And Fleuriss? How could she climb those great peaks – she, who had had great difficulty even with the little hill? Well, Fleuriss could grow more used to such things, and then they would go together. But Fleuriss – Fleuriss barefoot, dressed in ferns – on those snowy summits! No, it would be impossible for years and years. She would have to wait – or else go alone.
But the hill had other things than just the view. For there were the loveliest little winding lanes and bright open places and close spots where they could hardly push through the bushes; great patches of delicious soft grass, then again enormous smooth-topped rocks from where they had first found the long-sought vision of the sea. Such feasts as Nature laid before them! There were great beds of the most delicious wild strawberries, and nobody to share them with but the birds. And they and the birds gobbled them; and it seemed as if the more they ate the more there were to eat; they ripened all the time. And in this marvellous place there were such contrasts! They could have anything they wanted there. There were places where the sun always struck brilliantly, and cool, shady ones for the hot days – places where not much sun ever came. There was the loveliest of soft grass, and then again nothing but brambles and heaps of pointed rocks. There were lanes leading through the woods occasionally, and there were places where no one would ever suspect that there was any such thing as a lane. There were little fairy glades where they could dance together – glades bordered with ferns and carpeted with moss.
Fleuriss and Eepersip lived there enchanted day after day, and although they often saw the sea, they did not wish to leave the hill. Fleuriss spoke about it several times, but Eepersip would hurriedly change the subject. That range of blue hills seemed to be calling her – she would forget the sea for a while, until the next year. After they had stayed where they were for some time, they would go on and on to the blue hills, and perhaps explore the great snowy mountains beyond. She could manage with Fleuriss somehow.
One day they went exploring farther than ever towards the east. They followed a narrow path, winding, winding through the bushes. And then it curved around towards the north-east and led through low laurel trees, and here Eepersip stopped to make for Fleuriss a crown of the blossoms. And again the path turned and came on to a broader gravel road all bordered with gorgeous roses of red and white, and Fleuriss was very much surprised at their magnificent beauty. But Eepersip was distressed. So they had come to a place where there were roads, houses and people! But as yet they had seen no house. Eepersip hoped that there would be none, for she was as entranced as Fleuriss with the beauty of it all. And then they switched off on another little path, leading south-east on to a wide lawn all bordered with marvellous roses. Here they danced together a long time. Next they turned into another gravelled path which led eastward, through clumps of roses and laurel, downhill and uphill, for a long way; and then they saw a garden brilliant with colour. Fleuriss was dazed, there were so many flowering bushes – rhododendron, laurel, honeysuckle, azalea, quince and fire blossom. Hummingbirds, bright emerald and ruby with moonlight wings, were darting and sparkling about, sipping honey, resting and quivering on the air.
But soon after they had discovered the garden, Eepersip said that she was going on a short journey, coming back in two or three days. ‘Will you be all right here alone, little sister?’ she said anxiously.
‘Oh yes, Eepersip, and I’m going to find lots of things to show you when you come back. But where are you going?’
‘I’m going – going – to a beautiful place – and will take you there sometime.’
‘Oh – I see. Can’t I go now?’
‘No – because – it would be too hard now. Wait till I go and find the easiest way for you.’
‘All right – goodbye!’
And, with a rustle of ferns, Eepersip vanished around a great rhododendron bush.
Fleuriss continued her explorations alone. She saw a gorgeous butterfly come sailing towards her, of yellow streaked with black. Others followed, and they covered her with soft wing caresses, crowning her head with their wings. Fleuriss thought (as Eepersip had told her) that they were the fairies turning themselves into butterflies so that she could see them.
Not a mouse stirred when she wormed her way through the bushes, taking care not to step on leaves or dry twigs so as to make a noise. And then the sun started to set and turned the whole sky golden and rose. Fleuriss crept in among a vine with golden flowers (there was no rich purple fruit yet, only the lovely flowers) and watched. And each leaf was quivering, and on their smooth surfaces was represented another miniature sunset. How marvellous the rose and gold looked through the mass of trembling green leaves!
