THAT Diamond had fallen fast asleep is very evident from the strange
things he now fancied as taking place. For he thought he heard a sound
as of whispering up in the great window. He tried to open his eyes, but
he could not. And the whispering went on and grew louder and louder,
until he could hear every word that was said. He thought it was the
Apostles talking about him. But he could not open his eyes.
“And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter?” said one.
“I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, under the Nicodemus
window. Perhaps he has fallen down.
“What do you think, St. Matthew?”
“I don't think he could have crept here after falling from such a
height. He must have been killed.”
“What are we to do with him? We can't leave him lying there. And we
could not make him comfortable up here in the window: it's rather
crowded already. What do you say, St. Thomas?”
“Let's go down and look at him.”
There came a rustling, and a chinking, for some time, and then there was
a silence, and Diamond felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing
round him and looking down on him. And still he could not open his eyes.
“What is the matter with him, St. Luke?” asked one.
“There's nothing the matter with him,” answered St. Luke, who must
have joined the company of the Apostles from the next window, one would
think. “He's in a sound sleep.”
“I have it,” cried another. “This is one of North Wind's tricks. She
has caught him up and dropped him at our door, like a withered leaf or a
foundling baby. I don't understand that woman's conduct, I must say. As
if we hadn't enough to do with our money, without going taking care
of other people's children! That's not what our forefathers built
cathedrals for.”
Now Diamond could not bear to hear such things against North Wind, who,
he knew, never played anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own
work for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, but without success.
“She should consider that a church is not a place for pranks, not to
mention that we live in it,” said another.
“It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she always is disrespectful.
What right has she to bang at our windows as she has been doing the
whole of this night? I daresay there is glass broken somewhere. I know
my blue robe is in a dreadful mess with the rain first and the dust
after. It will cost me shillings to clean it.”
Then Diamond knew that they could not be Apostles, talking like this.
They could only be the sextons and vergers and such-like, who got up at
night, and put on the robes of deans and bishops, and called each other
grand names, as the foolish servants he had heard his father tell of
call themselves lords and ladies, after their masters and mistresses.
And he was so angry at their daring to abuse North Wind, that he jumped
up, crying--“North Wind knows best what she is about. She has a good
right to blow the cobwebs from your windows, for she was sent to do it.
She sweeps them away from grander places, I can tell you, for I've been
with her at it.”
This was what he began to say, but as he spoke his eyes came wide open,
and behold, there were neither Apostles nor vergers there--not even a
window with the effigies of holy men in it, but a dark heap of hay all
about him, and the little panes in the roof of his loft glimmering blue
in the light of the morning. Old Diamond was coming awake down below in
the stable. In a moment more he was on his feet, and shaking himself so
that young Diamond's bed trembled under him.
“He's grand at shaking himself,” said Diamond. “I wish I could shake
myself like that. But then I can wash myself, and he can't. What fun
it would be to see Old Diamond washing his face with his hoofs and iron
shoes! Wouldn't it be a picture?”
So saying, he got up and dressed himself. Then he went out into the
garden. There must have been a tremendous wind in the night, for
although all was quiet now, there lay the little summer-house crushed
to the ground, and over it the great elm-tree, which the wind had broken
across, being much decayed in the middle. Diamond almost cried to see
the wilderness of green leaves, which used to be so far up in the blue
air, tossing about in the breeze, and liking it best when the wind blew
it most, now lying so near the ground, and without any hope of ever
getting up into the deep air again.
“I wonder how old the tree is!” thought Diamond. “It must take a long
time to get so near the sky as that poor tree was.”
“Yes, indeed,” said a voice beside him, for Diamond had spoken the last
words aloud.
Diamond started, and looking around saw a clergyman, a brother of Mrs.
Coleman, who happened to be visiting her. He was a great scholar, and
was in the habit of rising early.
“Who are you, my man?” he added.
“Little Diamond,” answered the boy.
“Oh! I have heard of you. How do you come to be up so early?”
“Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, they waked me up.”
The clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had better have held his
tongue, for he could not explain things.
“You must have been dreaming, my little man,” said he. “Dear! dear!” he
went on, looking at the tree, “there has been terrible work here. This
is the north wind's doing. What a pity! I wish we lived at the back of
it, I'm sure.”
“Where is that sir?” asked Diamond.
“Away in the Hyperborean regions,” answered the clergyman, smiling.
“I never heard of the place,” returned Diamond.
“I daresay not,” answered the clergyman; “but if this tree had been
there now, it would not have been blown down, for there is no wind
there.”
“But, please, sir, if it had been there,” said Diamond, “we should not
have had to be sorry for it.”
“Certainly not.”
“Then we shouldn't have had to be glad for it, either.”
“You're quite right, my boy,” said the clergyman, looking at him very
kindly, as he turned away to the house, with his eyes bent towards the
earth. But Diamond thought within himself, “I will ask North Wind next
time I see her to take me to that country. I think she did speak about
it once before.”