The Village of Youth.

by Bessie Hatton.

"Yet Ah! that Spring should vanish with the Rose!

That Youth's sweet-scented ma.n.u.script should close!"

I.

There was a young King who ought to have been the happiest monarch in the world. He was blessed with everything a mortal could desire. His palace might have been designed by the Divine architect Himself, so perfect was it in all its parts; and it stood amidst gardens with its dependent village at its gates, like a dream of feudal beauty in a story of romance. Notwithstanding his good fortune, the King was oppressed with what he conceived to be a great trouble. From the happy ruler of a happy people he gradually became grave and anxious, as if an intense fear had taken possession of his soul; and so it had. It was the fear of Age. He could no longer bear to meet old people, and eventually grew to hate the h.o.a.ry heads and time-worn faces of his venerable subjects.

He therefore divided his kingdom into two parts. The elders lived in one half of the realm, under the government of his mother, while he was King of the young. Riding, hawking, or sailing along the grey river, he never saw a wrinkled visage. Hence his kingdom was called the Village of Youth.

The King was betrothed to a fair Princess named Rowena. She loved her future husband dearly, though his strange malady and the exodus of the old people from his dominions had clouded her happiness, and made her long for some way of alleviating his suffering.

When the lovers were together they held no gentle, tender discourse.

Uriel would only gaze at his betrothed with mournful eyes, and when she besought him not to be sorrowful he would say, "Sweet lady, how can I be other than I am? Each loving word that falls from thy lips, each sweet smile that plays upon thy face, is as a dagger in my heart; for I remember how soon the bloom of youth will pa.s.s from thy cheeks and the softness from thy lips. Our village, too, will become the Village of Eld, grim with unlovely age."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Interviews of this kind saddened the Princess to such an extent, that while she sat sewing among her women tears would often fall upon the embroidery, and she would be obliged to leave her work.

Among the many fair maidens who attended upon Rowena, the fairest of them all was the Lady Beryl. She grieved sincerely to see her mistress so dejected, and taxed her brain night and day for some plan by which she might save the Village of Youth. With this thought deep in her heart, she rose early one morning and rode away to seek advice from the people who lived in the Village of Eld. It was spring; the gra.s.s was green, the sky was blue. The sunshine gleamed on the maiden's hair and on her dove-coloured garments.

As she rode into the village the inhabitants gathered around her. She found herself in the midst of a crowd of grey-headed men and women, many of whom touched her dress and kissed her hand, while others knelt down and almost worshipped her; she reminded them of their own early days, a sweet personification of the young spring. Beryl lifted up her voice, and said,--

"Dear reverend people, you all know of the sadness of our sovereign and of its cause; and now our dear Princess shares his sorrow. We are ignorant and inexperienced, neither have we any wise men or women to counsel us; therefore I pray you tell me, is there any way to keep our youths and maidens always young, that they may never know age?"

A long wailing cry was heard from the people of the village,--

"There is no way--no way!" One old man, who was bent and tottering, raised his wrinkled face to the maiden's, and said,--

"Spring gives place to summer, and summer to autumn, and autumn to winter. What would you? Age is beautiful; it is a time of peace, of meditation. Youth knows not rest; it is ever striving, fighting, suffering. When age comes upon us we cease to enjoy as keenly as the young, but we cease to suffer as bitterly as they who are in the spring of life. If the scent of the air is less fresh and the voice of the brook is less sweet, why, the thunder clouds are less dark and the storm is robbed of its fury."

Beryl bowed her head and rode away. As she pa.s.sed through the gate an old woman followed her, and whispered these words,--

"An hour before sunset, on the longest day of summer, Time, in his chariot, rides through the Village of Youth. If each year thou canst prevent his doing so, the world will still grow old, but the Village of Youth will remain young for ever."

"Alas, good dame, how can I hope to succeed in this endeavour?"

"Sweet maiden, thou art beautiful, thou art in the April of life. Time is gentle and pitiful; throw thyself before his chariot. Thou wilt stay his flying feet, and thy sovereign will bless thee."

Beryl returned, pondering over the woman's words. She entered that portion of the palace occupied by the Princess and her suite, and proceeded to her own chamber.

The hangings were of white silk, and the floor was of ivory. Silver vases, filled with purple lilacs, perfumed the air. Presently three maidens entered, to attire their mistress for the evening banquet. One bathed her face and hands with spring-water, another combed her hair with a silver comb, and the third robed her in a gown of soft silk, edged with pearls.

Beryl's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with excitement, as she hastened along the corridor to the apartments of the Princess. Her royal mistress was seated in the portico which looked on to the palace gardens. Never had Beryl seen the future Queen so sad. Forgetting her news in her anxiety, she threw herself at Rowena's feet, and besought her to say what ailed her.

