Chapter Six
"Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty."
I murmured fragments of poetry to content myself as I wandered through the woods. I was hungry and weary and had spent the last two days living on nuts and wild berries. I vaguely remembered passing over a stream or two, but my thoughts were of a dreamy fashion, following one another softly and smoothly without any real intermission. They were what kept me going. If I refused to let my mind worry about what may lie ahead of me, I figured I was better off. Besides, the woods at afternoon hour with the sunrays dented and broken through the boughs and greenery spreading over everything like a soft blanket left no room in my head for seriousness.
"Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw, I, never felt, a calm so deep!"
Perhaps the hunger had gone to my head. I tied a belt of Queen Anne's Lace about my waist and in doing so looked over my appearance. My pale yellow frock, the one Erin had picked out for me three days ago now, was now so soiled and ripped I looked like a walking rag bag with a flower band to tie myself together. I had long discarded my shoes, tying the laces together and hanging them around my neck, so that I could walk barefoot and free my sore feet.
"I must look a sight," I said aloud to myself, kneeling down to look at my reflection in a stream. The same, pale face gazed back at me with the large dark eyes and the red-lipped smile and the mass of black hair hanging down by my waist. For a moment I hated the way I looked. It was for this reason I was wandering these woods in the first place. Perhaps if I were ugly, my stepmother wouldn't hate me so much.
*******************
That night I had a dream. I saw John and he was standing in the main hall of our castle with a small, gold box in his hand. He looked extremely nervous and pale-faced. I tried to move towards him and comfort him, but my feet wouldn't allow me to. Suddenly my stepmother appeared through a side door.
"You have it?" she asked. John nodded slowly and placed the box in her hands. She opened it, peered inside and quickly closed it again.
"This is her heart?" my stepmother looked up at John. John still said nothing and nodded again.
"Excellent. You have done well. Speak of this to no one and you will be rewarded splendidly."
John bowed slightly and turned, walking swiftly and silently out of the hall. The scene faded as I watched my stepmother standing holding the box, wearing a strangely wild smile on her face.
I awoke, drenched in a cold sweat. What did that mean? What was John doing? What was my stepmother doing and why did she ask for someone's heart? The morning light nearly blinded me as I stretched and stood, preparing for another day's walk. Then a thought came to me. What if that was supposed to be my heart? But then, if it was, why would John do such a thing? Especially if I wasn't even dead.
The dream haunted me as I made my journey that day. It made me frightened again. I remembered all the things I'd seen when I followed my stepmother into her hidden room, perhaps she was a witch. An evil witch, one with magic spells and secret plans and a magic mirror. I shook myself from the idea.
"No, no!" I scolded myself, bitterly shaking my head, "Witches don't exist! Magic doesn't exist!"
I walked blindly through a thicket and then fell upon the strangest sight I had ever seen.
It was a little cottage. Quite a quaint little cottage at that, with red tiling on the roof and tiny windows. A bridge crossed over a stream following a little path up to the stone step below the front door. I stood there, dumbfounded at my discovery and finally recovering, I cautiously made my way towards the house.
It appeared to be abandoned, as I sincerely hoped. Nevertheless, I knocked a few times on the door, just to be sure. No one answered, so I crept in, closing the door behind me.
It certainly seemed abandoned, I concluded as I stared around the main room covered in cobwebs and dust. There was a long table with seven chairs around it in the center of the room. In one corner, facing the front window, was a small kitchen with a water pump and a sink and a cast iron stove. In the other corner were rows of shelves with books and other trinkets lined up on them. Delighted, I walked over to that corner and pulled out one of the dusty novels.
"The History of Dwarves," I read aloud the title on the front cover. Raising my eyebrows in confusion, I opened to a page in the book. A cloud of dust rose from it and I began to cough, so much so that I had to close the book and put it back on the shelf. I simply looked at the titles on the binding of each book after that. The only book that I was familiar with was a book of poems by Tennyson. All the others were strange titles, like "The Rise and Fall of Magic in the Dark Ages" and "101 Ways to Cook Witches Cabbage." The titles were so random and strange, I decided to move to look through the rest of the house.
