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 without sunlight and love.

And little Violet was mourned as dead in Fairy-Land, and many tears
were shed, for the gentle Fairy was beloved by all, from the Queen
down to the humblest flower. Sadly they watched over every bird
and blossom which she had loved, and strove to be like her in
kindly words and deeds. They wore cypress wreaths, and spoke of her
as one whom they should never see again.

Thus they dwelt in deepest sorrow, till one day there came to them an
unknown messenger, wrapped in a dark mantle, who looked with wondering
eyes on the bright palace, and flower-crowned elves, who kindly