Part 6

They tried only once, and never had the chance again. It was a golden day in October. Eepersip was sitting on a rock repairing some tears in her sea-weed dress. The waves were high, and every once in a while a little spray would splash up on to the rock where she was sitting. Mr. Carrenda discovered her sitting there, and, tiptoeing forward he caught her by the shoulders. She gnashed her little white teeth at him and struggled to get away, but he held her fast, and was about to pick her up in his arms. She shouted: "O waves, help me!" And, magically, a great wave rushed up, whirled itself into the air, and broke in Mr. Carrenda's face. He dropped her, and with a lightning manœuvre she dived down from the rock into the sea, and was far out before he recovered from the surprise. After this she remained far from the cottage and made her home on a deserted island. This island was a lovely place. It had a beach of fine sand on one side and was entirely surrounded with rocks on the other sides--rocks and, in places, even high cliffs. There was a grove of yellow pines there, where Eepersip danced when she wished to turn nymph again. There was a spring of fresh water on a small hill behind the grove. The hill was still covered with blueberries and raspberries; also there was a multitude of the plants with the sweet white roots that Eepersip was so fond of. There were asters, too, and Eepersip wove them in with her ferns or sea-weed, and crowned herself with them. Very happy to find not a single house on the island, she lived there for a long time, glad also to be able to have both the sea and the woods, to which she still instinctively returned occasionally. The period through which she stayed on this uninhabited island was one of the happiest stretches of her life by the sea.

But, now that she was alone again, Eepersip was filled once more with longing to see the little sister--to know her, love her, play with her, teach her to leap and dance and swim: filled with curiosities about what was going on at the home which she had been away from for so long. And these emotions grew and grew until they became a firm resolution. She struggled a while to prevent herself from thinking she had made a mistake in running away, and, thinking it all over, said that she had not, even if she did miss such exciting things as little sisters.

The plan of seeing Fleuriss had become more and more developed, now that she saw little of the boy and had more time to think about it. (It was only once in a while that she swam to the mainland to play with him.) Her idea had changed a great deal: it now was to take Fleuriss away to live with her. She wondered whether she could ever get her over those awful crags, through that shadowy forest, to the sea; whether she could make her comfortable living the wild life. Here was a difficult situation, for Eepersip was sure that so young a child could never endure the hardships of the life she lived--at least, until she was used to it.

This problem troubled her mind for days. Then, suddenly, as she was gazing over the restless murmuring sea, she had a great inspiration, "Oh! beautiful!" she exclaimed in her delight. The vision of the little brown cottage in the grove of white pines had come back to her--the whole thing, how she had been borne to it on her raft by those friendly yet terrible waves. And now she had a use for it! It seemed strange, when she hated houses so. But then, no one need know. She would go at once and make sure whether the Carrendas had gone from their camp, then fix up the cottage and discover all its secrets. _Then_ she could go and take Fleuriss away.

So one cold day she swam back to the cottage. The Carrendas' tent was gone; everything was as it had been before. But this time it did not appear hateful. She opened the door and went into the pleasant little living-room with the fireplace. Then she investigated the whole house shore thoroughly. She found a room with glass cupboards on the walls, filled with a marvellous collection of all kinds of sea-weeds, shells, and corals (how Fleuriss would enjoy them! she thought); and there was a tiny kitchen, There was one small attic room, with a ladder going up to it through a trap-door, and in it was a soft little bed with warm blankets, and a fireplace. Above the bed were three casement windows, and Eepersip liked to think how it would delight Fleuriss to see the stars out these. When she went to the second floor she came to a snug alcove with glass doors opening on to a porch, free to the wind and sun, overlooking the sea: and two sunny bedrooms.

But just as she was preparing to start after Fleuriss, her reason again detained her. Fleuriss of course could not begin her wild life in the winter: she must have a summer of it first, to see what it was like. So Eepersip waited patiently till spring. During the winter she lived in a great pasture on a hill behind the cottage.

