The Princess and Curdie

ss of the

eatly to account for the strange fact that however often she shut the door, which, like the rest, she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble to do, she was certain, the next time she went to it, to find it open. I speak now of the great front door, of course: the back door she as persistently kept wide: if people coul

be more stairs yet, for he could not be near the top of the tower. Indeed by the situation of the stairs, he must be a good way from the tower itself. But those who work well in the depths more easily understand the heights, for indeed in their true nature they are one and the same; miners

the time-for you can do that kind of thing in your mind-and took every turn of the stair over again, always watching to remember, every time he turned his

r-they were the stairs up which the princess ran when first, without knowing it, she was on her way to find her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the second stair he

and although there were doors on both sides of it, they were all shut. At the distant window glimmered the chill east, with a few feeble stars in it, and its like was dreary and old, growing brown, and looking as if it were thinking about the day that was just gone. Presently he turned in

ge, which brought him to a door. He was afraid to open it without first knocking. He knocked, but heard no answer. He was answered nevertheless; for the door gently opened, and there was a narrow stair-and so steep that, big lad as he

was the spinning wheel that first taught him to make verses, and to sing, and to think whether all was right inside him; or at least it had helped him in all these things. Hence

s and rhymes, till he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep does not always come first. But suddenly came the tho

Curdie,' s

e red-spotted white thing in his hand! He dared not hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door through which the sound came, and what did he see? Nothing at fir

ie?' said the voice. 'Did yo

ered Curdie, in a trembling

, which was thin and quavering: 'I

o moon outside

e inside now,'

satisfy Curdie; but

ere are many moons-and of many sorts. Come in and look out of my window,

member his manners. He shut the door, and

ittle hands at work with it. And then at last, in the shadow on the other side of the moonlight which came like silver between, he saw the form to which the hands belonged: a small withered creature, so old that no age would have seemed too great to write under her picture, seated on a stool beyond the spinning wheel, which looked v

ed. Her crooked back bent forward over her chest, her shoulders nearly swallowed up her head between them, and her two little hands were just like the grey claws of a hen, scratching at the thread, which to Curdie was of course invisible across the moonlight. Indeed Curdie laughed within

for, Curdie?' she sai

rit, and worst of all, as one who had his confession

aid, and advanced a step or

ou got there

to the moonlight. The moment the rays fell upon it the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The old lady put out her

tressed she was he grew

harm, ma'am. I didn't t

ome of it now?' she returned. 'You say you didn

nswered

rong are in far more need of it always than those who are in the right: they can afford to do without it. Therefore I say for you that when you

said Curdie, 'but if a body was never to do anything but what he

to know the good of the things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. I don't mean you are good for doing them.

e lau

ngs to do. Now tell me what bad thing you have done t

self a very good fellow on the whole. 'I really don't think I did anything else that was very bad all day,' he said to himself. But at the same time he could not honestly feel that he was worth standing up for. All at onc

e whole day, and such a many days besides! Indeed, I don't know when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if I had done right some time and had forg

better to come to the point, you know,' said the o

ent anything away, and never looked out for anything to come. I haven't been attending to my mother-or my father either. And now I think of it, I know I have often seen them looking troubled, and I have never asked them what was the matte

almost as if she had been crying. 'When people don't care to be bett

imed Curdie. '

and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you don't mind.

read out one of its red-spotted w

nd in a week or two it will be flying again.

u!' cried Curdie. 'I don

for. Do better, and grow better, and be better. An

my bow and arrows, and you

would burn your bow

them all under my mother's p

hot. There are plenty of bad things that want killing, and a day will come when

aid Curdie. 'Wha

ld lady; 'if you should hear anyone speak

e, shocked that she should t

sionally interferes. They mean me, though what they say is often great nonsense. Now what I want of you is not to laugh, or side with them in any way; bec

, ma'am. I'

man smiled

ontinued, 'I don't want you to say anything-only t

die,'now that I've seen you

her curious smile. 'I want to be your friend,' she added after a

ll, ma'am,'

o me again when you find yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do for you-only the canning depends on yo

ery old, but as grand as she was old, and only rather severe-looking. Every trace of the decrepitude and witheredness she showed as she hovered like a film about her wheel, had vanished. Her hair was very white, but it hung about her head

t you!' cried Curdie. 'I s

truth when I sat at my w

m,' answer

,' she rejoined. 'It is a bad thing indeed to

m was utterly dark. A great fear, such as he had never before known, came upon him, and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his way to the door, and crawled down the stair-in doubt and anxiety as to how he should find his way out of the house in the dark. And

ay well. As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought that he was delivered from the blood of the little bird, and he ran the next h