“Don’t be angry, Eric, for what I did in the forest when we met. My heart is sorry.”
“We did not know one another then, Wolf, and I shall never forget that to you I owe my escape.”
“Wolf loves you, and every one here.”
“I am sure you do, Wolf, and I love you. God bless you, Wolf, I must go; farewell!”
And so they parted. But all gathered round Eric, and accompanied him to the boat, blessing the little prince, and wishing him a peaceful and happy journey. Eric thanked them with many smiles and tender words. Darkeye alone went with him into the boat, wondering greatly at the thread, and most of all at the prince, who shone with a beauty that seemed not of this world. The prince landed, but Darkeye knew for many reasons that he could not accompany him in his journey, which he must take alone. Eric landed on the shore, embraced Darkeye, and waving his hand to all on the island, he soon was lost to their sight in the great forest.
A winding pathway, over the ridge of hills, led down to a broad and rapid but smooth river, and on its banks was a royal boat, beautiful to look upon. The thread led into the boat, and though no one was there, Eric entered, and sat on a velvet cushion on which the golden thread laid itself down. No sooner had he gone on board of the boat, than—as if his little foot, when it touched her, had sent her from the shore—she slowly moved into the centre of the channel, and was carried downwards by the current. On she swept on the bosom of that clear stream, between shores adorned with all that could delight the eye—rocks and trees and flowers, with here and there waterfalls, white as snow, from mountain rivulets which poured themselves into the great river. The woods were full of song, and birds with splendid plumage gleamed and flashed amidst the foliage like rainbow hues amidst the clouds.
Eric knew not whither he was being carried, but his heart was sunshine and peace. On and on he swept with the winding stream, until at last darting under a dark archway of brick, and then emerging into light, the boat grounded on a shore of pure white sand, while the thread rose and led him to the land.
No sooner had he stepped on shore and ascended the green bank, than he found himself at the end of a long, broad avenue of splendid old trees, whose tops met in a green arch overhead. The far-off end of the avenue was closed by a great stair of pure white marble steps which ascended to a magnificent castle. Wall rose above wall, and tower over tower. He saw grand flights of stairs, leading from one stately terrace to another, with marble statues, clear gushing fountains, and flower gardens, and every kind of lovely tree. It was his father’s castle at last! He ran on with breathless anxiety and joy. He soon reached it. A large gate was before him, that seemed to be covered with glittering gold. The thread led directly to it. As he reached the door, he saw the thread tied to a golden knocker, shaped like the old cross in the forest. Inscribed over the door were the words, “He that persevereth to the end shall be saved.” And on the knocker, “Knock, and it shall be opened.” He seized the knocker, and the moment it fell, the thread broke and vanished. A crash of music was heard inside. The door opened, and there stood Eric’s father, surrounded by his brothers and sisters; and the beautiful lady was there too, and many, many more to welcome Eric. His father clasped him to his heart, and said, “My son was lost, but is found!”
While all crowded around Eric with his weary feet and torn dress, kept together by his golden band, a chorus was heard singing,—
“Home where the weary rest,