The spring came round incredibly soon, and again Eepersip prepared to start.

The night before she went a great black cloud came up from the west, and soon a gale was raging. The waves mounted higher than any Eepersip had ever seen before, topped with flying snow-white spray. They leaped the highest cliffs, thundered on the wet rocks, and then retreated, awashing down through the cracks with a strange hollow sound and sweeping the sea-weeds wildly up and down. The wind sounded as on a mountain-top, a curious mixture of high-pitched whistling and bass droning. Occasionally it would rise into a terrific scream, making the waves rage with the uncanny storm-green. At the crisis of the storm Eepersip, who had been standing on the beach watching, her curls flying, her ferns fluttering and often tearing loose, flung herself into the storm from a high rock, and was swept about like a tiny insect, disappearing under a wave, bobbing up to take a breath just as the next breaker washed over her. She had a glorious time out in the waves and the spray. The sea-gulls shrieked; sometimes they struck at a fish, and appeared all covered with spray and shaking the drops from their wings--strong narrow wings that beat down the air as the birds rose again, to hover and swoop and plunge. These marvellous birds being blown wildly in the gale reminded Eepersip of the swallows, as they were tossed about by the high pasture winds--the swallows she had loved so when she lived on the meadow.

Slowly the wind abated its fury, and Eepersip, covered with water-drops and spray like a silver fish or a sea-gull, swam to the shore bubbling with happiness. With the water still standing on her hair, she sang a sea-song on the beach, accompanied by the rocking waves, now calmed down, and by the screaming and wildly circling gulls.

It was a wonderful night afterwards, for soon the sea was entirely calm, and the moon and the stars came out, reflecting themselves in trembling silver. Eepersip was up all that night, dancing singing, swimming and diving in the glorious moonlight. And then she remembered--to-morrow! and went up on the hill to say good-bye to the meadow, the pastured hill, and quiet, mossy pool that she had loved so.

Up on the hill she saw the sun rise. First the dark blue sky turned grey, and then a pearly streak came on the horizon as the first ray of the sun appeared; then it turned to the most heavenly shade of pink and deep rose, and then into the blue of one of the most gorgeous days Eepersip had ever seen. She gazed and gazed at the dawn until it grew pale and buttercup yellow, and finally turned to blue. The sun made a mass of gold sun-sparkles on the sea, and they blended together from the high hill and formed a solid splotch of gold, separating at the edges into individual sparkles. It was a windy day, but the wind was warm, and at first the sea was only rippling gently and smiling.

Then Eepersip remembered her little sister Fleuriss, and she wished her already there to share that beautiful, beautiful day. And off at one end of the beach she found, to her delight, a little green boat with two oars, which had been washed in by the storm. Now she had everything she needed, for the clumsy raft was difficult to manage in the wind, and she might even be blown so far off that she could never find the cottage again. Now, however, all was ready.

And so she made her way home, beginning in the boat, and rowing to where she had first entered the sea; then past the great precipices over which she had so laboriously clambered as she went to the sea. over hills, down into valleys, crossing rivers, and tearing her way through forests, until at last, to her delight, she arrived at the beautiful meadow where she had spent her first years of wildness with Chippy, Snowflake and the deer.

The deer did not remember Eepersip; that was one thing which distressed her. But a little fawn came cautiously and sniffed at her, obviously wishing he dared to approach and eat the ferns of her dress. She did not see Chippy anywhere.

She was soon at her own house, spying around, and looking in windows. All she could think of was Fleuriss, her little sister.

III THE MOUNTAINS

The droning wind Entwined about the peaks A golden trail of music... Far off, the snow-topped mountains Were sea-waves Capped with foam.