Then Fleuriss squeezed her way out of the bush and began to explore again. Pushing northward in the dim, rosy light, she came to a smooth lawn of pale green moss. On the other side was a stretch of woods, then another lawn, of grass this time and smaller; and then there was a great row of massive pines and beyond them an opaline lake. And still the sun went down, and the mass of colour became smaller and brighter, and Fleuriss, who had never seen so much beauty in her little life, gazed and gazed. The colour faded slowly, slowly, as she watched, until only a deep flush was left, and it was then that Fleuriss thought she was in the heart of a giant rose. And – inconceivable – she looked and she was. She was sure of it. She could even see the great curling petals around her. Right at the sun was a burning spot. That was the pollen of the great flower. And this tiny fire burned and burned until only one bright red spark was left. Then it too went out, and after it all the rose colour faded away.
Then Fleuriss turned to the lake, which also had held in its bright blue surface an image of the sunset. The sky was deep blue now. The pines looked even darker against it, and in the lake Fleuriss could see the reflection of the crescent moon setting. And then she ran down by the side of the lake, and very dark and strange it looked in the evening. Dipping her little hands into the clear, crystal water, she drank, for she was thirsty. But she was too tired to appreciate any more beauty just then, and so she crept back to her little nest of flowers to go to sleep. Then she heard a gurgle of sweet silvery music, and she listened spellbound, entranced. But it was no wicked witch, seeking to entice her by spells: it was the solitary wood thrush, that superb singer of the dusk. And then Fleuriss dropped off to sleep.
The next morning dawned fair, and she rose bewitched with what she had been through. The sunset and the silvery notes of the thrush all came back to her. She went down by the lake. It was very different now. Its blue was sparkling with the rays of the sun, whereas before it had looked very solitary – an icy cold blue. There was no beach – just a grassy bank – and in the shallow water she saw some little silvery fishes swimming and playing in shoals. And she watched them in their happy play for a long time, fascinated by the way they raced after each other around the shining stones and pebbles. Because they were so bright and gleaming, poor little Fleuriss thought that they were some rare and unheard-of fish, little dreaming that they were just common minnows.
Eepersip came back that day in a strange way. Fleuriss was looking down on the meadowy side of the hill, where the long green grass waved in the wind and butterflies were fluttering. And as she looked, suddenly – there was Eepersip standing in front of her. She had come from nowhere – she was just there without coming at all. Fleuriss was appalled. She remembered that strange dancing – was her sister about to melt into the air? Fleuriss stood stock-still.
Finally she raised her head and said, at first faintly, but with growing enthusiasm: ‘Oh, Eepersip, last night there was a great rose, and I was inside it – and I found a beautiful lake with fishes in it – oh, wonderful fishes of silver – and the beautiful birdie sang me to sleep in the flowers.’ And then, her voice sounding strangely timid: ‘Oh, Eepersip – I want – Mother – to see it – so beautiful. I love – it here, but – I know Mother – would like to see it, too. And I guess I can’t get along without her. I guess I can’t, Eepersip.’
Eepersip was broken-hearted. ‘But, Fleuriss,’ she said – and Fleuriss shuddered a very little as Eepersip took her hand – ‘Fleuriss, if your mother came she would take you back home, and you would not be here any more. If she would come to see it, all right, but she would not – and so, you would not see it either. Come on, show me the lake you found.’
Fleuriss was happy in a flash. Laughing and dancing, she took her sister down to the lake and showed her the wondrous fishes. They went in bathing together, and Eepersip showed Fleuriss how to swim, as she had shown Toby. Fleuriss was wild with joy. Then they splashed each other and played tag in the water. Eepersip puzzled Fleuriss by swimming underwater, and Fleuriss would scream with delight when she came up in a totally unexpected place. This new pastime kept them happy for several days.
But again Fleuriss began to grow miserable – and homesick.
And again Eepersip resisted this feeling for a long time – two or three weeks of misery. But at the end of that time she began to think.
