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The Heather-Moon By: Charles Norris Williamson (1859-1920) |
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By C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON Authors of "The Guests of Hercules," "The Princess Virginia." "The Motor
Maid." etc. A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York
Copyright, 1912, by C. N. & A. M. Williamson All rights reserved, including that of translation into Foreign
Languages, including the Scandinavian.
BOOK I THE PRELUDE: AND THE PEOPLE
I
For the first time in her life, Barrie saw the door that led to the
garret stairs standing ajar. It was always, always locked, as is
correct, though irritating, for a door that leads to Fairyland. In Barrie's Outer Life that her grandmother knew, and Miss Hepburn knew,
and Mrs. Muir the housekeeper knew, there was Heaven be praised! no
romance at all; for romance is an evil thing, still worse, a frivolous
thing, which may be avoided for a well brought up girl though
whopping cough may not; and already this same evil had wrought vast
damage among the MacDonalds of Dhrum. In the Inner Life of Barrie,
however, there was nothing worth thinking about except romance; and the
door of the garret stairs was one of the principal roads to the
forbidden land. She stopped in front of it. At first she could not believe her eyes. Her
heart had given a glorious bound, which, only to have felt once in its
full ecstasy, was worth the bother of being born into a family where
there were no mothers or fathers, but only ah, what an awesome
only! grim old Grandma MacDonald and Grandma MacDonald's grim old house
where Carlisle ends and moorlands begin. It is difficult to be sure of things when your heart is beating nineteen
to the dozen, and the special thing, or mirage of a thing,
seems judging from all else that has happened in Outer Life much too
good to be true. Yet there it was, that streak of dull, mote misted
gold, painting what actually appeared to be a crack between the dark
frame of the door and the dark old door itself just such gold as Barrie
had seen at least once a day ever since she could remember (except when
mumps and measles kept her in bed) by applying an eye to the keyhole.
"Fairy gold" she had named it. The only person who ever went into the garret was Mrs. Muir, and though
she had the air of making no secret of such expeditions, it had always
struck Barrie as deliciously, thrillingly strange that invariably she
turned the key of the stairway door upon herself the instant she was on
the other side, and religiously performed the same ceremony on letting
herself out. "Ceremony" really was the word, because the key was large,
ancient, and important looking, and squeaked sepulchrally while it
turned. Barrie knew all this, because in spring and autumn, when Mrs.
Muir paid her visits to fairylands forlorn beyond the oak door, Barrie
lurked under cover of the convenient, thick, and well placed shadow
behind the grandfather clock on the landing. It was not autumn now, which was part of the mystery, after these
endless years of routine (they seemed endless to Barrie at eighteen),
and she would certainly have missed the event had this not been her
keyhole hour. Somehow she had become aware through heredity and race memory, no
doubt that looking through keyholes was caddish, a trick unworthy of
any lady who was at heart a gentleman. But there are exceptions to all
keyholes, and this was one, because, as none save ghosts and fairies
lived or moved behind it in the garret, there was nobody to spy upon.
You looked through to stimulate the romance in your starved soul and
save it from death by inanition, because if romance died, then indeed
the Outer Life at Hillard House would be no longer bearable. Barrie paid her respects to the keyhole o' mornings, for two reasons.
The first and commonplace reason was because Mrs. Muir was busy
downstairs and had no eye to spare to see whether other eyes were glued
to the wrong places. The second and more charming reason was because in
the morning the golden haze floated behind the keyhole like shimmering
water with the sun shining deep into it... Continue reading book >>
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Genres for this book |
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Fiction |
Literature |
Romance |
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