按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
of foam； gathering itself up rather dizzily among the mossy stones below。 It was some time before it got over its vexation； it went boiling and muttering along； fighting with the rotten logs that lie across it； and making far more fuss than was necessary over every root that interfered with it。 We were getting tired of its ill…humour and talked of leaving it； when it suddenly grew sweet…tempered again； swooped around a curveand presto； we were in fairyland。
It was a little dell far in the heart of the woods。 A row of birches fringed the brook； and each birch seemed more exquisitely graceful and golden than her sisters。 The woods receded from it on every hand； leaving it lying in a pool of amber sunshine。 The yellow trees were mirrored in the placid stream； with now and then a leaf falling on the water； mayhap to drift away and be used； as Uncle Blair suggested； by some adventurous wood sprite who had it in mind to fare forth to some far…off； legendary region where all the brooks ran into the sea。
〃Oh； what a lovely place！〃 I exclaimed； looking around me with delight。
〃A spell of eternity is woven over it； surely；〃 murmured Uncle Blair。 〃Winter may not touch it； or spring ever revisit it。 It should be like this for ever。〃
〃Let us never come here again；〃 said the Story Girl softly； 〃never； no matter how often we may be in Carlisle。 Then we will never see it changed or different。 We can always remember it just as we see it now； and it will be like this for ever for us。〃
〃I'm going to sketch it；〃 said Uncle Blair。
While he sketched it the Story Girl and I sat on the banks of the brook and she told me the story of the Sighing Reed。 It was a very simple little story； that of the slender brown reed which grew by the forest pool and always was sad and sighing because it could not utter music like the brook and the birds and the winds。 All the bright； beautiful things around it mocked it and laughed at it for its folly。 Who would ever look for music in it； a plain； brown； unbeautiful thing？ But one day a youth came through the wood； he was as beautiful as the spring； he cut the brown reed and fashioned it according to his liking； and then he put it to his lips and breathed on it； and； oh； the music that floated through the forest！ It was so entrancing that everythingbrooks and birds and windsgrew silent to listen to it。 Never had anything so lovely been heard； it was the music that had for so long been shut up in the soul of the sighing reed and was set free at last through its pain and suffering。
I had heard the Story Girl tell many a more dramatic tale； but that one stands out for me in memory above them all； partly； perhaps； because of the spot in which she told it； partly because it was the last one I was to hear her tell for many yearsthe last one she was ever to tell me on the golden road。
When Uncle Blair had finished his sketch the shafts of sunshine were turning crimson and growing more and more remote； the early autumn twilight was falling over the woods。 We left our dell； saying good…bye to it for ever； as the Story Girl had suggested； and we went slowly homeward through the fir woods； where a haunting； indescribable odour stole out to meet us。
〃There is magic in the scent of dying fir；〃 Uncle Blair was saying aloud to himself； as if forgetting he was not quite alone。 〃It gets into our blood like some rare； subtly…compounded wine； and thrills us with unutterable sweetnesses； as of recollections from some other fairer life； lived in some happier star。 Compared to it； all other scents seem heavy and earth…born； luring to the valleys instead of the heights。 But the tang of the fir summons onward and upward to some 'far…off； divine event'some spiritual peak of attainment whence we shall see with unfaltering； unclouded vision the spires of some aerial City Beautiful； or the fulfilment of some fair； fadeless land of promise。〃
He was silent for a moment； then added in a lower tone；
〃Felicity； you loved the scent of dying fir。 If you were here tonight with meFelicityFelicity！〃
Something in his voice made me suddenly sad。 I was comforted when I felt the Story Girl slip her hand into mine。 So we walked out of the woods into the autumn dusk。
We were in a little valley。 Half…way up the opposite slope a brush fire was burning clearly and steadily in a maple grove。 There was something indescribably alluring in that fire； glowing so redly against the dark background of forest and twilit hill。
