returned to the cottage; and the dying girl's last days were
brightened by the fairy presence of which she was so unconscious.

She knew not that it was from Violet the murmuring music came that
delighted her wondering ears, that it was to her she owed the sweet
fragrance that filled the air, and the soft fresh colouring of the
flower at which she loved to gaze; but though the gentle fairy got no
thanks, she felt well rewarded for her labour of love when she saw the
peaceful smile that rested on Faith's wasted face, and the light that
beamed in her dark eyes.

At last the end came. One evening as the sun was sinking to rest in
great waves of crimson and gold, Faith asked for her flower to be
brought to her, smiled faintly as her dim eyes rested on it for the last
time, laid her head on her mother's breast, and died. A low wailing cry
broke from the mother as she felt that never again would the dark eyes
be raised lovingly to hers, or the wan face brighten at her approach;
but Violet saw what the mother failed to see, that white-robed angels
had gathered round the death-bed, and were now bearing away the freed
spirit with strains of triumphant joy. So she framed the glorious vision
into a song, which she sang in the woman's ear, and the mother was
comforted, though she knew not why.

"'Tis better so, my poor lamb," she murmured, while tears dropped slowly
one by one down her sunken cheeks. "There is no pain where thou art
gone, nor hunger either, and I will join thee there by-and-bye."

Then Violet knew that her work was done, and she flew out of the open
window, and up into the clear sky, far above the tops of the tall
chimneys, and some men, who were looking up from the dusty streets at
the sunset, wondering whether the next day would be fine or wet, caught
a sudden gleam of her silver-tipped wings, and thought it was a flash of
summer lightning, and were conscious at the same moment of a delicious
fragrance as of violets, and said the wind must be from the west, for it
was wafting to them country scents. Fairy Violet laughed as she heard
their blundering guesses, a laugh that rippled out on the still air like
the chiming of silver bells, and then flew joyously on to thank the
Wizard of the Black Rock for his wise counsel.

But when she reached the Black Rock, she found the magician, wearied out
with a succession of sleepless nights spent in abstruse study and deep
research, had fallen fast asleep, with his venerab