. When you were only a year old, your mother carried you into the beautiful orchard which lies at the foot of the castle, when suddenly a great dragon swooped down, tore you from her arms, and she saw you no more. Your father grieved even more for you than your mother; you were his only child, and the loss preyed upon him, till at length he died of grief. The kingdom will soon have no ruler, for your mother, who hid her grief for your father’s sake, is now pining away, and they fear for her life too. Now, Fertram, you must go to her, tell her your history, and receive the kingdom from her hands.”
“Hildur, dear Hildur, can it be true? Have I really a mother of my own, as you have? It is almost too delightful to believe. Come, let us hasten to her!” cried Fertram.
“No,” Hildur answered; “I must not go with you. You must go alone. But I will remain quietly in that small hut which is under the great tree yonder, until you come for me. But, oh, Fertram,” and she clasped his arm with her two white hands, “remember I am alone in a strange country; do not forget me.”
“Forget you, when you have been everything to me all these years! Hildur, how could I? Such a thing could never happen. I love you better than myself.”
“Yes, I know,” Hildur answered; “but I fear some evil. I know not what.”
Then, to prevent her grandmother’s spells taking effect, she rubbed some salve out of a small box she carried, over his hands and face, and bade him a sorrowful farewell.