Текст книги "Страна Северного Ветра / At the Back of the North Wind"

Автор книги: Джордж МакДональд

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

CHAPTER II. THE LAWN

WHEN Diamond got round the corner of the hay, for a moment he hesitated.

The stair by which he would naturally have gone down to the door was

at the other side of the loft, and looked very black indeed; for it was

full of North Wind's hair, as she descended before him. And just beside

him was the ladder going straight down into the stable, up which his

father always came to fetch the hay for Diamond's dinner. Through the

opening in the floor the faint gleam of the-stable lantern was enticing,

and Diamond thought he would run down that way.

The stair went close past the loose-box in which Diamond the horse

lived. When Diamond the boy was half-way down, he remembered that it

was of no use to go this way, for the stable-door was locked. But at the

same moment there was horse Diamond's great head poked out of his box

on to the ladder, for he knew boy Diamond although he was in his

night-gown, and wanted him to pull his ears for him. This Diamond did

very gently for a minute or so, and patted and stroked his neck too, and

kissed the big horse, and had begun to take the bits of straw and hay

out of his mane, when all at once he recollected that the Lady North

Wind was waiting for him in the yard.

“Good night, Diamond,” he said, and darted up the ladder, across the

loft, and down the stair to the door. But when he got out into the yard,

there was no lady.

Now it is always a dreadful thing to think there is somebody and find

nobody. Children in particular have not made up their minds to it; they

generally cry at nobody, especially when they wake up at night. But it

was an especial disappointment to Diamond, for his little heart had been

beating with joy: the face of the North Wind was so grand! To have

a lady like that for a friend–with such long hair, too! Why, it was

longer than twenty Diamonds' tails! She was gone. And there he stood,

with his bare feet on the stones of the paved yard.

It was a clear night overhead, and the stars were shining. Orion in

particular was making the most of his bright belt and golden sword.

But the moon was only a poor thin crescent. There was just one great,

jagged, black and gray cloud in the sky, with a steep side to it like a

precipice; and the moon was against this side, and looked as if she had

tumbled off the top of the cloud-hill, and broken herself in rolling

down the precipice. She did not seem comfortable, for she was looking

down into the deep pit waiting for her. At least that was what Diamond

thought as he stood for a moment staring at her. But he was quite wrong,

for the moon was not afraid, and there was no pit she was going down

into, for there were no sides to it, and a pit without sides to it is

not a pit at all. Diamond, however, had not been out so late before in

all his life, and things looked so strange about him!–just as if he had

got into Fairyland, of which he knew quite as much as anybody; for his

mother had no money to buy books to set him wrong on the subject. I have

seen this world–only sometimes, just now and then, you know–look as

strange as ever I saw Fairyland. But I confess that I have not yet seen

Fairyland at its best. I am always going to see it so some time. But if

you had been out in the face and not at the back of the North Wind, on a

cold rather frosty night, and in your night-gown, you would have felt it

all quite as strange as Diamond did. He cried a little, just a little,

he was so disappointed to lose the lady: of course, you, little man,

wouldn't have done that! But for my part, I don't mind people crying so

much as I mind what they cry about, and how they cry–whether they cry

quietly like ladies and gentlemen, or go shrieking like vulgar emperors,

or ill-natured cooks; for all emperors are not gentlemen, and all cooks

are not ladies–nor all queens and princesses for that matter, either.

But it can't be denied that a little gentle crying does one good. It did

Diamond good; for as soon as it was over he was a brave boy again.

“She shan't say it was my fault, anyhow!” said Diamond. “I daresay she

is hiding somewhere to see what I will do. I will look for her.”

So he went round the end of the stable towards the kitchen-garden. But

the moment he was clear of the shelter of the stable, sharp as a knife

came the wind against his little chest and his bare legs. Still he

would look in the kitchen-garden, and went on. But when he got round the

weeping-ash that stood in the corner, the wind blew much stronger, and

it grew stronger and stronger till he could hardly fight against it. And

it was so cold! All the flashy spikes of the stars seemed to have got

somehow into the wind. Then he thought of what the lady had said about

people being cold because they were not with the North Wind. How it was

that he should have guessed what she meant at that very moment I cannot

tell, but I have observed that the most wonderful thing in the world is

how people come to understand anything. He turned his back to the wind,

and trotted again towards the yard; whereupon, strange to say, it blew

so much more gently against his calves than it had blown against his

shins that he began to feel almost warm by contrast.

You must not think it was cowardly of Diamond to turn his back to

the wind: he did so only because he thought Lady North Wind had said

something like telling him to do so. If she had said to him that he must

hold his face to it, Diamond would have held his face to it. But the

most foolish thing is to fight for no good, and to please nobody.