To begin with, she thought about where she had been on that little expedition of hers. She had been up towards those blue hills to see from nearer the snowy mountains. She had loved them more and wanted more than ever to go to them. She asked Fleuriss if she would not like to climb the high peaks with her. But Fleuriss replied, almost snappishly: ‘You know what I want, Eepersip.’
Of course this misery weighed down Eepersip’s mind frightfully; she was very uncomfortable. And then she began to think that after all she would want to be alone when she went amongst the mountains; Fleuriss would be all right if she were happy, perhaps, but a miserable companion would be unendurable. Perhaps she had made a mistake in taking Fleuriss away. Maybe it was true that they had to go in different directions – that she herself could not live at home, and that her little sister could not live elsewhere. And even in Eepersip’s untamed heart there was a bit of pity. And she found that that pity kept growing. How badly the Eigleens must feel, after all! Once she smothered it with the thought, ‘No, she will be happy if she stays long enough, and they will forget her.’ But it only began to grow again.
Up to this unhappy time Fleuriss’s flowers had not withered or drooped: in this they were like those of Eepersip. But now Eepersip noticed that for some peculiar reason hers only stayed fresh and sweet. And then she thought again about the mountains and about those poor wasted flowers, and the pity grew and grew. And one happy, happy day for Fleuriss, Eepersip led her safely home again.
‘Goodbye, Fleuriss,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry you wouldn’t stay with me.’
‘Yes, I know, Eepersip, but I just couldn’t. Why don’t you come home? You’ve been away so long – and Mother cries for you still. Please come.’
‘Oh, Fleuriss, I couldn’t. If I were to go back home now, I should just die – even with you.’
‘Goodbye, then. Sometime I’m going to take Mother to see that beautiful hill.’
‘But not for a long time?’
‘As soon as I can.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Why?’
‘You know. Please don’t.’
‘Well, I’m not sure. I’m going to – pretty soon. Goodbye, Eepersip. Aren’t you ever coming home?’
‘Oh, Fleuriss, no!’
‘I wish you would.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘Won’t you let me take Mother and Daddy to live over there?’
‘Well, after a while – if you want to. I shan’t be there.’
‘Why, where are you going?’
‘I’m going to the beautiful, beautiful white mountains. And then maybe the sea again, Fleuriss – the sea.’
‘Oo!’
‘Coming?’
‘NO! I’ll ask Mother to take me to the sea. She will.’
‘Then – goodbye!’
And she decked Fleuriss’s fern dress with beautiful flowers – a crown of them and a girdle. A sweet wind arose, carrying the scent of Eepersip’s flowers to Fleuriss. A few butterflies were blown over to her. Eepersip stood on her tiptoes an instant; then, quick as a flash, she whirled about and bounded off, free – relieved of a gigantic burden.
She went up to the lovely hill and stayed there a few days, amid the dancing butterflies and the gorgeous roses. At the lake she would dream hour after hour and watch the little jewelled minnows playing about the white stones and shining pebbles. In the evening she crept into a great bed of thick vines with flowers of white and gold, and listened to the lapping of the waves and watched the twinkling fireflies. They were her favourites, those poor ignorant little insects. She loved them as well as the delicate, gauzy butterflies, the sweeping swallows with their slim white wings or the great gold-and-black bees. She adored them all, but the tiny blue-black fireflies, with thin gauze wings and the spot of phosphorescence showing now and then, were perhaps the loveliest of all. How she liked to see them playing about at dusk, sparkling and gleaming – little stars of the trees, in golden waves across the sky.
Sometimes, when they began to come out, she would go forth and dance and skip with myriads of them clustered in her hair. Around each invisible fern and blossom in her dress would gather a row of the little insects, until finally one could have seen her entire form bordered with fireflies. And besides these which alighted on her dress, thousands gathered swarming about her, so that her head was entirely hidden in a maze of gold.
Sometimes she would sleep at night and in the daytime play with the butterflies, birds and bees. But now she began to sleep more and more in the day and play about at night.
