REALITY
X
But, while there was no hurry, no passing, and, most certainly of all,no passing away, there was a sense of enormous interval. There wereepochs, there were interludes, there was--duration.
Though everything had only just begun, it was yet complete, if notcompleted.
At any point of an adventure that adventure could be taken over fromthe very start, the experience holding all the thrill and wonder of thefirst time.
Cake could be had and eaten too. Tim, half-way down a rabbit-hole,could instantly find himself at the opening again, bursting with allthe original excitement of trembling calculations. With the others itwas similar.
There was no end to anything. Yet--there was this general consciousnessof gigantic interval. It turned in a circle round them--everywhere....
They came together, then, all eight of them, into that place ofsingular enchantment known as the End of the World, sitting in a groupabout the prostrate elm that on ordinary days was Home. What they hadbeen doing each one knew assuredly, even if no one mentioned it. Tim,who had been to India with Come-Back Stumper, had a feeling in hisheart that expressed itself in one word, "everywhere," accompanied by asigh of happy satisfaction; Judy felt what she knew as "Neverness"; shehad seen the Metropolis inside out, with Uncle Felix apparently. Andthese two couples now sat side by side upon the tree, gazingcontentedly at the colony of wallflowers that flamed in the sunshinejust above their heads. WEEDEN, cleaning his spade with a great nailedboot, turned his good eye affectionately upon the sack that lay besidehim, full now to bursting. Aunt Emily breathed on her gold-rimmedglasses, rubbed them, and put them on her elastic nose, then lookedabout her peacefully yet expectantly, ready, it seemed, to start againat any moment--anywhere. She guarded carefully a mossy bundle in herblack silk lap. A little distance from her Thompson was fastening aflower into Mrs. Horton's dress, and close to the gate stood thePoliceman, smoking a pipe and watching everybody with obviouscontentment. His belt was loose; both hands stuck into it; he leanedagainst the wooden fence.
On the ground, between the tree and the fence, the Tramp had made afire. He lay crouched about it. He and the fire belonged to oneanother. It seemed that he was dozing.
And this sense of lying in the heart of an enormous circular intervaltouched everybody with delicious peace; each had apparently foundsomething real, and was content merely to lie and--be with it. All camegradually to sitting or reclining postures. Yet there was no sense offatigue; any instant they would be up again and looking.
Occasionally one or other of them spoke, but it was not the kind ofspeech that struggled to express difficult ideas with tedious sentencesof many words. There was very little to _say_: mere statements ofindubitable reality could be so easily and briefly made.
"Now," said Tim, unafraid of contradiction.
"Then," said Judy, equally certain of herself.
"Now then," declared Uncle Felix, positive at last of something.
"Naturally," affirmed Aunt Emily.
"Of course," growled Come-Back Stumper. And while WEEDEN, lookingcontentedly at his bursting sack, put in "Always," the Policeman,without referring to his notebook, added from the fence, "That'sright." The remarks of Thompson and Mrs. Horton were not audible, forthey were talking to one another some little distance away beside theRubbish Heap, but their conversation seemed equally condensed andeloquent, judging by the satisfied expression on their faces. Thompsonprobably said, "Well," the cook adding, "I never!"
The Tramp, stretched out beside his little fire of burning sticks,however, said more than any of them. He also said it shortly--asshortly as the children. There was never any question who was Leader.
"Yes," he mentioned in a whisper that flowed about them with a soundlike singing wind.
It summed up everything in a single word. It made them warm, as thougha little flame had touched them. All the languages of the world, usingall their sentences at once, could have said no more than thatconsummate syllable--in the way _he_ said it: _"Yes!"_ It was the wordthe whole Day uttered.
For this was perfectly plain: Each of the group, having followed his orher particular sign to the end of the world, now knew exactly where thehider lay. The supreme discovery was within reach at last. They weremerely waiting, waiting in order to enjoy the revelation all the more,and--waiting in an ecstasy of joy and wonder. Seven or eight of themwere gathered together; the hiding-place was found. It was now, andthen, and natural, and always, and right: it was Yes, and life had justbegun....
There happened, then, a vivid and amazing thing--all rose as one beingand stood up. The Tramp alone remained lying beside his little fire.But the others stood--and listened.
The precise nature of what had happened none of them, perhaps, couldexplain. It was too marvellous; it was possibly the thing that nobodyunderstands, and possibly the thing they didn't know they knew; yet_they_ both knew and understood it. To each, apparently, thehiding-place was simultaneously revealed. Their Signs summoned them.The hider called!
