THERE was once a beautiful lady who lived beside a lake in the western part of Ireland, and she was to be the bride of a king’s son. But just before the time set for the wedding he was murdered and thrown into the lake. So of course he couldn’t keep his promise to the fair lady—more’s the pity.
The lady was that tender-hearted she went out of her mind because of losing the king’s son. She pined away, and one day disappeared, and it was thought that the fairies had taken her.
After a time a white trout was seen in a stream that flowed into the lake, and the people didn’t know what to make of the creature, for such a thing as a white trout had never been known before. Years and years the trout was there, and no harm was ever done to it until some wicked sinners of soldiers came to those parts. They laughed at the people and gibed and jeered at them for never trying to catch the white trout. One of them, in particular, swore he would have the white trout for his dinner some fine day.
Sure enough, the blackguard caught the trout, and away he went home with it, pitched the pretty little thing into the frying-pan, and put the frying-pan over the fire. The trout squealed just like a Christian when it found itself thus cruelly treated, and the soldier laughed till he was like to split; for he was a hardened villain. When he thought one side was done, he turned the trout over to fry the other, but to his surprise saw not a sign of a burn on it anywhere. “This is a queer trout that can’t be fried,” said he. “But I’ll give it another turn by and by.”
As soon as the heathen thought that side was done he turned the trout again, and behold not a bit more broiled was it than when he began. “Bad luck to me,” said the soldier, “but this beats the world. However, cunning as you think yourself, I’ll try you again, my darling.”
So saying, he turned the trout over and over, and he kept the fire blazing hot, but not a sign of a burn would show on the pretty creature. He might have known he was doing a wrong thing, seeing that his endeavors accomplished nothing, and yet he kept on as he had begun.
“Well, my jolly little trout,” said he at last, “maybe you’re fried enough, though you don’t seem to be any more so than you were when I pulled you out of the stream. But perhaps you are better than you look, and a tit-bit after all.”
Then he picked up his knife and fork to have a taste of the trout, but the moment he put his knife into the fish there was a piercing screech, and the trout flopped out of the frying-pan into the middle of the floor. Immediately, on the spot where it fell, stood a beautiful lady—the loveliest creature that eyes had ever seen, dressed in white, and a band of gold in her hair, and her arm stained with blood.
“Look where you cut me, you villain,” said she, and she held her arm out toward him. “Why couldn’t you leave me cool and comfortable in the river, and not disturb me in my duty?”
The soldier, trembling with terror, stammered out some lame excuse, and begged for his life, asked her ladyship’s pardon, and declared that he did not know she was on duty. “If I had known it,” said he, “I am too good a soldier to have meddled with you.”
“I was on duty,” the lady affirmed. “I was watching for my true love, who is coming to me; and if he comes while I am away, so that I miss him, I’ll turn you into the little fish that is called a pinkeen, and I’ll hunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or water runs.”
The soldier nearly fainted away at the thought of being turned into a pinkeen. He begged for mercy harder than ever, and the lady said: “Renounce your evil ways, or you’ll repent too late. Be a good man for the future and go regularly to church; and now take me and put me back in the river where you found me.”
“Oh, my lady!” exclaimed the soldier, “how could I have the heart to drown a beautiful lady like you?”
Before he could say another word the lady had vanished, and he saw the little trout on the floor. So he put it on a clean plate, and away he ran to the river as fast as he could go, fearful that her lover would come while she was away. He ran and he ran until he came to the edge of the stream and then he threw the trout into the water.
From that day the soldier was an altered man. He reformed his ways, went to church regularly, and fasted three times a week, though he would not eat fish even on fasting days, for after the fright he got, fish would never rest on his stomach. At length he left the army and turned hermit, and every day he prayed for the soul of the white trout.