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

Out here, the sunbeams made shadows wherever they struck; the birds twittered; the ripples lapped the shore caressingly. Otherwise all was still. But she was not thinking of the sea: she had decided to explore the woodland, for she felt, in a way, that it was her home. Following a little winding path, she came through a grove of white pines carpeted with needles and dotted with gnome-like toadstools of red and yellow, looking very bright and mysterious in that shady place. They were, to Eepersip, like the traces of some elfin revel, perhaps thrones of precious mineral. There were great boulders, too, covered with grey-green lichens, some bearing aloft tiny cup-like blossoms of pearly grey⁠—the cups from which the feasters had drunk their flower-wine. Seeing a lighter place ahead, she knew that she was coming out of the pine grove. A flood of pale green radiance greeted her, as she stepped out of the dimness of the woods into a meadow. White and yellow butterflies were fluttering over it in great flocks, with wings shining. Eepersip could hear birds chirping and singing. She passed on through the meadow and came again into woodlands, so thick now that hardly a sunbeam could penetrate the dense canopy of leaves.

After a while she emerged into a clearing. In the middle of it there was a pool, almost entirely surrounded with dark green moss, very soft, overhung by a boulder. It, too, had a covering of moss. A tiny stream flowed silently and mysteriously into the pool, which was so dark that Eepersip could just see its floor of dark sand. On the bottom grew strange star-leaved plants, and small fishes were nibbling them. It was all very strange and magical, it was so silent.

Eepersip stayed looking at this pool for a long time, and then she decided to follow the little brook which was trickling into it and see where it came from. She followed it through deep woodland for about three miles. All this way it was sluggish. Then the land changed abruptly; and Eepersip realized that she was climbing a steep and rugged hill. She went up and up on a rough path. It was very hard climbing, and she was becoming tired. At last she got to the top, and her happy eye looked back upon the way she had come.

She saw from that high perch the pool, into which she knew the little brook was trickling; the blotches which were clumps and patches of dark forest; the field, a mass of sparkling green light, a brilliant illumination to the gloomy pine forests around it; the cottage, a tiny brown speck in the distance⁠—and the sea, the billowing sea, with the spots of foam, the towering waves, and that green colour which the waves show when they are agitated. She could even see the gulls, no bigger than flies to her, swooping about; but she was too far away to hear their shrill, excited screams. Long and steadily she looked. And then⁠—the strangest thought Eepersip had ever experienced came to her happy mind. “Forgetfulness!” she whispered to herself. “Oh, I loved it so! and then, when it happened that I came to the woodlands again, why⁠—I forgot it. I must go back instantly. But I am so tired!”

Each wave seemed to bring a pain to Eepersip’s heart, as she watched the sea, like emerald, stretching away until it seemed to meet the blue sky. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and started down like a wild deer. Tearing through the woodlands, through the dense thickets and the brambles, she came out at last by the pool. But she had no eye for all its beauties; she had no mind but for the sea. She rested a second; then she was on her feet again, plunging, rearing, fighting her way through the woods. She came again, in the depths of exhaustion, into that pool of light, the meadow. Unable to move, she sank down in the delicious soft grass and watched the butterflies, like winged jewels, swooping above. Then she fell into a deep, heavy slumber.

She was awakened by shrill cries which pierced the air. Looking up, she saw a flock of gulls with their long, narrow wings, the colour of foam, winging their way toward the sea. Then she remembered that she, too, was supposed to be winging her way toward the sea, and she cried: “O happy birds, I would I were among you, to go with such flashing speed!” It seemed to her that the sea was in her care, and that she, through foolish forgetfulness, had wandered off from it⁠—wandered off from her guarding, leaving it to the mercy of the beasts. Of course, if she had thought a moment she would have seen how out of proportion this was, but she could do nothing but blame herself, and fancy a terrible monster who would come and drink it all up in her absence. And she began fighting and struggling against her tiredness, until, with one desperate effort, she managed to start running again. Then there was no stopping! Her old strength seemed to come back, the strength which she had had before starting her woodland explorations⁠—the result, as she thought now, of a foolish desire. Once she had started running again, her feet winged with a great longing, she sped along the ground.

Soon she passed the cottage; and then⁠—there was her sea again, just as she had left it, with the waves beating the sandy shore. The gulls were screaming and diving; everything was excited and trembling. With a cry of ecstasy, Eepersip sprang into the waves.

