Lady Muriel had covered her face in her hands, and did not look up. She only murmured “Thanks, thanks!” again and again.

  We rose to go. Arthur said, with evident effort, “One word more. If you would know the power of Prayer—in anything and everything that Man can need—try it. Ask, and it shall be given you. I—have tried it. I know that God answers prayer!”

  Our walk home was a silent one, till we had nearly reached the lodgings: then Arthur murmured—and it was almost an echo of my own thoughts—“What knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy husband?”

  The subject was not touched on again. We sat on, talking, while hour after hour, of this our last night together, glided away unnoticed. He had much to tell me about India, and the new life he was going to, and the work he hoped to do. And his great generous soul seemed so filled with noble ambition as to have no space left for any vain regret or selfish repining.

  “Come, it is nearly morning!” Arthur said at last, rising and leading the way upstairs. “The sun will be rising in a few minutes: and, though I have basely defrauded you of your last chance of a night’s rest here, I’m sure you’ll forgive me: for I really couldn’t bring myself to say ‘Good night’ sooner. And God knows whether you’ll ever see me again, or hear of me!”

  “Hear of you I am certain I shall!” I warmly responded, and quoted the concluding lines of that strange poem “Waring”:—

  “Oh, never star

  Was lost here, but it rose afar!

  Look East, where whole new thousands are!

  In Vishnu-land what Avatar?”

  “Aye, look Eastward!” Arthur eagerly replied, pausing at the staircase window, which commanded a fine view of the sea and the eastward horizon. “The West is the fitting tomb for all the sorrow and the sighing, all the errors and the follies of the Past: for all its withered Hopes and all its buried Loves! From the East comes new strength, new ambition, new Hope, new Life, new Love! Look Eastward! Aye, look Eastward!”

  His last words were still ringing in my ears as I entered my room, and undrew the window-curtains, just in time to see the sun burst in glory from his ocean-prison, and clothe the world in the light of a new day.

  “So may it be for him, and me, and all of us!” I mused. “All that is evil, and dead, and hopeless, fading with the Night that is past! All that is good, and living, and hopeful, rising with the dawn of Day!

  “Fading, with the Night, the chilly mists, and the noxious vapours, and the heavy shadows, and the wailing gusts, and the owl’s melancholy hootings: rising, with the Day, the darting shafts of light, and the wholesome morning breeze, and the warmth of a dawning life, and the mad music of the lark! Look Eastward!

  “Fading, with the Night, the clouds of ignorance, and the deadly blight of sin, and the silent tears of sorrow: and ever rising, higher, higher, with the Day, the radiant dawn of knowledge, and the sweet breath of purity, and the throb of a world’s ecstasy! Look Eastward!

  “Fading, with the Night, the memory of a dead love, and the withered leaves of a blighted hope, and the sickly repinings and moody regrets that numb the best energies of the soul: and rising, broadening, rolling upward like a living flood, the manly resolve, and the dauntless will, and the heavenward gaze of faith—the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen!

  “Look Eastward! Aye, look Eastward!”

  Volume II

  Dreams, that elude the Waker’s frenzied grasp–

  Hands, stark and still, on a dead Mother’s breast,

  Which nevermore shall render clasp for clasp,

  Or deftly soothe a weeping Child to rest–

  In suchlike forms me listeth to portray

  My Tale, here ended. Thou delicious Fay–

  The guardian of a Sprite that lives to tease thee–

  Loving in earnest, chiding but in play

  The merry mocking Bruno! Who, that sees thee,

  Can fail to love thee, Darling, even as I?–

  My sweetest Sylvie, we must say “Goodbye!”

  Preface

  I must begin with the same announcement as in the previous Volume (which I shall henceforward refer to as “Vol. I,” calling the present Volume “Vol. II”), viz. that the Locket, at chapter 25, was drawn by “Miss Alice Havers.” And my reason, for not stating this on the titlepage—that it seems only due, to the artist of these wonderful pictures, that his name should stand there alone—has, I think, even greater weight in Vol. II than it had in Vol. I. Let me call especial attention to the three “Little Birds” borders, at chapter 23. The way, in which he has managed to introduce the most minute details of the stanzas to be illustrated, seems to me a triumph of artistic ingenuity.

  Let me here express my sincere gratitude to the many Reviewers who have noticed, whether favorably or unfavorably, the previous Volume. Their unfavorable remarks were, most probably, well-deserved; the favorable ones less probably so. Both kinds have no doubt served to make the book known, and have helped the reading Public to form their opinions of it. Let me also here assure them that it is not from any want of respect for their criticisms, that I have carefully forborne from reading any of them. I am strongly of opinion that an author had far better not read any reviews of his books: the unfavorable ones are almost certain to make him cross, and the favorable ones conceited; and neither of these results is desirable.

