The Angel Children<br />or, Stories from Cloud-Land, Charlotte M. Higgins [e books for reading .txt] 📗

she thought she must be mistaken, and that, if she waited a while, she would see that he was about to do something very different. But no; he took first the door well off the hinges, put the hinges in his pocket, the door on his back, and went off. Then Maggie jumped quickly from her bed, and, running to the open doorway, cried out,

"Don't take my door; I live here."

But the man certainly did not hear Maggie; at all events he did not once turn back, but went away quite out of sight.[Pg 69]

"But what could he want with my door?" said Maggie, in a high state of amazement. "Houses all have doors; so he can't want it for his house." She stood a long time, wondering and perplexed; and I must acknowledge, if I had been there, I should have wondered too. It was quite a long time before Maggie could persuade herself to go to bed again, and sleep till morning, which she finally did, feeling very thankful the man didn't take the bed.

In the morning a new joy was in store for her; she found that the sun now, when it rose, could look directly in upon her, and his warm rays would give warmth to her little room. As she looked up to the mantel-shelf, on which her bits of broken china were glowing from the sunshine, she jumped out of bed in an ecstasy of delight.

"O, dear, dear!" she cried, "what if that man had taken away those?—how I should have cried! But now he has, by taking the door, given the sun a chance to make them look more beautiful!"

Now she began to love the sun better than ever, for he had become one of the things which beautified her little home; and she always woke early,[Pg 70] so as to meet his first look, when he came into the room.

Still it must be confessed that the absence of her door did at times make her poor home more desolate; when, for instance, the winds went mad, and the rain came down in torrents from the clouds, O, such a frolicking as there was down her large chimney, and out through the doorway! Then round and round the house they would run, chasing each other,—now bursting into a boisterous mirth, now howling in low, dull tones, until in again at the door they swept, and up through the chimney.

In Maggie's mind, the chimney and open doorway belonged especially to the winds. She always thought of them in connection, and, when they began their frolicking, she would seat herself in one corner, and listen. Sometimes it seemed as though the winds rushed at one another,—one coming down the chimney, and the other in at the door; then, when they met, there was a kind of explosion, a thick, quick quarrel, and then they would draw off in merry laughter; then would Maggie clap her hands with glee, thinking it fine[Pg 71] sport; but when a whole blast burst at once upon the house, and seemed desperately to struggle through every crevice, she would crouch with fear, and upbraid the winds with their sudden freaks.

There was one mystery which Maggie found herself unable to unravel; it was this: She felt perfectly certain the chimney was made for the winds to come down through, and still she knew it was intended for her to make a smoky kind of fire once in a while on its hearth, with which the winds quarrelled, and destroyed it. Here were two things irreconcilable. Often would she stand on the hearth, and look up the black throat of the chimney, wondering how this inconsistency happened, wishing again and again that the winds would like the fire, and let it burn well; but she never thought of asking them to desist. She looked upon their freaks as privileged.

To the dear Dove did Maggie always turn for comfort and relief. Its love was a guarantee of her mother's, and, as often as she looked upon and held it to her heart, so often did she feel sure that[Pg 72] one day she would feel the pressure of her mother's hand upon her head.

Once, when Maggie was talking to the Dove, and thinking of her mother, it came into her head to begin that journey to the Great King's palace. "Why not?" said she; "why do I live here? The cold winter is coming, and my door is gone, and the sun already gives me warning that he shall not look in at the door as usual; the neighbors will be colder than ever, and some of them will quite freeze. I've a mind to go away. What do you think, Dovey?"

The Dove nestled close to her heart, and cooed joyfully.

"Would you like it? Well, I don't know but I had better start. But I should have to leave the house,—and that would be rather bad,—and the chimney where the winds play. I think it would seem lonesome for them, and I don't know as they would like it, for there would be no one to listen to them; still I do want to go, and I think I'd better."

"I'm sure," said Maggie, after some pause, during which she lovingly caressed the Dove's[Pg 73] head, "I'm sure I don't see why I didn't go before. I don't know why I should have lived here so long alone. I can take some of the best china, and leave all the rest. Perhaps some little child may like to live here after I am gone, and watch the winds as I have done; but I do hope they won't frighten her at first, or she will want to go away."

Maggie was an expeditious child, and when she had decided to do something, she went at once about accomplishing it. So she left the door-step on which she had been sitting, and went in the house, to see what she wanted to take; and, as she had so few things, the preparations were not long, but she soon found herself with her blanket pinned over her head, ready to start.