One cool morning Eepersip went down the lovely hill that she and Fleuriss had found. She walked down and then out towards the pastured side of the hill. Here she stayed for a long time. She lived in the golden smell of steeple bush, and instead of the wild strawberries that she had had on the hill she found great crops of blueberries. And in this pasture she had a sample of a new food – checkerberries. To be sure, she had eaten the leaves often enough, but to see the waxen white berries was quite new. These also she tasted and found greatly to her liking. She would lie and eat hundreds of those white berries which tasted of the woods. They were almost as good as the blueberries.
Now this pasture formed a steep hill, and one delicious morning when a soft, warm wind was blowing rather strongly, Eepersip climbed to the top of it. And oh, what a sight met her dark brown eyes! Far and near, far and near rose mountains, mountains, mountains! Stretching away, fold after fold, layer after layer, rose marvellous blue peaks, with the dazzling light of the sun brightening the white granite at some of their tops. Peak after peak rose up around her, lake after lake stretched out in the dim blue distance, with the sun striking them until they were a mass of gold, like great precious stones in that setting of purple mountains. She could make out three or four farmhouses, but no villages. She stood there entranced, watching. Then down she dashed, through the tall grass sprinkled with buttercups and daisies. It seemed miles, but it also seemed no more than seconds. At last she found herself by the shore of a cobalt lake. It was almost perfectly round, with a group of tiny green islets sprinkled in it like a handful of emerald beads. No house could Eepersip see, for the lake was entirely surrounded with low green-blue hills. The shore was for the most part soft white sand, fine as pepper. With a cry of joy at the discovery of this beautiful little lake, Eepersip dashed into it and swam in the cool of those waters from the mountains. And then she saw, playing up and down in the shallow water just off one of those many beaches, a shoal of slim fishes. They were all silver except one or two that were gold, and they had rather bulging red eyes.
For a long time Eepersip watched them. Then something caused her to look up. This something was the strange, shrill cry of a bird above her. She looked up suddenly and saw the bird. But she did not watch it: for the glint of something white – a strange whiteness which she had never seen before – caught her eye. She gazed long upon it, until, when her eyes became accustomed, she was able to make out the outlin
e of a peak, going up sharp as a tooth, with bumps of smoother outline stretching away, away into the blue immensity of space on either side.
‘Oh,’ said Eepersip, ‘a dream! Oh, what a beautiful dream! But – I feel so wide awake.’
She gazed and gazed, silent.
‘Oh,’ she said again, after a while, ‘it cannot be a dream, it mustn’t be a dream!’
She gazed and gazed again.
‘Oh,’ she repeated, ‘I must go – there at once! The snowy mountains!’
She plunged into the beautiful, icy lake and swam across it, with never a thought of the beauty in the green depths around her. Her eyes were fixed upon that one thing only. Soon she reached the opposite shore, consisting only of thick woods. Her heart – that heart beautiful, yet with a certain sense of childlikeness in it which had never left her – was mad for a glimpse of those mountains. It was then that she felt as if there were a great bird in her, pulling her, hauling her forward, regardless of the thorns and nettles which tore her delicate dress of ferns and blossoms. At last she got through the forest and found herself in an open meadow, with the wondrous mountain before her and warm rain falling gently. She saw a farmhouse, and as she went along the simple peasant farmer saw her and muttered to his wife: ‘Look there, Mary.’ Mary looked, and then she said: ‘Ay, God hath taken this child into his care – ignorance demands mercy.’
A moment of intense thought. She gazed and gazed, bewitched. Then she gave, or tried to give, a little laugh. It did not sound. ‘Oh,’ she tried to say, ‘how queer I feel! I believe I never felt so queer.’ And indeed she did feel queer. For she felt the feeling of speaking to her heart. She was talking, it seemed to her, loudly, but when, even in the midst of her talk, she listened, nothing sounded.
After a few seconds, it seemed, she ran on, leaping through the wet. Raindrops gathered on the ferns and the flowers of her dress, outlining them with the pearly water. She looked like a rain fairy. Hour after hour passed, and she went like the wind itself; yet she did not tire. At last she found herself near the foot of that wondrous mountain, shimmering with snowfields, cold white against a deepening night sky.
The House Without Windows Page 9