Well, it was just as if the wind was pushing Diamond along. If he turned

round, it grew very sharp on his legs especially, and so he thought the

wind might really be Lady North Wind, though he could not see her, and

he had better let her blow him wherever she pleased. So she blew and

blew, and he went and went, until he found himself standing at a door

in a wall, which door led from the yard into a little belt of shrubbery,

flanking Mr. Coleman's house. Mr. Coleman was his father's master,

and the owner of Diamond. He opened the door, and went through the

shrubbery, and out into the middle of the lawn, still hoping to find

North Wind. The soft grass was very pleasant to his bare feet, and felt

warm after the stones of the yard; but the lady was nowhere to be seen.

Then he began to think that after all he must have done wrong, and she

was offended with him for not following close after her, but staying to

talk to the horse, which certainly was neither wise nor polite.

There he stood in the middle of the lawn, the wind blowing his

night-gown till it flapped like a loose sail. The stars were very shiny

over his head; but they did not give light enough to show that the grass

was green; and Diamond stood alone in the strange night, which looked

half solid all about him. He began to wonder whether he was in a dream

or not. It was important to determine this; “for,” thought Diamond, “if

I am in a dream, I am safe in my bed, and I needn't cry. But if I'm not

in a dream, I'm out here, and perhaps I had better cry, or, at least,

I'm not sure whether I can help it.” He came to the conclusion, however,

that, whether he was in a dream or not, there could be no harm in not

crying for a little while longer: he could begin whenever he liked.

The back of Mr. Coleman's house was to the lawn, and one of the

drawing-room windows looked out upon it. The ladies had not gone to bed;

for the light was still shining in that window. But they had no idea

that a little boy was standing on the lawn in his night-gown, or they

would have run out in a moment. And as long as he saw that light,

Diamond could not feel quite lonely. He stood staring, not at the great

warrior Orion in the sky, nor yet at the disconsolate, neglected moon

going down in the west, but at the drawing-room window with the light

shining through its green curtains. He had been in that room once or

twice that he could remember at Christmas times; for the Colemans were

kind people, though they did not care much about children.

All at once the light went nearly out: he could only see a glimmer of

the shape of the window. Then, indeed, he felt that he was left alone.

It was so dreadful to be out in the night after everybody was gone

to bed! That was more than he could bear. He burst out crying in good

earnest, beginning with a wail like that of the wind when it is waking

up.

Perhaps you think this was very foolish; for could he not go home to his

own bed again when he liked? Yes; but it looked dreadful to him to creep

up that stair again and lie down in his bed again, and know that North

Wind's window was open beside him, and she gone, and he might never see

her again. He would be just as lonely there as here. Nay, it would be

much worse if he had to think that the window was nothing but a hole in

the wall.

At the very moment when he burst out crying, the old nurse who had grown

to be one of the family, for she had not gone away when Miss Coleman did

not want any more nursing, came to the back door, which was of glass, to

close the shutters. She thought she heard a cry, and, peering out with a

hand on each side of her eyes like Diamond's blinkers, she saw something

white on the lawn. Too old and too wise to be frightened, she opened the

door, and went straight towards the white thing to see what it was. And

when Diamond saw her coming he was not frightened either, though

Mrs. Crump was a little cross sometimes; for there is a good kind

of crossness that is only disagreeable, and there is a bad kind of

crossness that is very nasty indeed. So she came up with her neck

stretched out, and her head at the end of it, and her eyes foremost of

all, like a snail's, peering into the night to see what it could be that

went on glimmering white before her. When she did see, she made a

great exclamation, and threw up her hands. Then without a word, for she

thought Diamond was walking in his sleep, she caught hold of him, and

led him towards the house. He made no objection, for he was just in

the mood to be grateful for notice of any sort, and Mrs. Crump led him

straight into the drawing-room.

Now, from the neglect of the new housemaid, the fire in Miss Coleman's

bedroom had gone out, and her mother had told her to brush her hair by

the drawing-room fire–a disorderly proceeding which a mother's wish

could justify. The young lady was very lovely, though not nearly so

beautiful as North Wind; and her hair was extremely long, for it came

down to her knees–though that was nothing at all to North Wind's hair.

Yet when she looked round, with her hair all about her, as Diamond

entered, he thought for one moment that it was North Wind, and, pulling

his hand from Mrs. Crump's, he stretched out his arms and ran towards

Miss Coleman. She was so pleased that she threw down her brush, and

almost knelt on the floor to receive him in her arms. He saw the next

moment that she was not Lady North Wind, but she looked so like her he

could not help running into her arms and bursting into tears afresh.

