The Princess and the Goblin

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER 11

  The Old Lady's Bedroom

  Nothing more happened worth telling for some time. The autumn came andwent by. There were no more flowers in the garden. The wind blewstrong, and howled among the rocks. The rain fell, and drenched thefew yellow and red leaves that could not get off the bare branches.Again and again there would be a glorious morning followed by a pouringafternoon, and sometimes, for a week together, there would be rain,nothing but rain, all day, and then the most lovely cloudless night,with the sky all out in full-blown stars--not one missing. But theprincess could not see much of them, for she went to bed early. Thewinter drew on, and she found things growing dreary. When it was toostormy to go out, and she had got tired of her toys, Lootie would takeher about the house, sometimes to the housekeeper's room, where thehousekeeper, who was a good, kind old woman, made much ofher--sometimes to the servants' hall or the kitchen, where she was notprincess merely, but absolute queen, and ran a great risk of beingspoiled. Sometimes she would run off herself to the room where themen-at-arms whom the king had left sat, and they showed her their armsand accoutrements and did what they could to amuse her. Still at timesshe found it very dreary, and often and often wished that her hugegreat grandmother had not been a dream.

  One morning the nurse left her with the housekeeper for a while. Toamuse her she turned out the contents of an old cabinet upon the table.The little princess found her treasures, queer ancient ornaments, andmany things the use of which she could not imagine, far moreinteresting than her own toys, and sat playing with them for two hoursor more. But, at length, in handling a curious old-fashioned brooch,she ran the pin of it into her thumb, and gave a little scream with thesharpness of the pain, but would have thought little more of it had notthe pain increased and her thumb begun to swell. This alarmed thehousekeeper greatly. The nurse was fetched; the doctor was sent for;her hand was poulticed, and long before her usual time she was put tobed. The pain still continued, and although she fell asleep anddreamed a good many dreams, there was the pain always in every dream.At last it woke her UP.

  The moon was shining brightly into the room. The poultice had fallenoff her hand and it was burning hot. She fancied if she could hold itinto the moonlight that would cool it. So she got out of bed, withoutwaking the nurse who lay at the other end of the room, and went to thewindow. When she looked out she saw one of the men-at-arms walking inthe garden with the moonlight glancing on his armour. She was justgoing to tap on the window and call him, for she wanted to tell him allabout it, when she bethought herself that that might wake Lootie, andshe would put her into her bed again. So she resolved to go to thewindow of another room, and call him from there. It was so much nicerto have somebody to talk to than to lie awake in bed with the burningpain in her hand. She opened the door very gently and went through thenursery, which did not look into the garden, to go to the other window.But when she came to the foot of the old staircase there was the moonshining down from some window high up, and making the worm-eaten oaklook very strange and delicate and lovely. In a moment she was puttingher little feet one after the other in the silvery path up the stair,looking behind as she went, to see the shadow they made in the middleof the silver. Some little girls would have been afraid to findthemselves thus alone in the middle of the night, but Irene was aprincess.

  As she went slowly up the stair, not quite sure that she was notdreaming, suddenly a great longing woke up in her heart to try oncemore whether she could not find the old lady with the silvery hair. 'Ifshe is a dream,' she said to herself, 'then I am the likelier to findher, if I am dreaming.'

  So up and up she went, stair after stair, until she Came to the manyrooms--all just as she had seen them before. Through passage afterpassage she softly sped, comforting herself that if she should lose herway it would not matter much, because when she woke she would findherself in her own bed with Lootie not far off. But, as if she hadknown every step of the way, she walked straight to the door at thefoot of the narrow stair that led to the tower.

  'What if I should realreality-really find my beautiful old grandmotherup there!' she said to herself as she crept up the steep steps.

  When she reached the top she stood a moment listening in the dark, forthere was no moon there. Yes! it was! it was the hum of thespinning-wheel! What a diligent grandmother to work both day andnight! She tapped gently at the door.

  'Come in, Irene,'said the sweet voice.

