In a quiet corner of a blooming garden lived Carly, the most tender-hearted little caterpillar you could ever hope to meet. One fine day, as she sat in the sunshine, she observed a long line of bright little faces, for they were all turning in the direction of her thoughts. Carly was so astonished that she gazed at them in silence for some moments, and it was quite some time before she could make up her mind to speak, even to say, “Good morning.” So many lovely bright colours shone upon her eyes that her little head felt quite dazed.
At last she said, “I think you must have come to stay a long time, little friends, for I see no leaves where you are resting.”
“We have tried ever so long to get to the top of this hedge, but cannot climb much faster,” answered the lady-bugs, which each had their wings pinned close to their bodies, “that we may not slip, and, poor things, fall back again.”
“I should so much like to help you,” said Carly warmly, “but I am afraid I could do nothing.”
“Ah, kind little caterpillar, we are sure you would help us if you could,” cried all the lady-bugs, fluttering their wings in chorus.
Now Carly happened to see a little twig just at that moment, and tucking it tenderly beneath her body, which was soft and woolly, she crawled up to the little lady-bugs and said, “Climb on to my back!”
So they all sprang on to her and showed her the way she was to crawl, and in this way she soon reached the top of the hedge, where she lovingly waved her tail to her little friends and bade them good-bye.
Do you know, all this time that shy little creature, the Tortoise-shell Butterfly, who had curled her long pale wings round her body, had been resting on a beautiful flower just near, listening to all that was said?
“Ah, as soon as my little lady-friends have had their breakfast and can flutter their wings,” said she, “they will take me off to the top of that distant tall pine-tree. I shall so much like to rest there for a moment and look at the fine view.”
“Let’s go together,” said Carly, rather timidly.
“But my wings are not grown yet, and your body cannot fly,” said the Butterfly.
“No, I can’t fly; but if I creep up very slowly there may be room for you to fold your wings quite tight and a little one like me can help her a long way.”
So she waved her long woolly tail and, with much care, placed one of her legs on the flower where the Butterfly rested.
“It is so very kind of you to offer me your help,” said the Butterfly gratefully.
So Carly placed the Butterfly gently on her back and said, “Get as comfortable as you can while I crawl up to the pine.”
“Thanks, dear little caterpillar,” sighed the Butterfly as she laid her chin on her knees and closed her tired eyes.
As Carly crept along, now and then she felt something wet upon her back; but she was so happy and thankful that she could help the delicate Butterfly that instead of fearing there may be something wrong, she just kept still and forged ahead.
“My dear little friend, I’ve been asleep,” cried the Butterfly when Carly was opposite the chapel bell-tower. “Will you turn your head towards me? I want to speak to you.”
Carly turned her head carefully round to listen for the voice of her dear little guest, and soon began to weep bitterly. Oh, how sad it made her feel to hear that the tears had been flowing from her eyes!
“My tears,” sighed the Butterfly, “have dyed your green body a rich brown. But why weep, little one? Wounds will heal; the colour will fade, and you will look as fresh as ever before summer comes.”
But Carly wept sadly still, and begged her visitor to leave her directly, promising to bid her good-bye when she came back from the pine. But the Butterfly would not listen to this.
“Pray stay with me a little longer,” said she, unreasonably as it seemed to Carly, “for I feel just as tired as when I left the flower. Don’t you remember I told you I was going to pay my first visit to the pine-tree?”
“But I want to cry for myself,” said Carly. “Oh, my unkind legs have grown so long and so thin, and have changes come to pass that I feel so lonely! I never knew I was such a miserable creature until I had this long crawl always in front of me! So you see I am not fit company for you, dear little friend.”
The poor Tortoise-shell Butterfly looked quite bewildered. Day by day, little by little, she had put off the chrysalis which had hidden up her long legs till they grew quite mature; and now her lovely little body seemed to have grown proportionately, and she thought she was as concerned as ever for the happiness of her little green friend.
“But, my dear little lady,” she said again—when I wept the dye from my eyes is falling upon you, so cruel thought!” sighed Carly. “Leave me, leave me to myself, for I am ashamed to see you so ashamed of me.”
The poor Tortoise-shell Butterfly gently turned her head and opened her pretty brown eyes to see if anything were amiss, and would have kissed Carly in her sweet gratitude for her offer of help. But when she saw her colouring had changed indeed to a rich brown, she became just as wretched as Carly and wept as bitterly.
“Oh, Carly, we have both broken the lovely magic! Let us weep together, for we shall never meet again.”
And the Butterfly, taking Carly by one of her little legs in her tiny thoughtful mouth, gave her a last farewell kiss from her roseate tongue, then, placing her upon a flowering cabbage, soared away towards the distant pine-tree.
And Carly, left quite alone, wept and wept till she fell asleep.
When she awoke, spring had slipped into summer. And looking up and down all the summer roadways which lay around, she could see no lady-bugs travelling on their visits, nor any happy little Butterfly going from flower to flower. But she was too old and wise to weep again, feeling certain she was to be reconciled to her change of condition. So, with her new and grown-up legs, she hid herself and slept a long week, and then crawled out to make the outside of bright nature resemble the inside of her own little heart. And she worked and spun till her round house stood before her, all of eldritch green and golden textures, and on one side a square window was quite a lovely lattice of droplet rain, and here and there, here and there, plain and faded sunshine was in view.
“Ah!” said Carly, peeping out tired and amused, “none but such worthy little creatures as the lady-bugs or the thorny Tortoise-shell will ever come to take shelter there!” And so saying, she set to sleep again and shut her wise old brown eyes gently, feeling quite happy.
For-at that moment all melting with gladness, with poor sensitive leg-tips trembling at her soft playful kiss, nimble L’ombre de la palme, as you know who she meant very well, touched Carly, and she forgot that she was a butterfly, or a Tortoise-shell, or a lady-bug, or a spider, or a caterpillar, or missing petal from Elinor’s nosegay. It was enough at this moment to know that her friend Elinor was resting and listening to her thoughts, her visions of the lovely ides, cloudy and, as yet but dim.