Mrs. Crump said the poor child had walked out in his sleep, and Diamond

thought she ought to know, and did not contradict her for anything he

knew, it might be so indeed. He let them talk on about him, and said

nothing; and when, after their astonishment was over, and Miss Coleman

had given him a sponge-cake, it was decreed that Mrs. Crump should take

him to his mother, he was quite satisfied.

His mother had to get out of bed to open the door when Mrs. Crump

knocked. She was indeed surprised to see her, boy; and having taken

him in her arms and carried him to his bed, returned and had a long

confabulation with Mrs. Crump, for they were still talking when Diamond

fell fast asleep, and could hear them no longer.

CHAPTER III. OLD DIAMOND

DIAMOND woke very early in the morning, and thought what a curious dream

he had had. But the memory grew brighter and brighter in his head, until

it did not look altogether like a dream, and he began to doubt whether

he had not really been abroad in the wind last night. He came to the

conclusion that, if he had really been brought home to his mother by

Mrs. Crump, she would say something to him about it, and that would

settle the matter. Then he got up and dressed himself, but, finding that

his father and mother were not yet stirring, he went down the ladder to

the stable. There he found that even old Diamond was not awake yet, for

he, as well as young Diamond, always got up the moment he woke, and

now he was lying as flat as a horse could lie upon his nice trim bed of

straw.

“I'll give old Diamond a surprise,” thought the boy; and creeping up

very softly, before the horse knew, he was astride of his back. Then

it was young Diamond's turn to have more of a surprise than he had

expected; for as with an earthquake, with a rumbling and a rocking

hither and thither, a sprawling of legs and heaving as of many backs,

young Diamond found himself hoisted up in the air, with both hands

twisted in the horse's mane. The next instant old Diamond lashed out

with both his hind legs, and giving one cry of terror young Diamond

found himself lying on his neck, with his arms as far round it as they

would go. But then the horse stood as still as a stone, except that he

lifted his head gently up to let the boy slip down to his back. For

when he heard young Diamond's cry he knew that there was nothing to

kick about; for young Diamond was a good boy, and old Diamond was a good

horse, and the one was all right on the back of the other.

As soon as Diamond had got himself comfortable on the saddle place, the

horse began pulling at the hay, and the boy began thinking. He had never

mounted Diamond himself before, and he had never got off him without

being lifted down. So he sat, while the horse ate, wondering how he was

to reach the ground.

But while he meditated, his mother woke, and her first thought was to

see her boy. She had visited him twice during the night, and found him

sleeping quietly. Now his bed was empty, and she was frightened.

“Diamond! Diamond! Where are you, Diamond?” she called out.

Diamond turned his head where he sat like a knight on his steed in

enchanted stall, and cried aloud,–

“Here, mother!”

“Where, Diamond?” she returned.

“Here, mother, on Diamond's back.”

She came running to the ladder, and peeping down, saw him aloft on the

great horse.

“Come down, Diamond,” she said.

“I can't,” answered Diamond.

“How did you get up?” asked his mother.

“Quite easily,” answered he; “but when I got up, Diamond would get up

too, and so here I am.”

His mother thought he had been walking in his sleep again, and hurried

down the ladder. She did not much like going up to the horse, for she

had not been used to horses; but she would have gone into a lion's den,

not to say a horse's stall, to help her boy. So she went and lifted him

off Diamond's back, and felt braver all her life after. She carried him

in her arms up to her room; but, afraid of frightening him at his own

sleep-walking, as she supposed it, said nothing about last night. Before

the next day was over, Diamond had almost concluded the whole adventure

a dream.

For a week his mother watched him very carefully–going into the loft

several times a night–as often, in fact, as she woke. Every time she

found him fast asleep.

All that week it was hard weather. The grass showed white in the morning

with the hoar-frost which clung like tiny comfits to every blade. And

as Diamond's shoes were not good, and his mother had not quite saved

up enough money to get him the new pair she so much wanted for him,

she would not let him run out. He played all his games over and over

indoors, especially that of driving two chairs harnessed to the baby's

cradle; and if they did not go very fast, they went as fast as could be

expected of the best chairs in the world, although one of them had only

three legs, and the other only half a back.

At length his mother brought home his new shoes, and no sooner did she

find they fitted him than she told him he might run out in the yard and

amuse himself for an hour.