"It is the old trouble that afflicts me, dear child. The King grows worse, and I fear that if he cannot conquer his melancholy he will go mad."

Then Beryl, in hurried words, told Rowena of her visit to the Village of Eld, and of the woman's message.

The Princess became deeply interested in the recital, and as her handmaiden unfolded her plan of waiting for Time on the longest day of summer, she gradually caught her excitement.

"Young for ever," she murmured, with a sigh, "young for ever in a summer world! It is too good to be true, Beryl; besides, if it were not, how could I let thee depart upon such a quest? Better far that I should go myself."

"Nay, sweet lady; thou art espoused to our lord, the King, but I have no lover who would grieve for me. Besides, I can but fail; and so thou wilt pity my unsuccess, I shall be content."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The air was filled with the scent of spring flowers, and of the many roses which had clambered over the portico. Beryl sat at the Princess'

feet, and lifted up a pair of beseeching eyes to her face. At that moment the young King entered. He was made acquainted with the question in dispute. On hearing of Beryl's plan a joyful expression lighted up his sad features, and at his earnest entreaty Rowena gave her consent to the undertaking.

II.

Summer had laid her hands upon the land, broadening with vigorous strokes the delicate colours of the faded spring. Fields of corn and barley were ripening, and far away on the uplands crimson poppies lay sleeping in the sunlight.

Beryl waited outside the village on the longest day of the year. In white robes and silken cap she watched for the pa.s.sing of Time. Before the day began to wane a chariot, drawn by the Winds, dashed along the road which led to the Village of Youth. The maiden, though half dead with terror, flung herself down before the gates with a loud cry. She felt herself raised from the ground, and on opening her eyes found that she was in the arms of a ragged youth. His face was beautiful beyond all description, though its expression was full of sorrow; his garments were smirched with mud and hung in tatters, but they were jewelled from shoulder to hem with diamonds, whiter and more brilliant than any she had ever seen. Awed and wondering, Beryl laid her finger softly upon one of the gems. But it dissolved and vanished at her touch; and she realised that Time's garments were jewelled with the world's tears.

Presently the youth addressed her, and his voice was the saddest of all the music that she had ever heard,--

"Maiden, what wouldst thou with me?"

"Good sir, I pray thee to spare the Village of Youth. Let its young days last for ever."

"For ever!" he sighed. "What spell is there in this 'for ever' that mortals must always crave after it? I am the spirit of Time, the king of change. The Winds are my servants. My palace is built on the sh.o.r.es of Eternity; and yet, for one hour pa.s.sed in the Village of Youth, or for knowledge of the peace which reigns in the Village of Eld, I would lay down my immortality without a pang. In my flight through the world I see little joy. I ring the bells of birth, of marriage, and of death. Upon my garments the tears of humanity gather fast. Still, my task is not all unhappy, in that a day comes when I have healed their wounds with my touch, though scars remain, which even I, an Immortal, cannot efface.

Alas, sweet maiden! I dare not leave the Village of Youth unvisited, even at the prayer of the fairest of its daughters."

Nevertheless, after many a sigh and many a tear, Beryl touched the changeful heart of Time; and because she was so beautiful the youth loved her, and he bore her away in his chariot, leaving the Village of Youth unvisited.

Desolate, and misty, and grey, was the country of Time, and rugged the castle built on the sh.o.r.es of Eternity. Strange, colourless flowers bloomed in the garden, and the paths were heavy and wet. In the great hall of the palace there were tables laden with fruit and wine, and after Beryl had eaten she felt refreshed. The place was lonely. There was not a sigh nor a token of any living creature within its walls.

Some of the sorrow seemed to pa.s.s out of the youth's face as he watched the maiden. And when she looked up at him and smiled all the tears on his dress melted away.

"Sweet lady," he presently said, "I did unwisely to bring thee here, for when thou art gone I shall feel more lonely than ever before. Until I met thee, I had never exchanged words with an earthly maid. Thy presence gives me much comfort; I am so weary of travel, so tired of this grim country. I must, nevertheless, leave thee at sunrise. Remain here until I return, and I will not pa.s.s through the Village of Youth."

Beryl's heart leapt with grat.i.tude. Her mission was accomplished. Then a sudden fear smote her. Must she remain alone in this weird place, and walk continually in this garden of colourless flowers?

"Good my lord, how long wilt thou be gone?" she tremblingly inquired.

"A year, though it will seem but as a day to thee, for here time counts not; this is his resting-place. In his palace there is no change; it is built on the everlasting sh.o.r.e."

As the youth finished speaking Beryl observed that the hall was full of weird shades, in jewelled cloaks of tears; but amongst them there was one whose garments were of shining white, gemmed with violets.

"These," said Time, "are the hours of to-day."

The shades flitted past, bending before their King. Beryl noticed that the sadness in their faces was akin to that of Time, with one exception.