The rest of the main room didn't have much. There were a few cabinets filled with dust-covered dishes and glasses and drawers filled with silverware. There were scattered bits of clothing about the floor and draped on chairs. I picked one up off the floor delicately with two fingers. It was a tiny wool nightcap. Confused more than ever now, I decided to explore the upstairs.
The stairs were old, wooden and squeaky. Every step I took, I feared the stair would cave in. At the landing, I turned to the left and pushed open a door to find a bedroom. The room was dark because the windows were covered with dirty calico curtains. I pushed open the curtains and let in some of the morning sun. Looking around the room, I saw seven little beds pushed against the two opposite walls.
They were all unmade, covers pulled back to the foot post and pillows all disarray. There were two large messy bureaus against the wall on either side of the door. Clothes were hanging out of them. I found stray socks under the beds, little decks of cards with strange emblems on them and a few notebooks filled with symbols I didn't understand.
Despite its strange appearance, I came to like the little house right away. About ten minutes later, I had run back down the squeaky stairs and had decided to really make this abandoned house my own. I found a broom in a dark corner under the stairs and swept out the cobwebs in the four corners of the main room and in the crevices in the ceiling. Using my shawl, which was now useless to keep anything warm, I wiped down the table and chairs and the wooden counter around the sink. I tried the water pump, pleased to see that fresh water came out of it and began scrubbing dishes. I then proceeded to organize the shelves to suit my own pleasure and carefully dusted all the books, placing them just as carefully back on the shelf. They seemed a bit brighter now that they were free of dust and grime. I pulled open the door to let the sunshine in and unlocked all the windows, washing them inside and out. I worked the day away without realizing it and by the time the sun sank below the horizon, I was sitting breathlessly, but happy at the long table in the middle of a very clean house. And it was mine. All mine. I now had a place to live, even if it was by myself.
I walked up the stairs to the freshly aired bedroom with all the beds made and pushed together to make a huge bed for myself. I collapsed into the pillows, kicking off my shoes, thinking myself very lucky to have found such an abandoned house.
Little I knew how I wrong I was.
"Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty."
I murmured fragments of poetry to content myself as I wandered through the woods. I was hungry and weary and had spent the last two days living on nuts and wild berries. I vaguely remembered passing over a stream or two, but my thoughts were of a dreamy fashion, following one another softly and smoothly without any real intermission. They were what kept me going. If I refused to let my mind worry about what may lie ahead of me, I figured I was better off. Besides, the woods at afternoon hour with the sunrays dented and broken through the boughs and greenery spreading over everything like a soft blanket left no room in my head for seriousness.
"Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw, I, never felt, a calm so deep!"
Perhaps the hunger had gone to my head. I tied a belt of Queen Anne's Lace about my waist and in doing so looked over my appearance. My pale yellow frock, the one Erin had picked out for me three days ago now, was now so soiled and ripped I looked like a walking rag bag with a flower band to tie myself together. I had long discarded my shoes, tying the laces together and hanging them around my neck, so that I could walk barefoot and free my sore feet.
"I must look a sight," I said aloud to myself, kneeling down to look at my reflection in a stream. The same, pale face gazed back at me with the large dark eyes and the red-lipped smile and the mass of black hair hanging down by my waist. For a moment I hated the way I looked. It was for this reason I was wandering these woods in the first place. Perhaps if I were ugly, my stepmother wouldn't hate me so much.
*******************
That night I had a dream. I saw John and he was standing in the main hall of our castle with a small, gold box in his hand. He looked extremely nervous and pale-faced. I tried to move towards him and comfort him, but my feet wouldn't allow me to. Suddenly my stepmother appeared through a side door.
"You have it?" she asked. John nodded slowly and placed the box in her hands. She opened it, peered inside and quickly closed it again.
"This is her heart?" my stepmother looked up at John. John still said nothing and nodded again.
"Excellent. You have done well. Speak of this to no one and you will be rewarded splendidly."
John bowed slightly and turned, walking swiftly and silently out of the hall. The scene faded as I watched my stepmother standing holding the box, wearing a strangely wild smile on her face.