The sun was going down when he flew from the door like a bird from its

cage. All the world was new to him. A great fire of sunset burned on the

top of the gate that led from the stables to the house; above the fire

in the sky lay a large lake of green light, above that a golden cloud,

and over that the blue of the wintry heavens. And Diamond thought that,

next to his own home, he had never seen any place he would like so much

to live in as that sky. For it is not fine things that make home a nice

place, but your mother and your father.

As he was looking at the lovely colours, the gates were thrown open,

and there was old Diamond and his friend in the carriage, dancing with

impatience to get at their stalls and their oats. And in they came.

Diamond was not in the least afraid of his father driving over him, but,

careful not to spoil the grand show he made with his fine horses and his

multitudinous cape, with a red edge to every fold, he slipped out of the

way and let him dash right on to the stables. To be quite safe he had

to step into the recess of the door that led from the yard to the

shrubbery.

As he stood there he remembered how the wind had driven him to this same

spot on the night of his dream. And once more he was almost sure that

it was no dream. At all events, he would go in and see whether things

looked at all now as they did then. He opened the door, and passed

through the little belt of shrubbery. Not a flower was to be seen in the

beds on the lawn. Even the brave old chrysanthemums and Christmas roses

had passed away before the frost. What? Yes! There was one! He ran and

knelt down to look at it.

It was a primrose–a dwarfish thing, but perfect in shape–a

baby-wonder. As he stooped his face to see it close, a little wind began

to blow, and two or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower

shook and waved and quivered, but the primrose lay still in the green

hollow, looking up at the sky, and not seeming to know that the wind was

blowing at all. It was just a one eye that the dull black wintry earth

had opened to look at the sky with. All at once Diamond thought it was

saying its prayers, and he ought not to be staring at it so. He ran to

the stable to see his father make Diamond's bed. Then his father took

him in his arms, carried him up the ladder, and set him down at the

table where they were going to have their tea.

“Miss is very poorly,” said Diamond's father. “Mis'ess has been to

the doctor with her to-day, and she looked very glum when she came out

again. I was a-watching of them to see what doctor had said.”

“And didn't Miss look glum too?” asked his mother.

“Not half as glum as Mis'ess,” returned the coachman. “You see–”

But he lowered his voice, and Diamond could not make out more than a

word here and there. For Diamond's father was not only one of the finest

of coachmen to look at, and one of the best of drivers, but one of

the most discreet of servants as well. Therefore he did not talk about

family affairs to any one but his wife, whom he had proved better than

himself long ago, and was careful that even Diamond should hear nothing

he could repeat again concerning master and his family.

It was bed-time soon, and Diamond went to bed and fell fast asleep.

He awoke all at once, in the dark.

“Open the window, Diamond,” said a voice.

Now Diamond's mother had once more pasted up North Wind's window.

“Are you North Wind?” said Diamond: “I don't hear you blowing.”

“No; but you hear me talking. Open the window, for I haven't overmuch

time.”

“Yes,” returned Diamond. “But, please, North Wind, where's the use? You

left me all alone last time.”

He had got up on his knees, and was busy with his nails once more at the

paper over the hole in the wall. For now that North Wind spoke again,

he remembered all that had taken place before as distinctly as if it had

happened only last night.

“Yes, but that was your fault,” returned North Wind. “I had work to do;

and, besides, a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.”

“But I'm not a gentleman,” said Diamond, scratching away at the paper.

“I hope you won't say so ten years after this.”

“I'm going to be a coachman, and a coachman is not a gentleman,”

 persisted Diamond.

“We call your father a gentleman in our house,” said North Wind.

“He doesn't call himself one,” said Diamond.

“That's of no consequence: every man ought to be a gentleman, and your

father is one.”

Diamond was so pleased to hear this that he scratched at the paper like

ten mice, and getting hold of the edge of it, tore it off. The next

instant a young girl glided across the bed, and stood upon the floor.

“Oh dear!” said Diamond, quite dismayed; “I didn't know–who are you,

please?”

“I'm North Wind.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes. Make haste.”

“But you're no bigger than me.”

“Do you think I care about how big or how little I am? Didn't you see me

this evening? I was less then.”

“No. Where was you?”

“Behind the leaves of the primrose. Didn't you see them blowing?”

“Yes.”

“Make haste, then, if you want to go with me.”

“But you are not big enough to take care of me. I think you are only

Miss North Wind.”

“I am big enough to show you the way, anyhow. But if you won't come,

why, you must stay.”

“I must dress myself. I didn't mind with a grown lady, but I couldn't go

with a little girl in my night-gown.”

“Very well. I'm not in such a hurry as I was the other night. Dress

as fast as you can, and I'll go and shake the primrose leaves till you

come.”

