Lilith, George MacDonald [autobiographies to read .TXT] 📗

forever, and ebb no more. She answered the morning wind with reviving breath, and began to listen. For in the skirts of the wind had come the rain⁠—the soft rain that heals the mown, the many-wounded grass⁠—soothing it with the sweetness of all music, the hush that lives between music and silence. It bedewed the desert places around the cottage, and the sands of Lilith’s heart heard it, and drank it in. When Mara returned to sit by her bed, her tears were flowing softer than the rain, and soon she was fast asleep. XL The House of Death

The Mother of Sorrows rose, muffled her face, and went to call the Little Ones. They slept as if all the night they had not moved, but the moment she spoke they sprang to their feet, fresh as if new-made. Merrily down the stair they followed her, and she brought them where the princess lay, her tears yet flowing as she slept. Their glad faces grew grave. They looked from the princess out on the rain, then back at the princess.

“The sky is falling!” said one.

“The white juice is running out of the princess!” cried another, with an awed look.

“Is it rivers?” asked Odu, gazing at the little streams that flowed adown her hollow cheeks.

“Yes,” answered Mara, “⁠—the most wonderful of all rivers.”

“I thought rivers was bigger, and rushed, like a lot of Little Ones, making loud noises!” he returned, looking at me, from whom alone he had heard of rivers.

“Look at the rivers of the sky!” said Mara. “See how they come down to wake up the waters under the earth! Soon will the rivers be flowing everywhere, merry and loud, like thousands and thousands of happy children. Oh, how glad they will make you, Little Ones! You have never seen any, and do not know how lovely is the water!”

“That will be the glad of the ground that the princess is grown good,” said Odu. “See the glad of the sky!”

“Are the rivers the glad of the princess?” asked Luva. “They are not her juice, for they are not red!”

“They are the juice inside the juice,” answered Mara.

Odu put one finger to his eye, looked at it, and shook his head.

“Princess will not bite now!” said Luva.

“No; she will never do that again,” replied Mara. “⁠—But now we must take her nearer home.”

“Is that a nest?” asked Sozo.

“Yes; a very big nest. But we must take her to another place first.”

“What is that?”

“It is the biggest room in all this world.⁠—But I think it is going to be pulled down: it will soon be too full of little nests.⁠—Go and get your clumsies.”

“Please are there any cats in it?”

“Not one. The nests are too full of lovely dreams for one cat to get in.”

“We shall be ready in a minute,” said Odu, and ran out, followed by all except Luva.

Lilith was now awake, and listening with a sad smile.

“But her rivers are running so fast!” said Luva, who stood by her side and seemed unable to take her eyes from her face. “Her robe is all⁠—I don’t know what. Clumsies won’t like it!”

“They won’t mind it,” answered Mara. “Those rivers are so clean that they make the whole world clean.”

I had fallen asleep by the fire, but for some time had been awake and listening, and now rose.

“It is time to mount, Mr. Vane,” said our hostess.

“Tell me, please,” I said, “is there not a way by which to avoid the channels and the den of monsters?”

“There is an easy way across the riverbed, which I will show you,” she answered; “but you must pass once more through the monsters.”

“I fear for the children,” I said.

“Fear will not once come nigh them,” she rejoined.

We left the cottage. The beasts stood waiting about the door. Odu was already on the neck of one of the two that were to carry the princess. I mounted Lona’s horse; Mara brought her body, and gave it me in my arms. When she came out again with the princess, a cry of delight arose from the children: she was no longer muffled! Gazing at her, and entranced with her loveliness, the boys forgot to receive the princess from her; but the elephants took Lilith tenderly with their trunks, one round her body and one round her knees, and, Mara helping, laid her along between them.

“Why does the princess want to go?” asked a small boy. “She would keep good if she stayed here!”

“She wants to go, and she does not want to go: we are helping her,” answered Mara. “She will not keep good here.”

“What are you helping her to do?” he went on.

“To go where she will get more help⁠—help to open her hand, which has been closed for a thousand years.”

“So long? Then she has learned to do without it: why should she open it now?”

“Because it is shut upon something that is not hers.”

“Please, lady Mara, may we have some of your very dry bread before we go?” said Luva.

Mara smiled, and brought them four loaves and a great jug of water.

“We will eat as we go,” they said. But they drank the water with delight.

“I think,” remarked one of them, “it must be elephant-juice! It makes me so strong!”

We set out, the Lady of Sorrow walking with us, more beautiful than the sun, and the white leopardess following her. I thought she meant but to put us in the path across the channels, but I soon found she was going with us all the way. Then I would have dismounted that she might ride, but she would not let me.

“I have no burden to carry,” she said. “The children and I will walk together.”

It was the loveliest of mornings; the sun shone his brightest, and the wind blew his sweetest, but they did not comfort the desert, for it had no water.

We crossed the channels without difficulty, the children gamboling about Mara all the way, but did