Many happy days Eepersip spent here, living in the vicinity of the hated little cottage. Since she had come from the sea she had worn a mermaid dress of seaweeds, fastened at the neck by a white shell with a hole through it. Her favourite play was with the waves. She could swim now, even under water, with a speed that surprised herself, and she dived gracefully from all the rocks that she came upon. But it was watching the sea that fascinated her more than anything else. She would sit for hours at a time on the rocks and listen to the waves bellowing beneath her. Sometimes, when they were very high, she would go down on the low rocks and shout with delight when the white spray rushed along and whirled itself up into her face. The waves would wash her over and over and play with her in their salty hands, and, though they seemed rough and wild, something always guided her away from the treacherous rocks which they headed for.

But she was born to wander, and it was not long before she was off on her explorations again. One sparkling day when the sun danced and glimmered on the little ripples, Eepersip started to explore the shoreline. Every sun-sparkle made her feel happier and happier, and every breath of salty air lighter, until at last she thought she must rise up into the air on strong wings. After exploring quite a while and finding nothing unusual, she sat down on a rock. Her auburn curls goldened in the sunlight, and her brown eyes sparkled.

After she had rested a while, watching the swooping seagulls, she decided to collect shells. She went along the beach some way, picking up shells and pebbles. But soon she tired of this and, feeling very hot, flung herself into the sea and played a while in the shallow water. Soon she thought that she would like to take a long swim, and she started out rapidly.

The waves came in higher and higher and brought with them great flocks of gulls sweeping around in wide graceful circles and uttering strange wild cries. Eepersip went on a long way until she saw a great rock ahead, draped with seaweeds of a dark green which were floating up and down with the motion of the waves. There were many crabs and snails caught in them. She was borne forward to the rock in a mighty wave, and, clinging to it hard, she waited until the wave drew back before climbing up. After she had rested some time she noticed a shoal of shining little fishes down in the water. Some were gold, some silver, and some had bands of dark blue. They all had ruby eyes. She watched them for a long time, lying on her stomach on the rock. She observed how they nosed down and fed on the oozy sea-plants on the bottom, which were covered with silver oxygen-bubbles. Also she could see, ’way down there, lovely bright corals of all colours. The water was rather muddy, but there was a current coming in underneath, and before long it was perfectly clear. The rock was tremendous, spreading out beneath the surface and going down, down, all covered with slime and seaweeds. Eepersip was fascinated watching those little fishes: she cared for nothing else. How long might she have watched them if the tide had not been rising and rising? Now it was touching her dress when a ripple larger than the others came in. And now⁠—a flash of lightning down there in the shadows! Eepersip could not realize what had happened. Then she thought: a great brownish-green fish had shot into the middle of the shoal, seized one of them, and carried it off. It was so quick that Eepersip could not think, until some time after it was all over, what had really happened.

She swam to the shore, but, to her surprise, it was quite a different shore from where she had started. She wondered where she was. She landed on a beach of white sand, so fine that it was impossible to hold. It was covered with shells of all colours. These interested her for a long time, and she piled up the whole beach with heaps of them that she had collected, and had a beautiful time playing with herself until⁠—

She saw some footprints! Footprints! They came down on the beach and apparently into the water, then out again, and disappeared in the woods on a narrow path which Eepersip had not noticed before.

But she was not interested in where they went to or where they came from. Her only thought was to get away⁠—away. It was then too late to go out in the sea again⁠—that is, far from shore. The sun was about to set. She would spend the night there, and then she would wander again. So she lay down and went to sleep.

The next morning when she woke up she was not alone. A little golden-haired boy with sky-blue eyes was looking at her. They looked at each other for a long time.

“Who are you?” he ventured at last.

Here was a puzzler. “Eepersip Eigleen,” she answered. “I mean,” she added doubtfully, “I was.”

“Who are you now, then?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I haven’t any name now. I’m just somebody. Have you any name?”

“Yes⁠—Toby⁠—Toby Carrenda.”

“Do you live here in the woods?”

“Yes.”

“In a house?”

He looked at her curiously a moment; then he said: “Yes, of course⁠—don’t you?”

“No!”

“How funny!”

“Yes, it is.” With a little reluctance⁠—“Will you play with me?”

