Kabanata Kabanata 17 · Springtime

. Springtime

The spring so dear to all creatures, young and old, came at last, and

before the first few days of it had gone, the king rode through its

budding valleys to see his little daughter. He had been in a distant

part of his dominions all the winter, for he was not in the habit of

stopping in one great city, or of visiting only his favourite country

houses, but he moved from place to place, that all his people might

know him. Wherever he journeyed, he kept a constant look-out for the

ablest and best men to put into office; and wherever he found himself

mistaken, and those he had appointed incapable or unjust, he removed

them at once. Hence you see it was his care of the people that kept

him from seeing his princess so often as he would have liked. You may

wonder why he did not take her about with him; but there were several

reasons against his doing so, and I suspect her great-great-grandmother

had had a principal hand in preventing it. Once more Irene heard the

bugle-blast, and once more she was at the gate to meet her father as he

rode up on his great white horse.

After they had been alone for a little while, she thought of what she

had resolved to ask him.

'Please, king-papa,' she said, 'Will you tell me where I got this

pretty ring? I can't remember.'

The king looked at it. A strange beautiful smile spread like sunshine

over his face, and an answering smile, but at the same time a

questioning one, spread like moonlight over Irene's. 'It was your

queen-mamma's once,' he said.

'And why isn't it hers now?' asked Irene.

'She does not want it now,' said the king, looking grave.

'Why doesn't she want it now?'

'Because she's gone where all those rings are made.'

'And when shall I see her?' asked the princess.

'Not for some time yet,' answered the king, and the tears came into his

eyes.

Irene did not remember her mother and did not know why her father

looked so, and why the tears came in his eyes; but she put her arms

round his neck and kissed him, and asked no more questions.

The king was much disturbed on hearing the report of the

gentlemen-at-arms concerning the creatures they had seen; and I presume

would have taken Irene with him that very day, but for what the

presence of the ring on her finger assured him of. About an hour

before he left, Irene saw him go up the old stair; and he did not come

down again till they were just ready to start; and she thought with

herself that he had been up to see the old lady. When he went away he

left other six gentlemen behind him, that there might be six of them

always on guard.

And now, in the lovely spring weather, Irene was out on the mountain

the greater part of the day. In the warmer hollows there were lovely

primroses, and not so many that she ever got tired of them. As often

as she saw a new one opening an eye of light in the blind earth, she

would clap her hands with gladness, and unlike some children I know,

instead of pulling it, would touch it as tenderly as if it had been a

new baby, and, having made its acquaintance, would leave it as happy as

she found it. She treated the plants on which they grew like birds'

nests; every fresh flower was like a new little bird to her. She would

pay visits to all the flower-nests she knew, remembering each by

itself. She would go down on her hands and knees beside one and say:

'Good morning! Are you all smelling very sweet this morning?

Good-bye!' and then she would go to another nest, and say the same. It

was a favourite amusement with her. There were many flowers up and

down, and she loved them all, but the primroses were her favourites.

'They're not too shy, and they're not a bit forward,' she would say to

Lootie.

There were goats too about, over the mountain, and when the little kids

came she was as pleased with them as with the flowers. The goats

belonged to the miners mostly-a few of them to Curdie's mother; but

there were a good many wild ones that seemed to belong to nobody.

These the goblins counted theirs, and it was upon them partly that they

lived. They set snares and dug pits for them; and did not scruple to

take what tame ones happened to be caught; but they did not try to

steal them in any other manner, because they were afraid of the dogs

the hill-people kept to watch them, for the knowing dogs always tried

to bite their feet. But the goblins had a kind of sheep of their

own--very queer creatures, which they drove out to feed at night, and

the other goblin creatures were wise enough to keep good watch over

them, for they knew they should have their bones by and by.