“Don't hurt it,” said Diamond.

North Wind broke out in a little laugh like the breaking of silver

bubbles, and was gone in a moment. Diamond saw–for it was a starlit

night, and the mass of hay was at a low ebb now–the gleam of something

vanishing down the stair, and, springing out of bed, dressed himself as

fast as ever he could. Then he crept out into the yard, through the

door in the wall, and away to the primrose. Behind it stood North

Wind, leaning over it, and looking at the flower as if she had been its

mother.

“Come along,” she said, jumping up and holding out her hand.

Diamond took her hand. It was cold, but so pleasant and full of life, it

was better than warm. She led him across the garden. With one bound she

was on the top of the wall. Diamond was left at the foot.

“Stop, stop!” he cried. “Please, I can't jump like that.”

“You don't try” said North Wind, who from the top looked down a foot

taller than before.

“Give me your hand again, and I will, try” said Diamond.

She reached down, Diamond laid hold of her hand, gave a great spring,

and stood beside her.

“This is nice!” he said.

Another bound, and they stood in the road by the river. It was full

tide, and the stars were shining clear in its depths, for it lay still,

waiting for the turn to run down again to the sea. They walked along its

side. But they had not walked far before its surface was covered with

ripples, and the stars had vanished from its bosom.

And North Wind was now tall as a full-grown girl. Her hair was flying

about her head, and the wind was blowing a breeze down the river. But

she turned aside and went up a narrow lane, and as she went her hair

fell down around her.

“I have some rather disagreeable work to do to-night,” she said, “before

I get out to sea, and I must set about it at once. The disagreeable work

must be looked after first.”

So saying, she laid hold of Diamond and began to run, gliding along

faster and faster. Diamond kept up with her as well as he could. She

made many turnings and windings, apparently because it was not quite

easy to get him over walls and houses. Once they ran through a hall

where they found back and front doors open. At the foot of the stair

North Wind stood still, and Diamond, hearing a great growl, started in

terror, and there, instead of North Wind, was a huge wolf by his side.

He let go his hold in dismay, and the wolf bounded up the stair. The

windows of the house rattled and shook as if guns were firing, and the

sound of a great fall came from above. Diamond stood with white face

staring up at the landing.

“Surely,” he thought, “North Wind can't be eating one of the children!”

 Coming to himself all at once, he rushed after her with his little fist

clenched. There were ladies in long trains going up and down the stairs,

and gentlemen in white neckties attending on them, who stared at him,

but none of them were of the people of the house, and they said nothing.

Before he reached the head of the stair, however, North Wind met him,

took him by the hand, and hurried down and out of the house.

“I hope you haven't eaten a baby, North Wind!” said Diamond, very

solemnly.

North Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping on faster. Her grassy robe

swept and swirled about her steps, and wherever it passed over withered

leaves, they went fleeing and whirling in spirals, and running on their

edges like wheels, all about her feet.

“No,” she said at last, “I did not eat a baby. You would not have had

to ask that foolish question if you had not let go your hold of me. You

would have seen how I served a nurse that was calling a child bad names,

and telling her she was wicked. She had been drinking. I saw an ugly gin

bottle in a cupboard.”

“And you frightened her?” said Diamond.

“I believe so!” answered North Wind laughing merrily. “I flew at her

throat, and she tumbled over on the floor with such a crash that they

ran in. She'll be turned away to-morrow–and quite time, if they knew as

much as I do.”

“But didn't you frighten the little one?”

“She never saw me. The woman would not have seen me either if she had

not been wicked.”

“Oh!” said Diamond, dubiously.

“Why should you see things,” returned North Wind, “that you wouldn't

understand or know what to do with? Good people see good things; bad

people, bad things.”

“Then are you a bad thing?”

“No. For you see me, Diamond, dear,” said the girl, and she looked down

at him, and Diamond saw the loving eyes of the great lady beaming from

the depths of her falling hair.

“I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me. If

I had put on any other shape than a wolf's she would not have seen me,

for that is what is growing to be her own shape inside of her.”

“I don't know what you mean,” said Diamond, “but I suppose it's all

right.”

They were now climbing the slope of a grassy ascent. It was Primrose

Hill, in fact, although Diamond had never heard of it. The moment they

reached the top, North Wind stood and turned her face towards London The

stars were still shining clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud

to be seen. The air was sharp, but Diamond did not find it cold.

“Now,” said the lady, “whatever you do, do not let my hand go. I might

have lost you the last time, only I was not in a hurry then: now I am in

a hurry.”

Yet she stood still for a moment.