dwarf shut the door with a sullen resentful clang, and Violet was
left alone with the great magician.

She glided to his side, and knelt down meekly before him.

But the Wizard, deep in his abstruse studies, did not hear her; and
Violet felt a sensation of awe creeping over her as she noted his
abstracted gaze, and looked on the high, arched forehead wrinkled with
centuries of years and study. Suddenly the magician turned, muttering
some strange words in an unknown tongue, and, as he did so, his eyes
fell upon Violet.

[Illustration: _The Fairy Violet visits the Magician._]

A remembrance of some by-gone spell of grace and beauty seemed to stir
the Wizard as he looked upon the bright-haired fairy, to whose upturned
face the light of the silver lamp had lent a fairer radiance, for his
deep voice softened as he spoke to her, and he laid his hand gently on
her head while she told her story.

When she had finished, he remained musing for some time in silence.

"I know no spells that will serve where the Spirits of Snow and of Fire
have failed," he said at length, with unwonted gentleness. "No one can
help thee here but thine own loving heart. Kind words, gentle deeds,
faithful service, patient waiting--from these alone can be wrought the
wings, which will be slight enough for thy delicate frame to bear, and
yet powerful enough to withstand every trial. Go forth then, gentle
fairy, to thy daily tasks, and wait patiently till the great Mother
Nature herself give thee thy reward."

"Thanks, kind magician," said Violet, with a bright smile; "you have
given me a pleasant task to do."

Then kissing gratefully his withered hand, she went on her way, and the
aged Magician thought his silver lamp burned dimly, and his cell grew
dark when she had left.

"Could not the great wizard help you?" cried her three friends,
sorrowfully, as, gliding past the black dwarf that guarded the entrance,
she stepped out into the open air.

"Could he not help you?" echoed her sister fairies, when she re-entered
once more the old forest.

"Alas! is there no help for you, sweet Violet?" wept the wind, wandering
in and out among the lofty trees, rocking and swaying them like slender
bulrushes in his fierce sorrow.

But to each and all Violet replied only by a glad quiet smile.

"Patience!" she said, gently; "Mother Nature will help me in her own
time."

So she returned to her work among the violets; and when they had all
died, and the s