  The princess opened the door and entered. There was the moonlightstreaming in at the window, and in the middle of the moonlight sat theold lady in her black dress with the white lace, and her silvery hairmingling with the moonlight, so that you could not have told which waswhich. 'Come in, Irene,' she said again. 'Can you tell me what I amspinning?'

  'She speaks,' thought Irene, 'just as if she had seen me five minutesago, or yesterday at the farthest. --No,' she answered; 'I don't knowwhat you are spinning. Please, I thought you were a dream. Whycouldn't I find you before, great-great-grandmother?'

  'That you are hardly old enough to understand. But you would havefound me sooner if you hadn't come to think I was a dream. I will giveyou one reason though why you couldn't find me. I didn't want you tofind me.'

  'Why, please?'

  'Because I did not want Lootie to know I was here.'

  'But you told me to tell Lootie.'

  'Yes. But I knew Lootie would not believe you. If she were to see mesitting spinning here, she wouldn't believe me, either.'

  'Why?'

  'Because she couldn't. She would rub her eyes, and go away and say shefelt queer, and forget half of it and more, and then say it had beenall a dream.'

  'Just like me,' said Irene, feeling very much ashamed of herself.

  'Yes, a good deal like you, but not just like you; for you've comeagain; and Lootie wouldn't have come again. She would have said, No,no--she had had enough of such nonsense.'

  'Is it naughty of Lootie, then?'

  'It would be naughty of you. I've never done anything for Lootie.'

  'And you did wash my face and hands for me,' said Irene, beginning tocry.

  The old lady smiled a sweet smile and said:

  'I'm not vexed with you, my child--nor with Lootie either. But I don'twant you to say anything more to Lootie about me. If she should askyou, you must just be silent. But I do not think she will ask you.'

  All the time they talked the old lady kept on spinning.

  'You haven't told me yet what I am spinning,' she said.

  'Because I don't know. It's very pretty stuff.'

  It was indeed very pretty stuff. There was a good bunch of it on thedistaff attached to the spinning-wheel, and in the moonlight it shonelike--what shall I say it was like? It was not white enough forsilver--yes, it was like silver, but shone grey rather than white, andglittered only a little. And the thread the old lady drew out from itwas so fine that Irene could hardly see it. 'I am spinning this foryou, my child.'

  'For me! What am I to do with it, please?'

  'I will tell you by and by. But first I will tell you what it is. Itis spider-web--of a particular kind. My pigeons bring it me from overthe great sea. There is only one forest where the spiders live whomake this particular kind--the finest and strongest of any. I havenearly finished my present job. What is on the rock now will beenough. I have a week's work there yet, though,' she added, looking atthe bunch.

  'Do you work all day and all night, too,great-great-great-great-grandmother?' said the princess, thinking to bevery polite with so many greats.

  'I am not quite so great as all that,' she answered, smiling almostmerrily. 'If you call me grandmother, that will do. No, I don't workevery night--only moonlit nights, and then no longer than the moonshines upon my wheel. I shan't work much longer tonight.'

  'And what will you do next, grandmother?' 'Go to bed. Would you liketo see my bedroom?'

  'Yes, that I should.'

  'Then I think I won't work any lo
nger tonight. I shall be in goodtime.'

  The old lady rose, and left her wheel standing just as it was. You seethere was no good in putting it away, for where there was not anyfurniture there was no danger of being untidy.

  Then she took Irene by the hand, but it was her bad hand and Irene gavea little cry of pain. 'My child!' said her grandmother, 'what is thematter?'

  Irene held her hand into the moonlight, that the old lady might see it,and told her all about it, at which she looked grave. But she onlysaid: 'Give me your other hand'; and, having led her out upon thelittle dark landing, opened the door on the opposite side of it. Whatwas Irene's surprise to see the loveliest room she had ever seen in herlife! It was large and lofty, and dome-shaped. From the centre hung alamp as round as a ball, shining as if with the brightest moonlight,which made everything visible in the room, though not so clearly thatthe princess could tell what many of the things were. A large oval bedstood in the middle, with a coverlid of rose colour, and velvetcurtains all round it of a lovely pale blue. The walls were alsoblue--spangled all over with what looked like stars of silver.

