Chapter Chapter 16 · The Ring

--Irene could not tell what.

'Give me your hand,' she said. Irene held up her right hand.

'Yes, that is the hand I want,' said the lady, and put the ring on the

forefinger of it.

'What a beautiful ring!' said Irene. 'What is the stone called?'

'It is a fire-opal.'

'Please, am I to keep it?'

'Always.'

'Oh, thank you, grandmother! It's prettier than anything I ever saw,

except those--of all colours-in your--Please, is that your crown?'

'Yes, it is my crown. The stone in your ring is of the same sort--only

not so good. It has only red, but mine have all colours, you see.'

'Yes, grandmother. I will take such care of it! But--' she added,

hesitating.

'But what?' asked her grandmother.

'What am I to say when Lootie asks me where I got it?'

'You will ask her where you got it,' answered the lady smiling.

'I don't see how I can do that.'

'You will, though.'

'Of course I will, if you say so. But, you know, I can't pretend not

to know.'

'Of course not. But don't trouble yourself about it. You will see

when the time comes.'

So saying, the lady turned, and threw the little ball into the rose

fire.

'Oh, grandmother!' exclaimed Irene; 'I thought you had spun it for me.'

'So I did, my child. And you've got it.'

'No; it's burnt in the fire!'

The lady put her hand in the fire, brought out the ball, glimmering as

before, and held it towards her. Irene stretched out her hand to take

it, but the lady turned and, going to her cabinet, opened a drawer, and

laid the ball in it.

'Have I done anything to vex you, grandmother?' said Irene pitifully.

'No, my darling. But you must understand that no one ever gives

anything to another properly and really without keeping it. That ball

is yours.'

'Oh! I'm not to take it with me! You are going to keep it for me!'

'You are to take it with you. I've fastened the end of it to the ring

on your finger.'

Irene looked at the ring.

'I can't see it there, grandmother,' she said.

'Feel--a little way from the ring--towards the cabinet,' said the lady.

'Oh! I do feel it!' exclaimed the princess. 'But I can't see it,' she

added, looking close to her outstretched hand.

'No. The thread is too fine for you to see it. You can only feel it.

Now you can fancy how much spinning that took, although it does seem

such a little ball.'

'But what use can I make of it, if it lies in your cabinet?'

'That is what I will explain to you. It would be of no use to you--it

wouldn't be yours at all if it did not lie in my cabinet. Now listen.

If ever you find yourself in any danger--such, for example, as you were

in this same evening--you must take off your ring and put it under the

pillow of your bed. Then you must lay your finger, the same that wore

the ring, upon the thread, and follow the thread wherever it leads you.'

'Oh, how delightful! It will lead me to you, grandmother, I know!'

'Yes. But, remember, it may seem to you a very roundabout way indeed,

and you must not doubt the thread. Of one thing you may be sure, that

while you hold it, I hold it too.'

'It is very wonderful!' said Irene thoughtfully. Then suddenly

becoming aware, she jumped up, crying:

'Oh, grandmother! here have I been sitting all this time in your chair,

and you standing! I beg your pardon.'

The lady laid her hand on her shoulder, and said:

'Sit down again, Irene. Nothing pleases me better than to see anyone

sit in my chair. I am only too glad to stand so long as anyone will

sit in it.'

'How kind of you!' said the princess, and sat down again.

'It makes me happy,' said the lady.

'But,' said Irene, still puzzled, 'won't the thread get in somebody's

way and be broken, if the one end is fast to my ring, and the other

laid in your cabinet?'

'You will find all that arrange itself. I am afraid it is time for you

to go.'

'Mightn't I stay and sleep with you tonight, grandmother?'

'No, not tonight. If I had meant you to stay tonight, I should have

given you a bath; but you know everybody in the house is miserable

about you, and it would be cruel to keep them so all night. You must go

downstairs.'

'I'm so glad, grandmother, you didn't say "Go home," for this is my

home. Mayn't I call this my home?'

'You may, my child. And I trust you will always think it your home.

Now come. I must take you back without anyone seeing you.'

'Please, I want to ask you one question more,' said Irene. 'Is it

because you have your crown on that you look so young?'

'No, child,' answered her grandmother; 'it is because I felt so young

this evening that I put my crown on. And I thought you would like to

see your old grandmother in her best.'

'Why do you call yourself old? You're not old, grandmother.'

'I am very old indeed. It is so silly of people--I don't mean you, for

you are such a tiny, and couldn't know better--but it is so silly of

people to fancy that old age means crookedness and witheredness and

feebleness and sticks and spectacles and rheumatism and forgetfulness!