I awoke, drenched in a cold sweat. What did that mean? What was John doing? What was my stepmother doing and why did she ask for someone's heart? The morning light nearly blinded me as I stretched and stood, preparing for another day's walk. Then a thought came to me. What if that was supposed to be my heart? But then, if it was, why would John do such a thing? Especially if I wasn't even dead.
The dream haunted me as I made my journey that day. It made me frightened again. I remembered all the things I'd seen when I followed my stepmother into her hidden room, perhaps she was a witch. An evil witch, one with magic spells and secret plans and a magic mirror. I shook myself from the idea.
"No, no!" I scolded myself, bitterly shaking my head, "Witches don't exist! Magic doesn't exist!"
I walked blindly through a thicket and then fell upon the strangest sight I had ever seen.
It was a little cottage. Quite a quaint little cottage at that, with red tiling on the roof and tiny windows. A bridge crossed over a stream following a little path up to the stone step below the front door. I stood there, dumbfounded at my discovery and finally recovering, I cautiously made my way towards the house.
It appeared to be abandoned, as I sincerely hoped. Nevertheless, I knocked a few times on the door, just to be sure. No one answered, so I crept in, closing the door behind me.
It certainly seemed abandoned, I concluded as I stared around the main room covered in cobwebs and dust. There was a long table with seven chairs around it in the center of the room. In one corner, facing the front window, was a small kitchen with a water pump and a sink and a cast iron stove. In the other corner were rows of shelves with books and other trinkets lined up on them. Delighted, I walked over to that corner and pulled out one of the dusty novels.
"The History of Dwarves," I read aloud the title on the front cover. Raising my eyebrows in confusion, I opened to a page in the book. A cloud of dust rose from it and I began to cough, so much so that I had to close the book and put it back on the shelf. I simply looked at the titles on the binding of each book after that. The only book that I was familiar with was a book of poems by Tennyson. All the others were strange titles, like "The Rise and Fall of Magic in the Dark Ages" and "101 Ways to Cook Witches Cabbage." The titles were so random and strange, I decided to move to look through the rest of the house.
The rest of the main room didn't have much. There were a few cabinets filled with dust-covered dishes and glasses and drawers filled with silverware. There were scattered bits of clothing about the floor and draped on chairs. I picked one up off the floor delicately with two fingers. It was a tiny wool nightcap. Confused more than ever now, I decided to explore the upstairs.
The stairs were old, wooden and squeaky. Every step I took, I feared the stair would cave in. At the landing, I turned to the left and pushed open a door to find a bedroom. The room was dark because the windows were covered with dirty calico curtains. I pushed open the curtains and let in some of the morning sun. Looking around the room, I saw seven little beds pushed against the two opposite walls.
They were all unmade, covers pulled back to the foot post and pillows all disarray. There were two large messy bureaus against the wall on either side of the door. Clothes were hanging out of them. I found stray socks under the beds, little decks of cards with strange emblems on them and a few notebooks filled with symbols I didn't understand.
Despite its strange appearance, I came to like the little house right away. About ten minutes later, I had run back down the squeaky stairs and had decided to really make this abandoned house my own. I found a broom in a dark corner under the stairs and swept out the cobwebs in the four corners of the main room and in the crevices in the ceiling. Using my shawl, which was now useless to keep anything warm, I wiped down the table and chairs and the wooden counter around the sink. I tried the water pump, pleased to see that fresh water came out of it and began scrubbing dishes. I then proceeded to organize the shelves to suit my own pleasure and carefully dusted all the books, placing them just as carefully back on the shelf. They seemed a bit brighter now that they were free of dust and grime. I pulled open the door to let the sunshine in and unlocked all the windows, washing them inside and out. I worked the day away without realizing it and by the time the sun sank below the horizon, I was sitting breathlessly, but happy at the long table in the middle of a very clean house. And it was mine. All mine. I now had a place to live, even if it was by myself.
I walked up the stairs to the freshly aired bedroom with all the beds made and pushed together to make a huge bed for myself. I collapsed into the pillows, kicking off my shoes, thinking myself very lucky to have found such an abandoned house.
Little I knew how I wrong I was.