A Little Boy Lost Page 18

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST

  When Martin first came to the hills it was at the end of the long,hot, dry summer of that distant land: it was autumn now, and theautumn was like a second summer, only not so hot and dry as the first.But sometimes at this season a wet mist came up from the sea bynight and spread over all the country, covering it like a cloud; toa soaring bird looking down from the sky it must have appeared likeanother sea of a pale or pearly grey colour, with the hills risinglike islands from it. When the sun rose in the morning, if the skywas clear so that it could shine, then the sea-fog would drift andbreak up and melt away or float up in the form of thin white clouds.Now, whenever this sea-mist was out over the world the Lady of theHills, without coming out of her chamber, knew of it, and she wouldprevent Martin from leaving the bed and going out. He loved to beout on the hill-side, to watch the sun come up, and she would say tohim, "You cannot see the sun because of the mist; and it is cold andwet on the hill; wait until the mist has gone and then you shall goout."

  But now a new idea came into her mind. She had succeeded in makinghim happy during the last few days; but she wished to do more--shewished to make him fear and hate the sea so that he would never growdiscontented with his life on the hills nor wish to leave her. So now,one morning, when the mist was out over the land, she said to Martinwhen he woke, "Get up and go out on to the hill and see the mist;and when you feel its coldness and taste its salt on your lips, andsee how it dims and saddens the earth, you will know better than towish for that great water it comes from."

  So Martin got up and went out on the hill, and it was as she had said:there was no blue sky above, no wide green earth before him: themist had blotted all out; he could hardly see the rocks and bushes adozen yards from him; the leaves and flowers were heavy laden withthe grey wet; and it felt clammy and cold on his face, and he tastedits salt on his lips. It seemed thickest and darkest when he lookeddown and lightest when he looked up, and the lightness led him toclimb up among the dripping, slippery rocks; and slipping andstumbling he went on and on, the light increasing as he went, untilat last to his delight he got above the mist. There was an immensecrag there which stood boldly up on the hillside, and on to this hemanaged to climb, and standing on it he looked down upon that vastmoving sea of grey mist that covered the earth, and saw the sun, alarge crimson disc, rising from it.

  It was a great thing to see, and made him cry out aloud for joy: andthen as the sun rose higher into the pure, blue sky the grey mistchanged to silvery white, and the white changed in places to shininggold: and it drifted faster and faster away before the sun, andbegan to break up, and when a cloud of mist swept by the rock onwhich he stood it beat like a fine rain upon his face, and coveredhis bright clothes with a grey beady moisture.

  Now, looking abroad over the earth, it appeared to Martin that thethousands and tens and hundreds of thousands of fragments of mist,had the shapes of men, and were like an innumerable multitude ofgigantic men with shining white faces and shining golden hair andlong cloud-like robes of a pearly grey colour, that trailed on theearth as they moved. They were like a vast army covering the wholeearth, all with their faces set towards the west, all moving swiftlyand smoothly on towards the west. And he saw that every one held hisrobes to his breast with his left hand, and that in his right hand,raised to the level of his head, he carried a strange object. Thisobject was a shell--a big sea-shell of a golden yellow colour withcurved pink lips; and very soon one of the mist people came near him,and as he passed by the rock he held the shell to Martin's ear, andit sounded in his ear--a low, deep murmur as of waves breaking on along shingled beach, and Martin knew, though no word was spoken tohim, that it was the sound of the sea, and tears of delight came tohis eyes, and at the same time his heart was sick and sad withlonging for the sea.

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  Again and again, until the whole vast multitude of the mist peoplehad gone by, a shell was held to his ear; and when they were all gone,when he had watched them fade like a white cloud over the plain, andfloat away and disappear in the blue sky, he sat down on the rockand cried with the desire that was in him.

  When his mother found him with traces of tears on his cheeks; and hewas silent when she spoke to him, and had a strange look in his eyesas if they were gazing at some distant object, she was angrier thanever with the sea, for she knew that the thought of it had returnedto him and that it would be harder than ever to keep him.

  One morning on waking he found her still asleep, although the tracesof tears on her cheeks showed that she had been awake and cryingduring the night.

  "Ah, now I know why she cries every morning," thought Martin;"it is because I must go away and leave her here alone on the hills."

