The House Without Windows · Chapter 2 (1/3)

As Eepersip journeyed on, the meadow grew dimmer in her mind, and the memory of how the sea had looked grew brighter. She couldn’t see it now, for she was in a valley; but she knew that she was going in the right direction. The spring breeze was blowing; it was not cold, and the breeze stirred the air gently, so that it wasn’t hot. Occasional whiffs from the meadow came to Eepersip with that breeze; but when she had gone about two miles this fragrance ceased.

That afternoon she came into a great forest where strange, mysterious shadows passed back and forth in a frightening way. She hurried on as fast as she could, but she had to spend a night in it⁠—one alarming, terrible night. The next day she came out, torn and bedraggled with fighting her way through the dense thickets. Several times she had to cross rivers⁠—some of them without a bridge, though luckily none of these was over her depth. Another day had passed. Nightfall found her wearily climbing a very high hill. The reflection of the moon showed her where the ocean was. It seemed hardly any nearer than before!

The third morning she descended into a rich and fertile valley. A small brook was winding down it, and where the weeping willows dipped into the current it bubbled and sang. This valley was the broadest that Eepersip had yet gone through. But after a long time she came out of it against a high, precipitous cliff. Up the side of this she climbed, digging her toes into the cracks between the rocks. At last she got to the top; and a long, weary climb it had been. She was now on a grassy hill where bloomed daisies shining like stars, and little buttercups of gold. There were butterflies, too, with brilliant wings, and they hovered and fluttered over the flowers. And lo! there was the ocean, nearer now, with the sun shining on it; and Eepersip could see the surf rolling and foaming. Shrill cries pierced the air⁠—the cries of birds, of seagulls swooping inland in wide circles. And as she went on through the waving grass she could smell the delicious salt air of the sea.

But, alas, she met with a hindrance. Between her and the coast there was a valley extending for miles, and poor Eepersip would have to clamber down a precipitous cliff, through the valley, and up another cliff. Down she went, rather unwillingly but knowing that she would get there sometime. At last she came to the bottom. It wasn’t so bad down there⁠—there was a lovely lakelet at which she refreshed herself with a drink; it was grassy, and there were flowers. But it was stiflingly hot. There was a patch of pine woods here and there, but it was hot even in the shade of the great trees.

She stumbled on in the almost blinding heat, clambering up the other great precipice⁠—the wall of the valley. From the top she looked down, and, seeing again that ponderous cliff, she wondered how she could ever have got up it. Then she lay down on the grass, and in a moment was asleep.

When she awoke, the strong wind was blowing again. It made her almost fly through the cold, salty air. Before her was the long-sought ocean, with the waves rolling and the gulls swooping, diving and screaming. She flew; her feet could not stay still. She was tired no longer⁠—she didn’t feel the smallest effects of her wearisome journey.

Suddenly she heard a sound⁠—the magical sound of the waves as they crashed on the rocks. In they would come, pounding, roaring, breaking upon the shore. The foam and spume would fly back and leap up into the air. Everything sounded strange⁠—stranger than anything Eepersip had ever heard. No words can describe what she imagined. She never had had such a lot of emotions in her head at the same time. She tried to describe them to herself, but soon gave it up as useless. She thought: “Here I am; I see it; you don’t need to tell me about it!” And then she realized that she was alone, knowing in her own mind what it was like, yet unable to stop wishing that she could describe the hollow, ringing sound. Was she becoming homesick? No! it was sheer delight.

For a moment she paused. Then she bounded through the yellow sand, and, ever going faster and faster, she came to the edge of her sea. Her longing had been fulfilled.

This beach was almost overhung at one end by a great shelf of rock. The sand was glistening with shells of all colours and bordered with seaweeds washed up. Tiny sandpipers’ tracks ran all over it. Eepersip stayed there a long time, gazing into the waves, gazing at everything.

The rock-ledge at one end of the beach had been catching her eye for some time. She watched how fearlessly the gulls plunged on quivering wings, down, down, then rose again, covered with silvery drops, to fly here and there. Then she would look back at the little precipice. She thought: “I cannot fly! They do it from the air, but I cannot. I can do it from the precipice! Why not?” Then, aloud: “I will be a bird⁠—I will do it!”

