The Princess and the Goblin George MacDonald (read ebook pdf .txt) 📖

she should lose her way it would not matter much, because when she woke she would find herself in her own bed with Lootie not far off. But, as if she had known every step of the way, she walked straight to the door at the foot of the narrow stair that led to the tower.

“What if I should realliality-really find my beautiful old grandmother up there!” she said to herself as she crept up the steep steps.

When she reached the top she stood a moment listening in the dark, for there was no moon there. Yes! it was! it was the hum of the spinning-wheel! What a diligent grandmother to work both day and night! She tapped gently at the door.

“Come in, Irene,” said the sweet voice.

The princess opened the door and entered. There was the moonlight streaming in at the window, and in the middle of the moonlight sat the old lady in her black dress with the white lace, and her silvery hair mingling with the moonlight, so that you could not have told which was which. “Come in, Irene,” she said again. “Can you tell me what I am spinning?”

“She speaks,” thought Irene, “just as if she had seen me five minutes ago, or yesterday at the farthest.⁠—No,” she answered; “I don’t know what you are spinning. Please, I thought you were a dream. Why couldn’t I find you before, great-great-grandmother?”

“That you are hardly old enough to understand. But you would have found me sooner if you hadn’t come to think I was a dream. I will give you one reason though why you couldn’t find me. I didn’t want you to find me.”

“Why, please?”

“Because I did not want Lootie to know I was here.”

“But you told me to tell Lootie.”

“Yes. But I knew Lootie would not believe you. If she were to see me sitting spinning here, she wouldn’t believe me, either.”

“Why?”

“Because she couldn’t. She would rub her eyes, and go away and say she felt queer, and forget half of it and more, and then say it had been all a dream.”

“Just like me,” said Irene, feeling very much ashamed of herself.

“Yes, a good deal like you, but not just like you; for you’ve come again; and Lootie wouldn’t have come again. She would have said, No, no⁠—she had had enough of such nonsense.”

“Is it naughty of Lootie, then?”

“It would be naughty of you. I’ve never done anything for Lootie.”

“And you did wash my face and hands for me,” said Irene, beginning to cry.

The old lady smiled a sweet smile and said:

“I’m not vexed with you, my child⁠—nor with Lootie either. But I don’t want you to say anything more to Lootie about me. If she should ask you, you must just be silent. But I do not think she will ask you.”

All the time they talked the old lady kept on spinning.

“You haven’t told me yet what I am spinning,” she said.

“Because I don’t know. It’s very pretty stuff.”

It was indeed very pretty stuff. There was a good bunch of it on the distaff attached to the spinning-wheel, and in the moonlight it shone like⁠—what shall I say it was like? It was not white enough for silver⁠—yes, it was like silver, but shone grey rather than white, and glittered only a little. And the thread the old lady drew out from it was so fine that Irene could hardly see it. “I am spinning this for you, my child.”

“For me! What am I to do with it, please?”

“I will tell you by and by. But first I will tell you what it is. It is spiderweb⁠—of a particular kind. My pigeons bring it me from over the great sea. There is only one forest where the spiders live who make this particular kind⁠—the finest and strongest of any. I have nearly finished my present job. What is on the rock now will be enough. I have a week’s work there yet, though,” she added, looking at the bunch.

“Do you work all day and all night, too, great-great-great-great-grandmother?” said the princess, thinking to be very polite with so many greats.

“I am not quite so great as all that,” she answered, smiling almost merrily. “If you call me grandmother, that will do. No, I don’t work every night⁠—only moonlit nights, and then no longer than the moon shines upon my wheel. I shan’t work much longer tonight.”

“And what will you do next, grandmother?”

“Go to bed. Would you like to see my bedroom?”

“Yes, that I should.”

“Then I think I won’t work any longer tonight. I shall be in good time.”

The old lady rose, and left her wheel standing just as it was. You see there was no good in putting it away, for where there was not any furniture there was no danger of being untidy.

Then she took Irene by the hand, but it was her bad hand and Irene gave a little cry of pain. “My child!” said her grandmother, “what is the matter?”

Irene held her hand into the moonlight, that the old lady might see it, and told her all about it, at which she looked grave. But she only said: “Give me your other hand;” and, having led her out upon the little dark landing, opened the door on the opposite side of it. What was Irene’s surprise to see the loveliest room she had ever seen in her life! It was large and lofty, and dome-shaped. From the centre hung a lamp as round as a ball, shining as if with the brightest moonlight, which made everything visible in the room, though not so clearly that the princess could tell what many of the things were. A large oval bed stood in the middle, with a coverlid of rose colour, and velvet curtains all round it of a lovely pale blue. The walls were also blue⁠—spangled all over with what looked like stars of silver.

The old lady left her and, going to a strange-looking cabinet, opened it and took out a