It is so silly! Old age has nothing whatever to do with all that. The

right old age means strength and beauty and mirth and courage and clear

eyes and strong painless limbs. I am older than you are able to think,

and--'

'And look at you, grandmother!' cried Irene, jumping up and flinging

her arms about her neck. 'I won't be so silly again, I promise you.

At least--I'm rather afraid to promise--but if I am, I promise to be

sorry for it--I do. I wish I were as old as you, grandmother. I don't

think you are ever afraid of anything.'

'Not for long, at least, my child. Perhaps by the time I am two

thousand years of age, I shall, indeed, never be afraid of anything.

But I confess I have sometimes been afraid about my children--sometimes

about you, Irene.'

'Oh, I'm so sorry, grandmother! Tonight, I suppose, you mean.'

'Yes--a little tonight; but a good deal when you had all but made up

your mind that I was a dream, and no real great-great-grandmother. You

must not suppose I am blaming you for that. I dare say you could not

help it.'

'I don't know, grandmother,' said the princess, beginning to cry. 'I

can't always do myself as I should like. And I don't always try. I'm

very sorry anyhow.'

The lady stooped, lifted her in her arms, and sat down with her in her

chair, holding her close to her bosom. In a few minutes the princess

had sobbed herself to sleep. How long she slept I do not know. When

she came to herself she was sitting in her own high chair at the

nursery table, with her doll's house before her.

Chapter 16. The Ring

The same moment her nurse came into the room, sobbing. When she saw

her sitting there she started back with a loud cry of amazement and

joy. Then running to her, she caught her in her arms and covered her

with kisses.

'My precious darling princess! where have you been? What has happened

to you? We've all been crying our eyes out, and searching the house

from top to bottom for you.'

'Not quite from the top,' thought Irene to herself; and she might have

added, 'not quite to the bottom', perhaps, if she had known all. But

the one she would not, and the other she could not say. 'Oh, Lootie!

I've had such a dreadful adventure!' she replied, and told her all

about the cat with the long legs, and how she ran out upon the

mountain, and came back again. But she said nothing of her grandmother

or her lamp.

'And there we've been searching for you all over the house for more

than an hour and a half!' exclaimed the nurse. 'But that's no matter,

now we've got you! Only, princess, I must say,' she added, her mood

changing, 'what you ought to have done was to call for your own Lootie

to come and help you, instead of running out of the house, and up the

mountain, in that wild, I must say, foolish fashion.'

'Well, Lootie,' said Irene quietly, 'perhaps if you had a big cat, all

legs, running at you, you might not exactly know what was the wisest

thing to do at the moment.'

'I wouldn't run up the mountain, anyhow,' returned Lootie.

'Not if you had time to think about it. But when those creatures came

at you that night on the mountain, you were so frightened yourself that

you lost your way home.'

This put a stop to Lootie's reproaches. She had been on the point of

saying that the long-legged cat must have been a twilight fancy of the

princess's, but the memory of the horrors of that night, and of the

talking-to which the king had given her in consequence, prevented her

from saying what after all she did not half believe--having a strong

suspicion that the cat was a goblin; for she knew nothing of the

difference between the goblins and their creatures: she counted them

all just goblins.

Without another word she went and got some fresh tea and bread and

butter for the princess. Before she returned, the whole household,

headed by the housekeeper, burst into the nursery to exult over their

darling. The gentlemen-at-arms followed, and were ready enough to

believe all she told them about the long-legged cat. Indeed, though

wise enough to say nothing about it, they remembered, with no little

horror, just such a creature amongst those they had surprised at their

gambols upon the princess's lawn.

In their own hearts they blamed themselves for not having kept better

watch. And their captain gave orders that from this night the front

door and all the windows on the ground floor should be locked

immediately the sun set, and opened after upon no pretence whatever.

The men-at-arms redoubled their vigilance, and for some time there was

no further cause of alarm.

When the princess woke the next morning, her nurse was bending over

her. 'How your ring does glow this morning, princess!--just like a

fiery rose!' she said.

'Does it, Lootie?' returned Irene. 'Who gave me the ring, Lootie? I

know I've had it a long time, but where did I get it? I don't

remember.'

'I think it must have been your mother gave it you, princess; but

really, for as long as you have worn it, I don't remember that ever I

heard,' answered her nurse.

'I will ask my king-papa the next time he comes,' said Irene.