'Tis true a few tears came into her eyes as she bid farewell to the bed which had been her shelter against every unpleasant sight and sound; but when she turned to the chimney, and some perplexing thought of the quarrels of the wind and the fire came over her, she rather rejoiced she would soon be away from it, where this one[Pg 74] mystery of their disagreement should never again trouble her.

Laying the white Dove in her bosom, she turned from the house, and so beheld herself fairly launched on her journey.

A little while she found it pleasant; the road was straight, and lined with flowers; the Dove raised his head, and looked in Maggie's eyes with delight.

But soon she came to a place where two roads met, forming the one she had been travelling. Here was a perplexity: which should she take—which would lead her where she wanted to go?

There was a house close by; so she stepped up to the door of it, and knocked. A lady, who was very pretty to look at, and who wore a very rich dress, opened the door; but just at the moment when Maggie asked, "Will you tell me which road leads to the palace of the Great King?" that same terrible cold wind came round and blew directly into the lady's mouth, so that she replied, "I know nothing about it, and very much doubt if there be any Great King at all;" and then she[Pg 75] shut the door in great haste, leaving poor Maggie in much distress and doubt.

She was astonished at the woman's words, and wondered why she shut the door so soon; for, if she had not, she would have told her about the King; how she was sure he was alive, and had a great palace. And, too, she could have told her, his servant had come once and taken her mother with him, and she could never forget him; he had been dressed in black, but on his head he wore a crown of the most glorious stars, and their brightness had filled the little house with holy light, so that, even after he had departed, it still lingered around.

She thought some of knocking again and telling the poor lady, for she thought it was sad enough not to know about the Great King; but, though she knocked a long time, no one came to the door, and, finally, she was obliged to leave the steps of the house and gather some directions else-where.

One of the roads seemed cold, and looked narrow, and Maggie, who had suffered so much from the cold, turned from it with a shudder towards the[Pg 76] other, which looked much gayer, and many more people walked in it; but the Dove looked anxiously towards the narrow one, which grieved Maggie, and made her cry out, "O, Dovey, Dovey! how can you love the cold so well, or ask me to go where it is? Let us rather walk this way a little, and do you not see there are plenty of cross-roads?—so, if we wish, we can go on to that narrow road at any time."

So, notwithstanding the Dove's remonstrances, Maggie entered this road, and found the air so pleasant and warm, that she liked nothing better than to walk in it.

She saw a great many people here; but they took no notice of the little girl, who walked along so quietly, with her Dove in her bosom, and the bits of china in her pocket. But, if they did not notice her, she noticed them well, and thought them strange enough.

To her surprise she found the air, which had at first seemed so warm, began to grow cold, and more like the air about the old house; and, shivering with cold, and seeing the people about her wearing large cloaks, it was quite natural she[Pg 77] should ask them to let her in beneath the warm folds of them. To her civil request some of them paid no attention; others looked at her in wonder, and some were so rude as to speak cruel words to her, and bid her not dare speak to them again.

So Maggie saw them walk on, wrapped in their warm cloaks, and complained not. Indeed, she had lived too long in the little house without a door, not to be able to bear the cold bravely—only she could not help wishing sometimes that she had the bed with her, that she might jump in between its clothes and warm herself a while; but she was patient, remembering that she was journeying towards the Great King's palace, where her mother lived. Suddenly it occurred to her that the road to the Great King's palace lay through a remarkably cold country, and that the people who were travelling thither seemed in no haste, for they often sat down by the road-side and played; and some even went back, instead of forward, while all those little side-roads, which she thought she had seen before, had vanished. So, one day, she said to one of the people who sat down:[Pg 78]

"Why do you not hasten that you may see the Great King?"

"The Great King, indeed!" he said whom she had addressed. "I am in no hurry to see him."

And others intimated as much as the lady long ago had said, that they themselves doubted very much if there were any Great King at all.

"What shall I do?" cried Maggie. "I cannot be in the right way. O, how shall I get to the Great King's palace!" And, upon this, the Dove rose up from Maggie's bosom, and turned backwards whither they had come. Though long and dreary seemed the cold road she must retrace, yet, such was her confidence in the Dove, she turned very gladly; and though not one of those people had cared for Maggie before, now they clustered around her, begging her not to leave them, and seeking to draw her away from her purpose. And when she saw how they seemed to love her, and feel sorrow at her going, she said to them:

"I am grieved to leave you, since you have just begun to love me; but I promised my mother I[Pg 79] would go to the Great King's palace, and