She walked back to the point where the cliff towered from the beach. She climbed up. She selected, in the water so far below, a place that was free from the treacherous-looking rocks. Then, swaying her arms a moment and plucking up high courage, she gave a flying leap and landed in the deep water.

Another miracle! She had never had a chance to swim before, but somehow she did it naturally now. It was an instinct in her to kick with her legs and throw out her arms in the right way. Fortunately she had landed in the place without rocks. Shaking herself in imitation of the gulls, so that silvery drops flew from her in all directions, she began to swim about. She played in the water for a time, entranced, singing as she had never done before, even in the meadow. After a while she came out, all shining, laughing and dancing. But it was then too late in the day to play any more; so she lay down on the sand, well out of reach of the tide, and slept, with the murmuring of the sea in her ears all night.

It had been high tide; but the tide was now going out, and near the beach the tops of the great rocks were appearing. To Eepersip, who had never before been near the ocean, these things which happened every day were strange and delightful, and she could not look at them enough. Each wave was pure blue, topped and trimmed with spray. As the waters drew back Eepersip had to retreat; for the low tide revealed more and more rocks, and the spray that hit upon them flew back farther and farther. Gradually they were left bare and dry, and Eepersip arranged seaweeds and sea-plants in the little pools left in their hollows. When, at last, high tide came in, she sorrowed to watch them become part of the sea again. But she knew, of course, that when the tide went out other pools would be left⁠—perhaps more than there had been before.

Among the rocks at the back of the beach Eepersip found a pool made by leaping spray from a storm. She trimmed it with seaweeds of brown and green. She took some of the dried low-tide snails from the rocks around it and cast them into the sea. With her hands she caught some sluggish yet pretty little fishes and put them into her pool. As she was doing this she noticed how the tide was coming in⁠—she had been so intent upon her task that she hadn’t seen it. It was now almost up to her. She stopped what she was doing and watched it anxiously, afraid that it was going to reach her pool. But, to her great joy, it didn’t. The waves lapped as if they wanted it very much, but they couldn’t quite touch it; and Eepersip, worried no longer, continued her happy playing.

In this way the days passed, with something new all the time. But she did not forget her little pool. She tended it, putting in fresh plants and rocks, and replacing a fish if it died.

She slept in a crevice in the rocks at the end of the beach. There was a tunnel under the rocks that the water had cut; if she crept to the farther end, no tide could reach her. There was a spring in the pasture in back of the beach, about a hundred yards away, and there Eepersip got her supply of fresh water. It made a merry brooklet which ran bubbling down a small hill and into the sea. When it was stormy she had a habit of merely snuggling under the rocks as far as she could go, to watch the glistening whitecaps and listen to the crashing surf. But before she had seen many storms she stayed out when they weren’t too severe, and sometimes played about in the waves⁠—and she liked to be ducked.

In her explorations along the shore one day Eepersip found a great raft, made from interlacing twigs and plastered over with clay and pitch. Here and there great water-soaked ropes bound it firmly. It had been washed up on the shore, and from a long period in the sea, had become terribly slimy and waterlogged. Eepersip hauled it to the water to see if it would hold her weight, but it sank immediately. So she let it dry off in the sun for a long time; and at last, when it had become quite dry, she tried again. This time it held her. It started drifting off to sea with her on it, but she quickly slipped off and took it to shore again. A few days afterward Eepersip found a board, about three feet long and broad enough to serve perfectly as a paddle.

That was what she had wanted. She hauled the raft out to her depth, climbed on to it, took the paddle, and pushed off merrily.

Under strong strokes the water whirled and rushed, and the raft pushed through it. Sometimes she came to a sand-flat, and again to such a deep place that when she looked down all she could see was menacing shadows. Once the raft came into a shoal of carmine-coloured fishes with very long pointed fins. Of course, they scattered in all directions as she came amongst them.