Yet all they heard was the singing of a little bird. Invisiblesomewhere above them in the sea of blazing sunshine, it poured itsheart out rapturously with a joy and a passion of life that seemedutterly careless as to whether it was heard or not. It merely sangbecause it was--alive.
To Judy, at any rate, this seemed what they heard. To the others itcame, apparently--otherwise. Their interpretations, at any rate, werevarious.
Thompson and Mrs. Horton were the first to act. The latter looked abouther, sniffing the air. "It's burning," she said. "Mary don't knowenough. That's my job, anyhow!" and moved off in the direction of thehouse with an energy that had nothing of displeasure nor of temper init. It was apparently crackling that she heard. Thompson went afterher, a willing alacrity in his movements that yet showed no sign ofundignified hurry. "I'll be at the door in no time," he was heard tosay, "before it's stopped ringing, I should not wonder!" There was asolemn joy in him, he spoke as though he heard a bell. WEEDEN turnedvery quietly and watched their disappearing figures. He shouldered hisheavy sack of truffles and his spade. No one asked him anything aloud,but, in answer to several questioning faces, he mumbled cautiously,though in a satisfied and pleasant voice, "My garden wants me--maybe;I'll have a look"--obviously going off to water the apricots and rosetrees. He heard the dry leaves rustling possibly.
"Keep to the gravel paths," began Aunt Emily, adjusting her goldglasses; "they're dry"--then changed her sentence, smiling to herself:"They're so beautifully made, I mean." And gathering up her bundle ofliving ferns, she walked briskly over the broken ground, then straightacross the lawn, waving her trowel at them as she vanished in the shadebelow the lime trees. The shade, however, seemed deeper than before. Itconcealed her quickly.
"I'll be moving on now," came the deep voice of the Policeman. Heopened the gate in the fence and consulted a notebook as he did so. Hepassed slowly out of sight, closing the gate behind him carefully. Hisheavy tramp became audible on the road outside, the road leading to theMetropolis. "There's some one asking the way--" his voice was audible amoment, before it died into the distance. The road, the gateway, thefence were not so clear as hitherto--a trifle dim.
These various movements took place so quickly, it seemed they all tookplace at once; Judy still heard the bird, however. She heard nothingelse. It was singing everywhere, the sky full of its tender anddelicious song. But the notes were a little--just a little--furtheraway she thought, nor could she see it anywhere.
And it was then that Come-Back Stumper, limping a trifle as usual,approached them. He looked troubled rather, and though his manner wasfull of confidence still, his mind had mild confusion in it somewhere.He joined Uncle Felix and the children, standing in front of them.
"Listen!" he said in low, gruff voice. He held out an open palm, threesnail-shells in it, signifying that they should take one each."Listen!" he repeated, and put the smallest shell against his own ear."D'you hear that curious sound?" His head was cocked sideways, one earpre
ssed tight against the shell, the other open to the sky. "TheGanges..." he mumbled to himself after an interval, "but the stones aremoving--moving in the river bed.... That long, withdrawing roar!" Hewas just about to add "down the naked shingles of the world," whenUncle Felix interrupted him.
"Grating," he said, listening intently to his shell; "a metallic,grating sound. What is it?" There was apprehension in his tone, a touchof sadness. "It's getting louder too!"
"Footsteps," exclaimed Tim. "Two feet, not four. It's _not_ a badger ora rabbit." He went on with sudden conviction--"and it's coming nearer."There was disappointment and alarm in him. "Though it might be abadger, p'r'aps," he added hopefully.
"But I hear singing," cried Judy breathlessly, "nothing but singing.It's a bird." Her face was radiant. "It _is_ a long way off, though,"she mentioned.
They put their shells down then, and listened without them. Theyglanced from one another to the sky, all four heads cocked sideways.And they heard the sound distinctly, somewhere in the air about them.It had changed a little. It was louder. It _was_ coming nearer.
"Metallic," repeated Uncle Felix, with an ominous inflection.
"Machinery," growled Stumper, a fury rising in his throat.
"Clicking," agreed Tim. He looked uneasy.
"I only hear a bird," Judy whispered. "But it comes and goes--rather."And then the Tramp, still lying beside his little fire of burningsticks, put in a word.
"It's _we_ who are going," he said in his singing voice. "We're movingon again."
They heard him well enough, but they did not understand quite what hemeant, and his voice died into the distance oddly, far away already,almost on the other side of the fence. And as he spoke they noticedanother change in the world about them. Three of the party noticedit--the males, Uncle Felix, Tim, and Come-Back Stumper.
For the light was fading; it was getting darker; there was a slightsense of chill, a growing dimness in the air. They realised vaguelythat the Tramp was leaving them, and that with him went the light, theheat, the brilliance out of their happy day.