  He was out of her arms and dressed in a very few moments, movingvery softly lest she should wake; but though he knew that if sheawoke she would not let him go, he could not leave her withoutsaying goodbye. And so coming near he stooped over her and verygently kissed her soft cheek and sweet mouth and murmured, "Good-bye,sweet mother." Then, very cautiously, like a shy, little wild animalhe stole out of the cavern. Once outside, in the early morning light,he started running as fast as he could, jumping from stone to stonein the rough places, and scrambling through the dew-laden bushes andcreepers, until, hot and panting, he arrived down at the very footof the hill.

  Then it was easier walking, and he went on a little until he heard avoice crying, "Martin! Martin!" and, looking back, he saw the Ladyof the Hills standing on a great stone near the foot of the mountain,gazing sadly after him. "Martin, oh, my child, come back to me," shecalled, stretching out her arms towards him. "Oh, Martin, I cannotleave the hills to follow you and shield you from harm and save youfrom death, Where will you go? Oh me, what shall I do without you?"

  For a little while he stood still, listening with tears in his eyesto her words, and wavering in his mind; but very soon he thought ofthe great blue water once more and could not go back, but began torun again, and went on and on for a long distance before stopping torest. Then he looked back, but he could no longer see her formstanding there on the stone.

  All that day he journeyed on towards the ocean over a great plain.There was no trees and no rocks nor hills, only grass on the levelearth, in some places so tall that the spikes, looking like greatwhite ostrich plumes, waved high above his head. But it was easywalking, as the grass grew in tussocks or bunches, and underneaththe ground was bare and smooth so that he could walk easily betweenthe bunches.

  He wondered that he did not get to the sea, but it was still far off,and so the long summer day wore to an end, and he was so tired thathe could scarcely lift his legs to walk. Then, as he went slowly onin the fading light, where the grass was short and the eveningprimroses were opening and filling the desert air with their sweetperfume, he all at once saw a little grey old man not above sixinches in height standing on the ground right before him, andstaring fixedly at him with great, round, yellow eyes.

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  "You bad boy!" exclaimed this curious, little, old man; whereuponMartin stopped in his walk and stood still, gazing in the greatestsurprise at him.

  "You bad boy!" repeated the strange little man.

  The more Martin stared at him the harder he stared back at Martin,always with the same unbending severity in his small, round, greyface. He began to feel a little afraid, and was almost inclined torun away; then he thought it would be funny to run from such a verysmall man as this, so he stared bravely back once more and cried out,"Go away!"

  "You bad boy!" answered the little grey man without moving.

  "Perhaps he's deaf, just like that other old man," said Martin tohimself, and throwing out his arms he shouted at the top of his voice,"Go away!"

  And away with a scream he went, for it was only a little greyburrowing owl after all! Martin laughed a little at his ownfoolishness in mistaking that common bird he was accustomed to seeevery day for a little old man.

  By-and-by, feeling very tired, he sat down t
o rest, and just wherehe sat grew a plant with long white flowers like tall thin gobletsin shape. Sitting on the grass he could see right into one of theflower-tubes, and presently he noticed a little, old, grey,shrivelled woman in it, very, very small, for she was not longerthan the nail of his little finger. She wore a grey shawl thatdragged behind her, and kept getting under her feet and tripping herup. She was most active, whisking about this way and that inside theflower; and at intervals she turned to stare at Martin, who keptgetting nearer and nearer to watch her until his face nearly touchedthe flower; and whenever she looked at him she wore an exceedinglysevere expression on her small dried-up countenance. It seemed toMartin that she was very angry with him for some reason. Then shewould turn her back on him, and tumble about in the tube of theflower, and gathering up the ends of her shawl in her arms begindusting with great energy; then hurrying out once more she wouldshake the dust from her big, funny shawl in his eyes. At last hecarefully raised a hand and was just going to take hold of the queer,little, old dame with his forefinger and thumb when up she flew. Itwas only a small, grey, twilight moth!

  Very much puzzled and confused, and perhaps a little frightened atthese curious deceptions, he laid himself down on the grass and shuthis eyes so as to go to sleep; but no sooner had he shut his eyesthan he heard a soft, soft little voice calling, "Martin! Martin!"

  He started up and listened. It was only a field cricket singing inthe grass. But often as he lay down and closed his eyes the smallvoice called again, plainly as possible, and oh so sadly, "Martin!Martin!"

  It made him remember his beautiful mother, now perhaps crying alonein the cave on the mountain, no little Martin resting on her bosom,and he cried to think of it. And still the small voice went on,calling, "Martin! Martin!" sadder than ever, until, unable to endureit longer, he jumped up and ran away a good distance, and at last,too tired to go any further, he crept into a tussock of tall grassand went to sleep.