〃Let us go to it；〃 cried Uncle Blair； gaily； casting aside his sorrowful mood and catching our hands。 〃A wood fire at night has a fascination not to be resisted by those of mortal race。 Hasten we must not lose time。〃
〃Oh； it will burn a long time yet；〃 I gasped； for Uncle Blair was whisking us up the hill at a merciless rate。
〃You can't be sure。 It may have been lighted by some good； honest farmer…man； bent on tidying up his sugar orchard； but it may also； for anything we know； have been kindled by no earthly woodman as a beacon or summons to the tribes of fairyland； and may vanish away if we tarry。〃
It did not vanish and presently we found ourselves in the grove。 It was very beautiful； the fire burned with a clear； steady glow and a soft crackle； the long arcades beneath the trees were illuminated with a rosy radiance； beyond which lurked companies of gray and purple shadows。 Everything was very still and dreamy and remote。
〃It is impossible that out there； just over the hill； lies a village of men； where tame household lamps are shining；〃 said Uncle Blair。
〃I feel as if we must be thousands of miles away from everything we've ever known；〃 murmured the Story Girl。
〃So you are！〃 said Uncle Blair emphatically。 〃You're back in the youth of the raceback in the beguilement of the young world。 Everything is in this hourthe beauty of classic myths； the primal charm of the silent and the open； the lure of mystery。 Why； it's a time and place when and where everything might come truewhen the men in green might creep out to join hands and dance around the fire； or dryads steal from their trees to warm their white limbs； grown chilly in October frosts； by the blaze。 I wouldn't be much surprised if we should see something of the kind。 Isn't that the flash of an ivory shoulder through yonder gloom？ And didn't you see a queer little elfin face peering at us around that twisted gray trunk？ But one can't be sure。 Mortal eyesight is too slow and clumsy a thing to match against the flicker of a pixy…litten fire。〃
Hand in hand we wandered through that enchanted place； seeking the folk of elf…land； 〃and heard their mystic voices calling； from fairy knoll and haunted hill。〃 Not till the fire died down into ashes did we leave the grove。 Then we found that the full moon was gleaming lustrously from a cloudless sky across the valley。 Between us and her stretched up a tall pine； wondrously straight and slender and branchless to its very top； where it overflowed in a crest of dark boughs against the silvery splendour behind it。 Beyond； the hill farms were lying in a suave； white radiance。
〃Doesn't it seem a long； long time to you since we left home this afternoon？〃 asked the Story Girl。 〃And yet it is only a few hours。〃
Only a few hourstrue； yet such hours were worth a cycle of common years untouched by the glory and the dream。
CHAPTER XXIX
WE LOSE A FRIEND
Our beautiful October was marred by one day of black tragedythe day Paddy died。 For Paddy； after seven years of as happy a life as ever a cat lived； died suddenlyof poison； as was supposed。 Where he had wandered in the darkness to meet his doom we did not know； but in the frosty dawnlight he dragged himself home to die。 We found him lying on the doorstep when we got up； and it did not need Aunt Janet's curt announcement； or Uncle Blair's reluctant shake of the head； to tell us that there was no chance of our pet recovering this time。 We felt that nothing could be done。 Lard and sulphur on his paws would be of no use； nor would any visit to Peg Bowen avail。 We stood around in mournful silence； the Story Girl sat down on the step and took poor Paddy upon her lap。
〃I s'pose there's no use even in praying now；〃 said Cecily desperately。
〃It wouldn't do any harm to try；〃 sobbed Felicity。
〃You needn't waste your prayers；〃 said Dan mournfully； 〃Pat is beyond human aid。 You can tell that by his eyes。 Besides； I don't believe it was the praying cured him last time。〃
〃No； it was Peg Bowen；〃 declared Peter； 〃but she couldn't have bewitched him this time for she's been away for months； nobody knows where。〃
〃If he could only TELL us where he feels the worst！〃 said Cecily piteously。 〃It's so dreadful to see him suffering and not be able to do a single thing to help him！〃
〃I don't think he's suffering much now；〃 I said comfortingly。
The Story Girl said nothing。 She passed and repassed her long brown hand gently over her pet's glossy fur。 Pat lifted his head and essayed to creep a little nearer to his beloved mistress。 The Story Girl drew his limp body close in her arms。 There was a plaintive little mewa long quiverand Paddy's friendly soul had fared forth to wherever it is that good cats go。