adows fell around her and brightened
as they lay upon the wand, which, guided by patient love, had made
his once desolate home so bright, he could not be cruel to the one
who had done so much for him, and in kindly tone he said,--

"Little Fairy, I offer you two things, and you may choose
between them. If I will vow never more to harm the flowers you may
love, will you go back to your own people and leave me and my Spirits
to work our will on all the other flowers that bloom? The earth
is broad, and we can find them in any land, then why should you care
what happens to their kindred if your own are safe? Will you do this?"

"Ah!" answered Violet sadly, "do you not know that beneath
the flowers' bright leaves there beats a little heart that loves
and sorrows like our own? And can I, heedless of their beauty,
doom them to pain and grief, that I might save my own dear blossoms
from the cruel foes to which I leave them? Ah no! sooner would I
dwell for ever in your darkest cell, than lose the love of those
warm, trusting hearts."

"Then listen," said the King, "to the task I give you. You shall
raise up for me a palace fairer than this, and if you can work
that miracle I will grant your prayer or lose my kingly crown.
And now go forth, and begin your task; my Spirits shall not harm you,
and I will wait till it is done before I blight another flower."

Then out into the gardens went Violet with a heavy heart; for
she had toiled so long, her strength was nearly gone. But the
flowers whispered their gratitude, and folded their leaves as if they
blessed her; and when she saw the garden filled with loving friends,
who strove to cheer and thank her for her care, courage and strength
returned; and raising up thick clouds of mist, that hid her from the
wondering flowers, alone and trustingly she began her work.

As time went by, the Frost-King feared the task had been
too hard for the Fairy; sounds were heard behind the walls of mist,
bright shadows seen to pass within, but the little voice was never
heard. Meanwhile the golden light had faded from the garden,
the flowers bowed their heads, and all was dark and cold as when
the gentle Fairy came.

And to the stern King his home seemed more desolate and sad; for
he missed the warm light, the happy flowers, and, more than all,
the gay voice and bright face of little Violet. So he wandered
through his dreary palace, wondering how he had been content
to live before withou