They turned with one accord towards him. He still lay there beside hislittle fire, but he seemed further off; both his figure and the burningsticks looked like a picture seen at the end of a corridor, aninterminable corridor, edged and framed by gathering shadows that wereabout to cover it. They stretched their hands out; they called to him;they moved their feet; for the first time this wonderful day, there washurry in them. But the receding figure of the Tramp withdrew stillfurther and further, until an inaccessible distance intervened. Theyheard him singing faintly "There is no hurry, Life has just begun...Theworld is young with laughter...We can fly..." but the words camesighing towards them from the inaccessible region where he lay,thousands of years ago, millions of miles away, millions of miles....
"You won't forget," were the last words they caught. "You know now.You'll never forget...!"
When a sudden cry of joy and laughter sounded close behind them, andthey turned to see Judy standing on tiptoe, stretching her thin, slimbody as if trying to reach the moon. The light was dim; it seemed thesun had set and moonlight lay upon the world; but her figure, brightand shining, stood in a patch of radiant brilliance by herself. Shelooked like a white flame of fire ascending.
"I've got it!" she was crying rapturously, "I've got it!" Her voice waswild with happiness, almost like the singing of a bird.
The others stared--then came up close. But, while Tim ran, Stumper andUncle Felix moved more slowly. For something in them hesitated; theirattitudes betrayed them; there was a certain confusion in the minds ofthe older two, a touch of doubt. The contrast between the surroundingtwilight and the brilliant patch of glory in which Judy stoodbewildered them. The long, slim body of the child, every line of herfigure, from her toes to the crown of her flying hair, pointing upwardsin a stream of shining aspiration, was irresistible, however. Shelooked like a lily growing, nay rushing, upwards to the sun.
They followed the direction of her outstretched arms and hands. But itwas Tim who spoke first. He did not doubt as they did:
"Oh, Judy, where?" he cried out passionately. "Show me! Show me!"
The child raised herself even higher, stretching her toes and arms andhands; her fingers lengthened; she panted; she made a tremendous effort.
"There!" she said, without looking down. Her face was towards the sky,her throat stretched till the muscles showed and her hair fellbackwards in a stream.
Then, following the direction of her eyes and pointing fingers, theothers saw for the first time what Judy saw--a small wild rose hungshining in the air, dangling at the end of a little bending branch. Thebush grew out of the rubbish-heap, clambering up the wall. No one hadnoticed it before. At the end of the branch hung this single shiningblossom, swinging a little in the wind. But it was out of reach--just ashade too high for her eager fingers to take hold of it. Beyond it grewthe colony of wall-flowers, also in the curious light that seemed thelast glory of the fading day. But it was the rose that Judy wanted. Andfrom somewhere near it came the sweet singing of the unseen bird.
"Too high," whispered Uncle Felix, watching in amazement. "You can'tmanage it. You'll crick your back! oh--oh!" The sight of that blossomdrew his heart out.
"Impossible," growled Stumper, yet wondering why he said it. "It's outof reach."
"Go it!" cried Tim. "You'll have it in a second. Half an inch more!There--you touched it that time!"
For an interval no one could measure they watched her spellbound; ineach of them stirred the similar instinct--that they could reach it,but that she could not. A deep, secret desire hid in all of them topick that gleaming wild rose that swung above them in the air. And,meanwhile, the darkness deepened perceptibly, only Judy and the blossomframed still in shining light.
Then, suddenly, the child's voice broke forth again like a burst ofmusic.
"I've got it! I've got it!"
There was a breathless pause. Her finger did not stretch a fraction ofan inch--but the rose was nearer. For the bird that still sanginvisibly had fluttered into view and perched itself deliberately uponthe prickly branch. It lowered the rose towards the human hands. Ithopped upon the twig. Its weight dropped the prize--almost into Judy'sfingers. She touched it.
"I've found him!" gasped the child.
She touched it--and sank with the final effort in a heap upon theground. The bird fluttered an instant, and was gone into the darkness.The twig, released, flew back. But at the end of it, swinging out ofreach, still hung the lovely blossom in mid-air--unpicked.
There was confusion then about the four of them, for the light fadedvery quickly and darkness blotted out the world; the rose was no longervisible, the bush, the wall, the rubbish-heap, all were shrouded. Thesinging-bird had gone, the Tramp beside his little fire was hidden,they could hardly see one another's faces even. Voices rose on everyside. "She missed it!" "It was too lovely to be picked!" "It's stillthere, growing....I can smell it!"
Yet above them all was heard Judy's voice that sang, rose out of thedarkness like a bird that sings at midnight: "I touched it! My airysigns came true! I know the hiding-place! I've--found him!"
