ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREAM.
AS Kitty darted out of the door she could see the old woman going on
with her burden of kicking children tucked under each arm. It was by no
means easy to follow her tall, bony, wiry figure, for she went at a
great pace, as though she had a very important duty to do, and meant to
do it. The children might kick their shoes off, but on she went. She was
never very distinct, yet she never entirely vanished. The road was long
and straight; over it hung a mist that seemed to be getting deeper and
thicker. Kitty ran along, her eyes fixed upon the old woman’s back; but
she stalked on so fast there was no catching her up. At once she
vanished. The country around was gray and dreary, not a tree, not a
house anywhere, nothing but a gray marshy-looking plain. A little stream
gurgled along, not with a happy murmur as if it were telling joyous
secrets to itself; but glug—glug, as if it were sobbing in the dimness.
Kitty jumped over the stream and cleared it at a leap. A few frogs
croaked. What with the “croak—croak” of the frogs, and the sob—sob of
the water, it was quite enough to make any one weep.
Kitty had been running so fast that she could not stop herself, or
perhaps she would not have been in such a hurry to cross that doleful
stream.
No sooner she had bounded over to the other side than a grim woman stood
before her. She appeared so suddenly that Kitty gave a start and stopped
running. Was it a real woman? Was it the fog that had taken this shape?
Kitty could see distinctly a face peering out of the mist, surrounded by
gray hair and a high mob-cap. Perhaps this was owing to her attention
being fixed upon the large pair of spectacles astride the hooked nose.
[Illustration]
In all her life Kitty had never seen such spectacles. They shone with
extraordinary effect through the dimness, as if they focused all the
light of the place, and it was impossible to see the old woman’s eyes
behind them. No, never had Kitty seen anything so piercing, so searching
as those spectacles! When they fixed their gaze upon her she had an
uncomfortable feeling that she was transparent like the glass jars in
the chemist’s shop, and that the eyes behind the spectacles were seeing
her through and through, right to the other side of her.
“Who are you?” asked the mouth belonging to the spectacles, in a
business-like tone. “I hate wasting time asking questions. My spectacles
usually spare me that trouble. But I can’t make you out. Who brought you
here?”
“Nobody brought me here—that is, nobody except myself,” explained Kitty,
who felt impelled to be very accurate under the inspection of those
shining glassy eyes.
“Humph! Now that you have brought yourself here, what punishment have
you come for?”
“Indeed,” replied Kitty eagerly, “I do not want any punishment—on no
account.”
“Not want a punishment, and yet you come to Punishment Land!” repeated
the old woman, with a smile curling up the corners of her lips. It was
not a pleasant smile. It made Kitty feel a little creepy. “You might as
well say,” continued the mouth belonging to the spectacles, “that you
knock at a doctor’s door, and don’t want medicine.”
“Perhaps I had better go back,” said Kitty hurriedly, for she did not
like the tone of the conversation.
She looked round, but she perceived that the fog had risen and formed
thick walls all round the place. She was in a prison of fog.
“But you see you can’t go back,” remarked the old woman. “Here you are,
and here you must stay. May I ask,” she continued, fixing the full glare
of her glasses upon Kitty, “if you did not come to be punished, what did
you come for? Come, you had better have a whipping; it will do you good
anyhow.”
“I came,” said Kitty, ignoring the last suggestion, and feeling ashamed
of the reason she was going to give, “I came to see the naughtiest
child, and to see how it was punished.”
The old woman smiled sourly. It was certainly a most unpleasant smile.
It curled up and up, until it seemed to curl up into her ears. Kitty
felt a cold shiver go down her back.
“You’re all right for that,” answered the old woman cheerily; “walk on;
you’ll find the naughtiest child here.”
She disappeared as she said this; but the next moment she popped her
head out of the fog again. “Good-by, Miss Curiosity. I hope you’ll enjoy
what you’re going to see. Curious little girls don’t always enjoy what
they find out.”
Her spectacles flashed as if they were laughing, and once more she
disappeared.
“Miss Curiosity indeed!” said Kitty, tossing back her head.
She walked along with her cheeks on fire. Perhaps the mist had cleared
away, or her eyes were growing accustomed to the grayness, for she could
see about her. She was in a wild, flat field, utterly lonely and
loveless, without a blade of grass or a flower, nothing but thistles and
thorns. It stretched far away, solitary and pathless.
“I wish I had not come,” muttered Kitty, feeling frightened at the
solitude. Then she thought she would go back to the old woman with the
spectacles. She was not pleasant, but she was company. No glimpse of the
old woman could she catch. She was alone in the lonely plain. Alone! and
yet Kitty fancied some one was near her—some one quite near, that she
could not see or hear. But who was there behind the fog?
“Why did I come? Oh! why did I come?” she asked herself, trying to
remember why she had set out on this foolish quest. “I am curious! oh! I
am curious!”
[Illustration]
The tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks when she said
this, with a sudden feeling of humiliation in her little heart. As she
stood there crying and looking about her, not knowing what to do, she
saw some one coming toward her. A lady all dressed in white, whose pure
robe trailed on the ground. For a moment Kitty’s heart gave a great
bound, for she thought it was her mother. Then she saw the lady was a
stranger; that she had a beautiful face, sad and majestic.
As Kitty wondered who she was, the stranger drew near. “Who are you? Why
have you come to this sad place?” she said, looking at Kitty with eyes
so tender and penetrating that Kitty felt as if their light were sinking
into her little heart, reading all its secrets. The pale lady could see
as deep as the old woman with the flashing spectacles.
“I came,” answered Kitty, hanging her head, “because I wanted to see the
naughtiest child.”
“The naughtiest child! That was a dreadful wish!” said the fair lady,
and she sighed.
It seemed to Kitty that the sigh was repeated all around and about her,
as if a thousand sighs caught it up and echoed it behind the mist.
“Come,” said the white lady, “you shall have your wish.”
She led the way and Kitty followed; and it seemed to Kitty, as her
guide’s fair robes trailed on the barren loveless ground that a track of
flowers bloomed for a moment as she passed, and that fruit appeared
among the thorns and brambles.
Kitty wondered more and more who this pale lady could be.
“What is your name?” she asked at last looking up into her face.
“My name is Love,” the pale lady replied.
“Love!” repeated Kitty in the greatest astonishment. “Love in Punishment
Land, where there are whippings and puttings to bed!”
The pale lady smiled; her eyes were like the stars that keep their
patient watch at night over the earth.
“They are not children whipped and put to bed early, and kept at
lessons, that I shall show you. You have a little soul.” She laid her
gentle hand on Kitty’s shoulder. “Every child has a little soul, and
here you will see what happens to that soul when it grows sinful. Look
yonder.” She pointed to the wall of fog. “There the souls will look like
bodies, and you will see.”
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