Eepersip had begun to wonder whether it would be so easy to take Fleuriss away. She might consent to play, like Toby; but to run away, like Eepersip?--it was a great problem. Eepersip must use some other means than simply appearing and asking her sister to go with her. Perhaps she would entice her on with the assurance that there was something wonderful waiting. Or maybe she could show Fleuriss wonder after wonder--point out the beautiful sea from far away, then lead her on to the little cottage which she had prepared. And if Fleuriss was cold, or hungry, what should she do then? Perhaps she would not like roots to eat. Then, suddenly, an idea: she would dress herself up in wonderful flowers interwoven with the ferns, she would lure butterflies about her wreaths, she would bear armfuls of roses and apple-blossoms and lilacs and scatter them over Fleuriss, she would make her a fern dress, and, thus fascinating her, draw her away.

Eepersip wondered where she could sleep, near the house, and yet concealed. She thought of returning to the meadow, but that would be too far for convenient communication with Fleuriss. And then she saw a lilac-bush on the eastern side of the cottage--a great tall lilac-bush, thick and with great branches. It looked as though she could go into it. And when she tried, she found, to her great delight, that she could squeeze in, curl up in comfort, and be absolutely invisible from the outside.

Then she began to make her fairy array, weaving more ferns into her skirt, and more and more, until it was thick and flouncy--maiden-hair ferns and Christmas ferns, evergreen ferns and hay-scented ferns. She tucked flowers all over her dress--late daffodils, cosmos, wild geraniums, primroses. She made a girdle of yellow daisies, a crown of golden buttercups; she plucked a bunch of roses, lilacs, and ferns, binding them with daisies woven together. A great bouquet of violets decorated her dress--violets and little white Pyrolas. With a huge hollyhock for her wand and her arms full of lilacs and roses, she danced in the woods, thinking how her little sister would wonder--and follow.

That evening early she climbed an oak which was beside the window of her former room, and peeped in. The moonlight shone on the face of a child lying in a little wooden crib. She had fluffy black curls and bright, snapping black eyes, and she was watching delightedly the shadows of the branches on her wall and softly humming.

"Oh," breathed Eepersip, "the little sister. I want her, I want her!" Entranced, Eepersip watched, sitting in a crotch just outside the window--watched her as she lay there, tracing with her finger the curving patterns on her wall-paper; as she played her hands in the moonlight and the waving shadows on her wall. And after a while the humming died away, the finger ceased to stroke the wall, her eyes closed, and in a moment she was gently sleeping. Before Eepersip went down she left a fair sprig of apple-blossoms on Fleuriss's bed--apple-blossoms that, with difficulty, she had brought up the tree. When she went back to her lilac-bush she imagined Fleuriss's surprise, when she should wake, to see them on her bed; imagined Fleuriss following her, all fascinated by butterflies and sweet flowers; imagined her little sister climbing mountains with her, eating berries and roots, swimming and diving and dancing; and--Her thoughts began to grow more and more fantastic --the smell of lilacs intoxicated her--and she went to sleep.

In the morning she climbed the tree again. Fleuriss was just waking. Her eyes were turned toward the lovely oak-tree, watching the sunlight playing on the emerald leaves. She caught a glimpse of Eepersip as she vanished around the trunk.

"Oh, Mother," she called softly. "I saw a nymph! She smiled at me, and went away."

"Hush, child," said Mrs. Eigleen, coming upstairs and stroking gently the silky black hair. "You were only dreaming."

"No, Mother," returned the child, "I was awake. I _saw_ a nymph, really."

Mrs. Eigleen only smiled.

And then Fleuriss saw the flowers. "O Mother," she cried, " did you bring those to me?" Mrs. Eigleen was wonderstruck.

"Why, no!" she answered.

"Maybe that nymph left them here."

Mrs. Eigleen was astounded enough not to contradict her. "Perhaps," she said.

Eepersip descended again and ran off to her safe hiding-place in the lilac-bush. "She is so, so lovely!" she thought. "I want her more and more."

In a short time little Fleuriss appeared with Mrs. Eigleen. "Fleuriss," said her mother, "you may play here in the garden, but don't go outside it, and don't climb the trees."