  Criticisms have, however, reached me from private sources, to some of which I propose to offer a reply.

  One such critic complains that Arthur’s strictures, on sermons and on choristers, are too severe. Let me say, in reply, that I do not hold myself responsible for any of the opinions expressed by the characters in my book. They are simply opinions which, it seemed to me, might probably be held by the persons into whose mouths I put them, and which were worth consideration.

  Other critics have objected to certain innovations in spelling,2 such as “ca’n’t,” “wo’n’t,” “traveler.” In reply, I can only plead my firm conviction that the popular usage is wrong. As to “ca’n’t,” it will not be disputed that, in all other words ending in “n’t,” these letters are an abbreviation of “not”; and it is surely absurd to suppose that, in this solitary instance, “not” is represented by “ ’t”! In fact “ca’n’t” is the proper abbreviation for “can it,” just as “is’t” is for “is it.” Again, in “wo’n’t,” the first apostrophe is needed, because the word “would” is here abridged into “wo”: but I hold it proper to spell “don’t” with only one apostrophe, because the word “do” is here complete. As to such words as “traveler,” I hold the correct principle to be, to double the consonant when the accent falls on that syllable; otherwise to leave it single. This rule is observed in most cases (e.g. we double the r in “preferred,” but leave it single in “offered”), so that I am only extending, to other cases, an existing rule. I admit, however, that I do not spell “parallel,” as the rule would have it; but here we are constrained, by the etymology, to insert the double l.

  In the Preface to Vol. I were two puzzles, on which my readers might exercise their ingenuity. One was, to detect the three lines of “padding,” which I had found it necessary to supply in the passage at chapter 3. The other puzzle was, to determine which (if any) of the 8 stanzas of the Gardener’s Song (see stanza number 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8) were adapted to the context, and which (if any) had the context adapted to them. The last of them is the only one that was adapted to the context, the “Garden-Door that opened with a key” having been substituted for some creature (a Cormorant, I think) “that nestled in a tree.” In stanzas 2, 5 and 7, the context was adapted to the stanza. In the fourth, neither stanza nor context was altered: the connection between them was simply a piece of good luck.

  In the Preface to Vol. I, I gave an account of the making-up of the story of “Sylvie and Bruno.” A few more details may perhaps be acceptable to my Readers.

  It was in 1873, as I now believe, that the idea first occurred to me that a little fairytale (written, in 1867, for “Aunt Judy’s Magazine,” under the title “Bruno’s Revenge”) might serve as the nucleus of a longer story. This I surmise, from having found the original draft of the last paragraph of Vol. II, dated 1873. So that this paragraph has been waiting 20 years for its chance of emerging into print—more than twice the period so cautiously recommended by Horace for “repressing” one’s literary efforts!

  It was in February, 1885, that I entered into negotiations, with Mr. Harry Furniss, for illustrating the book. Most of the substance of both Volumes was then in existence in manuscript: and my original intention was to publish the whole story at once. In September, 1885, I received from Mr. Furniss the first set of drawings—the four which illustrate “Peter and Paul” (see the incidents 1, 2, 3 and 4): in November, 1886, I received the second set—the three which illustrate the Professor’s song about the “little man” who had “a little gun” (In Vol. II chapter 17, drawings 1, 2, 3): and in January, 1887, I received the third set—the four which illustrate the “Pig-Tale.”

  So we went on, illustrating first one bit of the story, and then another, without any idea of sequence. And it was not till March, 1889, that, having calculated the number of pages the story would occupy, I decided on dividing it into two portions, and publishing it half at a time. This necessitated the writing of a sort of conclusion for the first Volume: and most of my Readers, I fancy, regarded this as the actual conclusion, when that Volume appeared in December, 1889. At any rate, among all the letters I received about it, there was only one which expressed any suspicion that it was not a final conclusion. This letter was from a child. She wrote “we were so glad, when we came to the end of the book, to find that there was no ending-up, for that shows us that you are going to write a sequel.”

  It may interest some of my Readers to know the theory on which this story is constructed. It is an attempt to show what might possibly happen, supposing that Fairies really existed; and that they were sometimes visible to us, and we to them; and that they were sometimes able to assume human form: and supposing, also, that human beings might sometimes become conscious of what goes on in the Fairy-world—by actual transference of their immaterial essence, such as we meet with in “Esoteric Buddhism.”

