Bab Bab 14 · That Night Week

. That Night Week

During the whole of the week Irene had been thinking every other moment

of her promise to the old lady, although even now she could not feel

quite sure that she had not been dreaming. Could it really be that an

old lady lived up in the top of the house, with pigeons and a

spinning-wheel, and a lamp that never went out? She was, however, none

the less determined, on the coming Friday, to ascend the three stairs,

walk through the passages with the many doors, and try to find the

tower in which she had either seen or dreamed her grandmother.

Her nurse could not help wondering what had come to the child--she

would sit so thoughtfully silent, and even in the midst of a game with

her would so suddenly fall into a dreamy mood. But Irene took care to

betray nothing, whatever efforts Lootie might make to get at her

thoughts. And Lootie had to say to herself: 'What an odd child she

is!' and give it up.

At length the longed-for Friday arrived, and lest Lootie should be

moved to watch her, Irene endeavoured to keep herself as quiet as

possible. In the afternoon she asked for her doll's house, and went on

arranging and rearranging the various rooms and their inhabitants for a

whole hour. Then she gave a sigh and threw herself back in her chair.

One of the dolls would not sit, and another would not stand, and they

were all very tiresome. Indeed, there was one would not even lie down,

which was too bad. But it was now getting dark, and the darker it got

the more excited Irene became, and the more she felt it necessary to be

composed.

'I see you want your tea, princess,' said the nurse: 'I will go and get

it. The room feels close: I will open the window a little. The evening

is mild: it won't hurt you.'

'There's no fear of that, Lootie,' said Irene, wishing she had put off

going for the tea till it was darker, when she might have made her

attempt with every advantage.

I fancy Lootie was longer in returning than she had intended; for when

Irene, who had been lost in thought, looked up, she saw it was nearly

dark, and at the same moment caught sight of a pair of eyes, bright

with a green light, glowering at her through the open window. The next

instant something leaped into the room. It was like a cat, with legs

as long as a horse's, Irene said, but its body no bigger and its legs

no thicker than those of a cat. She was too frightened to cry out, but

not too frightened to jump from her chair and run from the room.

It is plain enough to every one of my readers what she ought to have

done--and indeed, Irene thought of it herself; but when she came to the

foot of the old stair, just outside the nursery door, she imagined the

creature running up those long ascents after her, and pursuing her

through the dark passages--which, after all, might lead to no tower!

That thought was too much. Her heart failed her, and, turning from the

stair, she rushed along to the hall, whence, finding the front door

open, she darted into the court pursued--at least she thought so--by

the creature. No one happening to see her, on she ran, unable to think

for fear, and ready to run anywhere to elude the awful creature with

the stilt-legs. Not daring to look behind her, she rushed straight out

of the gate and up the mountain. It was foolish indeed--thus to run

farther and farther from all who could help her, as if she had been

seeking a fit spot for the goblin creature to eat her in his leisure;

but that is the way fear serves us: it always sides with the thing we

are afraid of.

The princess was soon out of breath with running uphill; but she ran

on, for she fancied the horrible creature just behind her, forgetting

that, had it been after her such long legs as those must have overtaken

her long ago. At last she could run no longer, and fell, unable even

to scream, by the roadside, where she lay for some time half dead with

terror. But finding nothing lay hold of her, and her breath beginning

to come back, she ventured at length to get half up and peer anxiously

about her. It was now so dark she could see nothing. Not a single

star was out. She could not even tell in what direction the house lay,

and between her and home she fancied the dreadful creature lying ready

to pounce upon her. She saw now that she ought to have run up the

stairs at once. It was well she did not scream; for, although very few

of the goblins had come out for weeks, a stray idler or two might have

heard her. She sat down upon a stone, and nobody but one who had done

something wrong could have been more miserable. She had quite

forgotten her promise to visit her grandmother. A raindrop fell on her

face. She looked up, and for a moment her terror was lost in

astonishment. At first she thought the rising moon had left her place,

and drawn nigh to see what could be the matter with the little girl,

sitting alone, without hat or cloak, on the dark bare mountain; but she

soon saw she was mistaken, for there was no light on the ground at her

feet, and no shadow anywhere. But a great silver globe was hanging in

the air; and as she gazed at the lovely thing, her courage revived. If

she were but indoors again, she would fear nothing, not even the

terrible creature with the long legs! But how was she to find her way

back? What could that light be? Could it be--? No, it couldn't. But

what if it should be--yes--it must be--her great-great-grandmother's

lamp, which guided her pigeons home through the darkest night! She

jumped up: she had but to keep that light in view and she must find the

house. Her heart grew strong. Speedily, yet softly, she walked down

the hill, hoping to pass the watching creature unseen. Dark as it was,

there was little danger now of choosing the wrong road. And--which was

most strange--the light that filled her eyes from the lamp, instead of

blinding them for a moment to the object upon which they next fell,

enabled her for a moment to see it, despite the darkness. By looking

at the lamp and then dropping her eyes, she could see the road for a

yard or two in front of her, and this saved her from several falls, for

the road was very rough. But all at once, to her dismay, it vanished,

and the terror of the beast, which had left her the moment she began to

return, again laid hold of her heart. The same instant, however, she

caught the light of the windows, and knew exactly where she was. It

was too dark to run, but she made what haste she could, and reached the

gate in safety. She found the house door still open, ran through the

hall, and, without even looking into the nursery, bounded straight up

the stair, and the next, and the next; then turning to the right, ran

through the long avenue of silent rooms, and found her way at once to

the door at the foot of the tower stair.

When first the nurse missed her, she fancied she was playing her a

trick, and for some time took no trouble about her; but at last,

getting frightened, she had begun to search; and when the princess

entered, the whole household was hither and thither over the house,

hunting for her. A few seconds after she reached the stair of the

tower they had even begun to search the neglected rooms, in which they

would never have thought of looking had they not already searched every

other place they could think of in vain. But by this time she was

knocking at the old lady's door.