"All right, Mother."

"And don't run off and worry me as you did once before." She had _not_ forgotten Eepersip. Perhaps she scented something in the air. Those flowers troubled her.

"No, I won't."

Mrs. Eigleen went in, and Fleuriss began to run about and play. Then Eepersip stepped out from under the bush, and the lovely butterflies, lured by her flowers, fluttered and hovered around her.

"Oh," said Fleuriss," goodness, how you frightened me. Sit down on the grass, and talk with me. And _how_ do you get those butterflies? They always fly away from me."

"Listen, Fleuriss," said Eepersip. "I am Eepersip, who ran away. The butterflies and birds all love me and come to me in great flocks when I call them. And I want you. I want to take you with me to live wild, and eat leaves and berries with the birds--sweet red berries. And if you come the butterflies will gather around you, too. They will not any other way. And look at all my flowers! Butterflies love my flowers."

"Oh, did _you_ bring me those _bee-yoo-ti-ful_ flowers?"

"Yes, I did. Come!"

"Oh," answered Fleuriss, "and wouldn't it be funny if Mother came out and found me not here!"

"And think--the birds, the butterflies, the flowers! Look, I'd dress you like this, with ferns and flowers and butterflies. And what fun we could have! We would dance and sing and chase each other amongst the fluttering leaves."

"Oo, I could never catch you."

"No, but I could catch you, and that would be as much fun."

"But Mother doesn't like me to eat leaves, and berries all the time make one sick."

"But we would not have berries all the time. We would dig up sweet white roots and wash them clean; and _m-m!_ they are good, little sister Fleuriss. We would have honey. The bees gather honey from the flowers, which they would share with us."

"Bees sting," said Fleuriss, shrinking away; "they sting, and they hurt, Eepersip."

"Oh, but the bees love us all so they don't sting us," answered Eepersip. "It's only the people that try to hurt them that they sting. We wouldn't hurt them."

"Oh, _Eepersip!_ the leaves and butterflies, and--and honey--_m-m!_ But I oughtn't, really," she said, backing off toward the house.

"Oh, come," said Eepersip, "come, don't go away. Your Mother wouldn't care; she would love to see how happy you were. _Please_ come." And Eepersip's hands went out in supplication, scattering over Fleuriss wreaths of flowers, sprays of berries, crimson, gold, frosty white.

"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed the little girl. But when she looked up, Eepersip had vanished.

Suddenly the door opened and Mrs. Eigleen stepped out. Eepersip had darted under the welcome branches of an apple-tree, whose thick blossoms kept her from sight.

"How sweet it smells!" said Mrs. Eigleen--"just as if a fairy had been here. Where did those flowers come from, Fleuriss?"

"Oh," answered Fleuriss, "I saw the most beautiful girl. She brought me flowers and called me 'little _sister'_ and wanted me to go away with her!"

Pale and weak from fright, Mrs. Eigleen took Fleuriss by the hand and dragged her roughly into the house.

Eepersip sat down under the apple-tree in ecstasy. "I saw her," she said softly, "I saw her and talked to her, and--oh, how dear she is! But I _do_ wish she hadn't told about me." She waited there, and in a short time Fleuriss appeared again, running.

"Eepersip, Eepersip," she cried, "where are you?"

In a moment Eepersip had her arms around her waist, kissing her and hugging her.

"Are you coming?" she asked; "have you decided to come, Fleuriss?"

"Y-y-es," said Fleuriss, "I really have, Eepersip. I thought all dinner time, and couldn't eat, I was so 'xcited! But we must go quickly now, or they will run after us."

So they ran quickly into the woods--ran amid the trees and flowers until they were far from the house. Eepersip showed her little sister how to dance, and they danced together. She also showed her how to leap and run fast, and Fleuriss was delighted. When they grew tired, they sat down together and made fern dresses and flower wreaths. Fleuriss followed Eepersip's example, casting aside her dress, shoes, and stockings.