The voice had something in it of the Tramp's careless, windy singing aswell.
"Look! He's touched me...! Look...!"
For in that instant when the rose swung out of reach again, in thatinstant when she touched it, and before the fading light hideverything--all saw the petal floating down to earth. It settledslowly, with a zigzag, butterfly course, fluttering close in front oftheir enchanted eyes. And it was this petal, perhaps, that brought thedarkness, for, as it sank, it grew vast and spread until it covered theentire sky. Like a fairy silken sheet of softest coloured velvet it layon everything, as though the heavens lowered and folded over them. Theyfelt it press softly on their faces. A curtain, it seemed--some one hadlet the curtain down.
Beneath it, then, the confusion became extraordinary. There was tumultof various kinds. Every one cried at once "I've found him! Now _I_kn
ow!" At the touch of the petal, grown so vast, upon their eyelids,each knew his "sign" had led him to the supreme discovery. This flowerwas born of the travail of a universe. Child of the elements, or atleast blessed by them, this petal of a small wild-rose made all thingsclear, for upon its velvet skin still lay the morning dew, air kissedit, its root and origin was earth, and the fire of the sun blazed inits perfect colouring.... Yet in the tumult and confusion such curiousbehaviour followed. For Come-Back Stumper, crying that he saw a purplebeetle pass across the world, proceeded to curl up as though he crawledinto a spiral snail-shell and meant to go to sleep in it; Tim shoutedin the darkness that he was riding a huge badger down a hole that ledto the centre of the earth; and Uncle Felix begged every one to lookand see what he saw, darkness or no darkness--"the splash of misty blueupon the body of a dragon-fly!"
They might almost have been telling their dreams at breakfast-time....
But while the clamour of their excited voices stirred the world beneaththe marvellous covering, there rose that other sound--increasing untilit overpowered every word they uttered. In the world outside there wasa clicking, grating, hard, metallic sound--as though machinery wasstarting somewhere....
And Judy, managing somehow or other to lift a corner and peer out, sawthat the dawn was breaking in the eastern sky, and that a new day wasjust beginning. The sun was rising.... She went back again to tell theothers, but she could not find them. She did not try very hard; she didnot look for them. She just closed her eyes.... The swallows werechattering in the eaves, a robin sang a few marvellous bars, thenceased, and an up-and-under bird sent forth its wild, high bugle-call,then dived out of sight below the surface of the pond.
Judy did likewise--dived down and under, drawing the soft coveringagainst her cheek, and although her eyes were already closed she closedthem somehow a second time. "Everything's all right," she had abutterfly sort of thought; "there's no hurry. It's not time...yet...!"--and the petal covered her again from head to foot. She hadnoticed, a little further off, a globular, round object lyingmotionless beneath another corner of the covering. It gave her afeeling of comfort and security. She slid away to find the others. Itseemed she floated, rather. "Everything's free and careless...and soare--so am I...for we shall never...never forget...!" she rememberedsweetly--and was gone, fluttering after the up-and-under bird ...intosome hidden world she had discovered....
The old Mill House lay dreaming in the dawn. Transparent shades of pinkand gold stole slowly up the eastern sky. A stream of amber diffuseditself below the paling stars. Rising from a furnace below the horizonit reached across and touched the zenith, painting mid-heaven with amystery none could understand; then sank downwards and dipped thecrests of the trees, the lawn, the moss-grown tiles upon the roof inthat sea of everlasting wonder which is light.
Dawn caught the old sleeping world once more in its breathless beauty.The earth turned over in her sleep, gasped with delight--and woke.There was a murmur and a movement everywhere. The spacious, statelylife that breathes o'er ancient trees came forth from the wood withouta centre; from the lines emanated that gracious, almost tender forcethey harvest in the spring. There was a little shiver of joy among therose trees. The daisies blinked and stared. And the earth broke intosinging.
Then, in this chorus, came a pause; the thousand voices hushed amoment; the robin ceased its passionate solo in the shrubbery. Alllistened--listened to another and far sweeter song that stirred withthe morning wind among the rose trees. It was very soft and tender, itdied away and returned with a faint, mysterious murmur, it rose andfell so gently that it may have been only the rustling of theirthousand leaves that guard the opening blossoms.
Yet it ran with power across the entire waking earth:
My secret's in the wind and open sky, There is no longer any Time--to lose; The world is young with laughter; we can fly Among the imprisoned hours as we choose. The rushing minutes pause; an unused day Breaks into dawn and cheats the tired sun. The birds are singing: Hark! Come out and play! There is no hurry; life has just begun.
And as it died away the sun itself came up and shouted it aloud as witha million golden trumpets.