When she had started it was dawn. By midday, with the help of a favourable wind, she was out of sight of land. Then she saw that, if she were going to get back to the beach by evening, she must hurry and use her remaining daylight in that direction. So she turned about, with great difficulty because of the wind, and then she started homeward. But everything that had before been favourable was now against her; with her clumsy craft she could make no headway, and the waves were rising higher all the time. So she gave up, thinking that possibly the wind would soon change or calm down altogether. But this did not happen.

She was dashed about wildly, ever going farther from land, and seeing nothing save the unlimited expanse of rough water. Yet, even in her fright, she enjoyed it. She was not hurt at all, and she had only to cling tight to the raft. The sensation of being so dashed about and of riding up and down on the waves was glorious.

All the same, when it began to grow darker, darker, the wind remaining steady, she began to wish she had not ventured forth, but had stayed in shelter and safety at her little beach. She had always had great fun watching the storms, the high spray, the wind-tossed gulls; but now she saw that she had wished for rather too much.

It became steadily blacker, and still she was borne on, making no resistance now, for she saw how useless it was. By the faint remaining light from where the sun had set, she saw ahead of her a dark pointed object rising out of the water. She knew that it was a rock; and, afraid of being dashed against it, she began resisting with her paddle. Extreme fright made her strokes powerful, and she actually managed to slow up the raft a little. She came gently against the edge of the rock, fastened her raft to it by means of one of the ropes, and climbed up to its peak. From there, the sea, with its wild waves, was like the sky, full of weird cloud-caves, fringed with light from a hidden moon.

She looked for a long time; she looked steadily. And then, not far off, she saw a dark mass which, outlined against the deep blue of the night sky, appeared to be land⁠—blessed land! She realized that the waves were going straight toward it. With a cry of joy, she unfastened her raft, leaped upon it, gave a useless push with her paddle, and went on.

Soon she came to the shore⁠—a smooth beach. She pulled up her raft, well out of reach of the advancing tide, and started for the bushes to find a place to sleep. For the first time since night had fallen, she noticed the wondrous beauty of the moon, almost full, and the stars that showed faintly their silvery faces. She crawled in among the bushes, and, watching all these lovely things and listening to the soft murmuring of the waves, which were now calm again, she fell into a deep, delicious sleep.

The next day the sea was absolutely calm. The sun was shining brilliantly on the water, making it dance and sparkle. Even Eepersip, who was so accustomed to waking in a different place from where she had been yesterday, was surprised to find herself where she was, and she had to rub her eyes hard to make sure that she was not dreaming. Then the whole adventure came back to her⁠—the raft, the windy night, the raging sea, and the happy landing on this shore. There was her raft, lying on the beach just where she had left it.

She got up and started to explore along the beach, but suddenly she stopped short in her tracks; for there, covered with climbing vines and bordered with bright little flowers, was a cottage⁠—a little cottage in the midst of its forest of green leaves and bushes. Beautiful though it was, for a moment tears came to Eepersip’s eyes. Exactly so had her own cottage looked; through all these years she had remembered it⁠—just how it was in every detail. But this recollection soon passed away, in the dismay of realizing that she had come to an inhabited place. It was all so beautiful⁠—she had wanted to stay and explore⁠—and her hopes were crushed!

She stood stock-still for a long time, looking at the cottage. Nothing stirred within. Everything was quiet⁠—oh! so quiet. Stealthily as a mouse Eepersip crept toward it, opened the door, and went in. A house, a detested house!⁠—one of those houses that she had run away from. Everything came back to her⁠—those foolish coverings on the floors which they called carpets, at the windows those useless decorations called curtains. To think of it! when there was a carpet so much lovelier of green grass or of white sand⁠—and no windows to be curtained!

It was a delightful little room, all the same; with a brownish woolly carpet, a small fireplace, and little blue curtains of a delicate material. It was quite deserted, so she decided not to let it bother her.

A small back door opened into the lovely woods at the back of the house. Quickly Eepersip made her way out into the open; and everything looked twice as lovely as before. How light it was, with all the world a window, instead of those silly little peepholes fringed about! How much more glowing everything was! Oh, nothing in a house could compare with the world of light that Eepersip lived in!