Strange: here was Eepersip, who detested people, asking a little boy to play with her! It was simply that she, not having seen any children for a long time, was fascinated by this small boy who seemed so unafraid of her and so natural.

They wandered together on the beach and picked up shells. Then Eepersip asked the little boy if he liked to swim.

“Yes,” he said. “But do you think I’d better?”

“Yes⁠—why not?”

“All right.”

So he took off all his clothes and went in with her, and they splashed each other and had a lovely time. Eepersip wanted to make him a mermaid dress, but there was no seaweed right there, and she didn’t want to leave him. So they went into the woods to find some ferns to make him a nymph dress. She found a beautiful ferny glade, and sat down and began to weave ferns together, talking to him at the same time. When it was all done he was delighted.

“But, please,” he said, “can’t I have a shell, too?”

He touched the shell strung up on her seaweed dress. They looked all over the beach, and at last they found another shell with a hole all the way through. Then he was entirely content.

They went into the woods together and picked flowers, and Eepersip showed him how to make fern dresses and how to weave wreaths of flowers. They went into a grove of sunlit white pines and danced there together. Finally the little boy said: “I’m hungry, Eeserpip.”

“It’s Eepersip,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter much. I’ll find you something to eat.” After a while they found some flame-coloured berries, and then Eepersip dug up some white roots of which she was fond.

The boy said: “This is jolly, it is. Is this the way you get your food?”

“Always,” she said.

They played a while longer, and then someone called.

Eepersip had a strange feeling at that moment. She could not help feeling a certain reluctance when she had first played with him; then she had decided that he could not have anything to do with the civilized people she hated so. He must be separate from them, perhaps even a wild thing like herself. She felt a sensation of horror when the strange voice sounded. Then he was not alone⁠—then he lived in a house with other people!

Startled, she cried: “Who’s that?”

“My mother,” he answered.

“Then you don’t live here all by yourself?” She had a bitter feeling of disappointment.

“Oh, no.”

“I wish you did.” This escaped her before she could think. Strange, that some magic power in this child had already made her say as much as she had said.

“I must go now,” he said sorrowfully. “But I’ll be out this afternoon⁠—I guess.”

Eepersip fell on her knees in front of him and said entreatingly: “Will you do something for me?”

“I will⁠—maybe.”

“Don’t tell anybody about me.”

“Why?”

“Never mind why, but don’t, will you?”

“I want to.”

“Then I won’t play with you any more.”

“All right, Eepersip. I won’t.” She looked at him doubtfully. “I promise you I won’t. Goodbye. I like you.”

Eepersip was delighted with her little friend. She waited anxiously for him to come out. Presently he came.

“Eepersip,” he said, “will you swim with me again?”

They went in again, and this time Eepersip showed him how to swim, by holding him up while he kicked with his arms and legs. After a long time he could swim a little bit by himself; and then Eepersip took him to some rather high rocks and showed him how to jump in. At first he wouldn’t do it alone; she took his hand and they jumped in together. After that he did it alone, and screamed with laughter when he came up. Then Eepersip showed him how to go in head first, and he had so much faith in her that he tried it right off. Although he went rather flat, he liked it very much. The next time Eepersip bent him ’way over before he went in, and he straightened out and hit the water clean as an arrow. That was much better, he said.

Eepersip asked him what his mother had said about the fern dress, for he had gone in so quickly that he had forgotten his own clothes. He said that she had asked him about it, and he had said that he found it. Eepersip thanked him for not telling about her.

But she was discovered in spite of her caution. One day when they were playing in the woods, Mrs. Carrenda came out and found them. Eepersip dashed for the waves immediately, in spite of the fact that Toby’s mother called: “Don’t run away, little girl; I won’t hurt you!”

But Toby began to cry bitterly. “Why did you send her away, Mother?”

“I didn’t, Toby. She ran as soon as I came. Who is she?”

That Toby did not answer. There were two instincts equally strong struggling within him⁠—one to obey his mother, and the other to do what the strange girl asked him to with the threat of refusing to play with him if he did not.

“I can’t tell you, Mother,” he said courageously. It would have been as true if he had said “I don’t know,” for he knew nothing but her name, after all. However, he never stopped to think that knowing her name was not all there was to knowing her.

Mrs. Carrenda wisely pursued the matter no further; but she determined to keep watch.