  The old lady left her and, going to a strange-looking cabinet, openedit and took out a curious silver casket. Then she sat down on a lowchair and, calling Irene, made her kneel before her while she looked ather hand. Having examined it, she opened the casket, and took from ita little ointment. The sweetest odour filled the room--like that ofroses and lilies--as she rubbed the ointment gently all over the hotswollen hand. Her touch was so pleasant and cool that it seemed todrive away the pain and heat wherever it came.

  'Oh, grandmother! it is so nice!' said Irene. 'Thank you; thank you.'

  Then the old lady went to a chest of drawers, and took out a largehandkerchief of gossamer-like cambric, which she tied round her hand.

  'I don't think I can let you go away tonight,' she said. 'Would youlike to sleep with me?'

  'Oh, yes, yes, dear grandmother,' said Irene, and would have clappedher hands, forgetting that she could not.

  'You won't be afraid, then, to go to bed with such an old woman?'

  'No. You are so beautiful, grandmother.'

  'But I am very old.'

  'And I suppose I am very young. You won't mind sleeping with such avery young woman, grandmother?'

  'You sweet little pertness!' said the old lady, and drew her towardsher, and kissed her on the forehead and the cheek and the mouth. Thenshe got a large silver basin, and having poured some water into it madeIrene sit on the chair, and washed her feet. This done, she was readyfor bed. And oh, what a delicious bed it was into which hergrandmother laid her! She hardly could have told she was lying uponanything: she felt nothing but the softness.

  The old lady having undressed herself lay down beside her.

  'Why don't you put out your moon?' asked the princess.

  'That never goes out, night or day,' she answered. 'In the darkestnight, if any of my pigeons are out on a message, they always see mymoon and know where to fly to.'

  'But if somebody besides the pigeons were to see it--somebody about thehouse, I mean--they would come to look what it was and find you.'

  'The better for them, then,' said the old lady. 'But it does nothappen above five times in a hundred years that anyone does see it.

  The greater part of those who do take it for a meteor, wink their eyes,and forget it again. Besides, nobody could find the room except Ipleased. Besides, again--I will tell you a secret--if that light wereto go out you would fancy yourself lying in a bare garret, on a heap ofold straw, and would not see one of the pleasant things round about youall the time.'

  'I hope it will never go out,' said the princess.

  'I hope not. But it is time we both went to sleep. Shall I take youin my arms?'

  The little princess nestled close up to the old lady, who took her inboth her arms and held her close to her bosom.

  'Oh, dear! this is so nice!' said the princess. 'I didn't knowanything in the world could be so comfortable. I should like to liehere for ever.'

  'You may if you will,' said the old lady. 'But I must put you to onetrial-not a very hard one, I hope. This night week you must come backto me. If you don't, I do not know when you may find me again, and youwill soon want me very much.'

  'Oh! please, don't let me forget.'

  'You shall not forget. The only question is whether you will believe Iam anywhere--whether you will believe I am anything but a dream. Youmay be sure I will do all I can to help you to come. But it will restwith yourself, after all. On the night of next Friday, you must cometo me. Mind now.'

  'I will try,' said the princess.

  'Then good night,' said the old lady, and kissed the forehead which layin her bosom.

  In a moment more the little princess was dreaming in the midst of theloveliest dreams--of summer seas and moonlight and mossy springs andgreat murmuring trees, and beds of wild flowers with such odours as shehad never smelled before. But, after all, no dream could be morelovely than what she had left behind when she fell asleep.

  In the morning she found herself in her own bed. There was nohandkerchief or anything else on her hand, only a sweet odour lingeredabout it. The swelling had all gone down; the prick of the brooch hadvanished--in fact, her hand was perfectly well.