  I have supposed a Human being to be capable of various psychical states, with varying degrees of consciousness, as follows:—

  (a) the ordinary state, with no consciousness of the presence of Fairies;

  (b) the “eerie” state, in which, while conscious of actual surroundings, he is also conscious of the presence of Fairies;

  (c) a form of trance, in which, while unconscious of actual surroundings, and apparently asleep, he (i.e. his immaterial essence) migrates to other scenes, in the actual world, or in Fairyland, and is conscious of the presence of Fairies.

  I have also supposed a Fairy to be capable of migrating from Fairyland into the actual world, and of assuming, at pleasure, a Human form; and also to be capable of various psychical states, viz.

  (a) the ordinary state, with no consciousness of the presence of Human beings;

  (b) a sort of “eerie” state, in which he is conscious, if in the actual world, of the presence of actual Human beings; if in Fairyland, of the presence of the immaterial essences of Human beings.

  I will here tabulate the passages, in both Volumes, where abnormal states occur.

  Historian’s Locality and State Other Characters

  Vol. I

  In train c Chancellor. (b).

  do. c

  do. c

  At lodgings c

  On beach c

  At lodgings c S. and B. (b). Professor.

  In wood b Bruno. (b).

  do. sleepwalking c S. and B. (b).

  Among ruins c do. (b).

  do. dreaming a

  do. sleepwalking c S. B. and Professor in Human form.

  In street b

  At station, etc. b S. and B. (b).

  In garden c S. B. and Professor. (b).

  On road, etc. a S. and B. in Human form.

  In street, etc. a

  In wood b S. and B. (b).

  Vol. II

  In garden b S. and B. (b).

  On road b do. (b).

  do. b do. in Human form.

  do. b do. (b).

  In drawing-room a do. in Human form.

  do. c do. (b).

  In smoking-room c do. (b).

  In wood b do. (a); Lady Muriel (b).

  At lodgings c

  do. c

  do. b

  In the Preface to Vol. I., I gave an account of the origination of some of the ideas embodied in the book. A few more such details may perhaps interest my Readers:—

  I. The very peculiar use, here made of a dead mouse, comes from real life. I once found two very small boys, in a garden, playing a microscopic game of “Single-Wicket.” The bat was, I think, about the size of a tablespoon; and the utmost distance attained by the ball, in its most daring flights, was some 4 or 5 yards. The exact length was of course a matter of supreme importance; and it was always carefully measured out (the batsman and the bowler amicably sharing the toil) with a dead mouse!

  I. The two quasi-mathematical Axioms, quoted by Arthur at chapter 18 of Vol. I, (“Things that are greater than the same are greater than one another,” and “All angles are equal”) were actually enunciated, in all seriousness, by undergraduates at a University situated not 100 miles from Ely.

  II. Bruno’s remark (“I can, if I like, etc.”) was actually made by a little boy.

  II. So also was his remark (“I know what it doesn’t spell.”) And his remark (“I just twiddled my eyes, etc.”) I heard from the lips of a little girl, who had just solved a puzzle I had set her.

  II. Bruno’s soliloquy (“For its father, etc.”) was actually spoken by a little girl, looking out of the window of a railway-carriage.

  II. The remark, made by a guest at the dinner-party, when asking for a dish of fruit (“I’ve been wishing for them, etc.”) I heard made by the great Poet-Laureate, whose loss the whole reading-world has so lately had to deplore.

  II. Bruno’s speech, on the subject of the age of “Mein Herr,” embodies the reply of a little girl to the question “Is your grandmother an old lady?” “I don’t know if she’s an old lady,” said this cautious young person; “she’s eighty-three.”

  II. The speech about “Obstruction” is no mere creature of my imagination! It is copied verbatim from the columns of the Standard, and was spoken by Sir William Harcourt, who was, at the time, a member of the “Opposition,” at the “National Liberal Club,” on July the 16th, 1890.

  II. The Professor’s remark, about a dog’s tail, that “it doesn’t bite at that end,” was actually made by a child, when warned of the danger he was incurring by pulling the dog’s tail.

  II. The dialogue between Sylvie and Bruno, which occupies lines 6 to 15, is a verbatim report (merely substituting “cake” for “penny”) of a dialogue overheard between two children.

  One story in this Volume—“Bruno’s Picnic”—I can vouch for as suitable for telling to children, having tested it again and again; and, whether my audience has been a dozen little girls in a village-school, or some thirty or forty in a London drawing-room, or a hundred in a High School, I have always found them earnestly attentive, and keenly appreciative of such fun as the story supplied.

  May I take this opportunity of calling attention to what I flatter myself was a successful piece of name-coining, at chapter 4 of Vol. I. Does not the name “Sibimet” fairly embody the character of the Sub-Warden? The gentle Reader has no doubt observed what a singularly useless article in a house a brazen trumpet is, if you simply leave it lying about, and never blow it!