"Oh, how 'licious the grass feels on my bare toes!" she said, "and the soft moss. Eepersip, I feel just like a nymph." (A slight pause.) "When I saw the flowers I said: 'Mother, I think a _nymph_ left them there,' and she said: 'Oh, no, there aren't any nymphs. You're only dreaming!' _Are_ there nymphs, Eepersip?"

"Oh, yes, Fleuriss, and if we dance and run and dress just like them, we'll pretend _we're_ nymphs, too."

"But why can't we _see_ them, Eepersip?"

"Oh, we can, if we look very hard. They're all around in the trees, the flowers, and the woods. _Sometimes_ we can't see them, and they turn into butterflies so we can. I can see them."

"Well, sometimes," said Fleuriss thoughtfully, "it seems as if they were everywhere--when it's windy, you know, and sunny, and there are shadows. In my garden it's so beautiful I think there must be nymphs. I can _feel_ them, not exactly see."

There was a pause.

Then--"Where we going now, Eepersip?" for Eepersip was gradually working off to a hill which was a peak of Mount Varcrobis, north of Eiki-ennern Peak.

"Fleuriss," said Eepersip, with a strange emotion in her voice," have you ever seen the sea?"

"No, but I heard Mother talking about it once. She said maybe you had gone down there; and she told me it was lots of blue water, and there were boats there. Did you really go there?"

"Yes; it's _so_ beautiful, Fleuriss. The sun makes the waves sparkle like gold, and the great white gulls with their long, narrow wings go gliding, circling over the water, sometimes plunging down and catching fish underneath. And there is white sand there, soft sand, and shells and pretty pebbles, and little fishes swimming. And when it's windy the waves come dashing up on the rocks, flinging spray high in the air. And there is sea-weed, too, Fleuriss, green sea-weed that goes floating up and down as the waves stir it. And corals, too. Oh, my little sister, it's so, so beautiful. I would show you how to leap into it from the rocks, and how to swim--to be a mermaid and play with the gulls and the fishes, dressed all in sea-weeds!"

"Oh, Eepersip I let's go _now!_"

"And I have a little cottage down there for you to live in--a pretty little cottage just like your home."

"Oh, how nice!"

"And we shall go riding up and down on the great waves, Fleuriss, while the sea-gulls scream over our heads. We shall go 'way out of sight of land and find islands and rocks out there. And the waves are tremendous when it's windy--very windy."

"Oo--"

"Fleuriss!" And Eepersip caught her little sister in her arms--glad that she had succeeded in entrancing her with the sea.

"But, Eepersip," said Fleuriss, doubtfully, "where _are_ we going now?"

"I thought, Fleuriss, that we'd go to that great hill over there--do you see?"

"Yes."

"Go over there so that you can see from 'way of how beautiful it is."

"Oh yes; I'm crazy to see it!"

Eepersip saw that this hill was wooded on one side, but on the far side it was like a pasture--she could see sunlight glinting on it. On they went, often stopping to pick flowers, to dig up roots, or to refresh themselves at some little tinkling brook or mossy spring. Once as they were pushing through a fence of low beech-branches they came to a spring all surrounded with green moss--oh! so soft. There were ferns nodding beside it, and one or two strange pink orchids gazed at themselves admiringly in its surface. At the bottom were white stones. A cool, green frog plopped into it as they arrived. And Fleuriss was fascinated. She sat there for a long time, watching him reappear for air, then bob down again when he saw that they were still watching him.

Again they came into a great meadow dotted with flowers. Butterflies with soft wings stroked Eepersip's cheeks caressingly. Fleuriss danced through the flowers, looking, as Eepersip thought, like a little butterfly herself. The sky was a heavenly deep blue--a rich deep blue, yet filled and sparkling with all the gold of the sun and all the coolth of snow. She could see for miles into it, as if it had suddenly come nearer than usual. She reached up and could almost see her fingers touching it. What a strange sensation!