Diamond could not feel quite lonely. He stood staring, not at the great
warrior Orion in the sky, nor yet at the disconsolate, neglected moon
going down in the west, but at the drawing-room window with the light
shining through its green curtains. He had been in that room once or
twice that he could remember at Christmas times; for the Colemans were
kind people, though they did not care much about children.
All at once the light went nearly out: he could only see a glimmer of
the shape of the window. Then, indeed, he felt that he was left alone.
It was so dreadful to be out in the night after everybody was gone
to bed! That was more than he could bear. He burst out crying in good
earnest, beginning with a wail like that of the wind when it is waking
up.
Perhaps you think this was very foolish; for could he not go home to his
own bed again when he liked? Yes; but it looked dreadful to him to creep
up that stair again and lie down in his bed again, and know that North
Wind's window was open beside him, and she gone, and he might never see
her again. He would be just as lonely there as here. Nay, it would be
much worse if he had to think that the window was nothing but a hole in
the wall.
At the very moment when he burst out crying, the old nurse who had grown
to be one of the family, for she had not gone away when Miss Coleman did
not want any more nursing, came to the back door, which was of glass, to
close the shutters. She thought she heard a cry, and, peering out with a
hand on each side of her eyes like Diamond's blinkers, she saw something
white on the lawn. Too old and too wise to be frightened, she opened the
door, and went straight towards the white thing to see what it was. And
when Diamond saw her coming he was not frightened either, though
Mrs. Crump was a little cross sometimes; for there is a good kind
of crossness that is only disagreeable, and there is a bad kind of
crossness that is very nasty indeed. So she came up with her neck
stretched out, and her head at the end of it, and her eyes foremost of
all, like a snail's, peering into the night to see what it could be that
went on glimmering white before her. When she did see, she made a
great exclamation, and threw up her hands. Then without a word, for she
thought Diamond was walking in his sleep, she caught hold of him, and
led him towards the house. He made no objection, for he was just in
the mood to be grateful for notice of any sort, and Mrs. Crump led him
straight into the drawing-room.
Now, from the neglect of the new housemaid, the fire in Miss Coleman's
bedroom had gone out, and her mother had told her to brush her hair by
the drawing-room fire--a disorderly proceeding which a mother's wish
could justify. The young lady was very lovely, though not nearly so
beautiful as North Wind; and her hair was extremely long, for it came
down to her knees--though that was nothing at all to North Wind's hair.
Yet when she looked round, with her hair all about her, as Diamond
entered, he thought for one moment that it was North Wind, and, pulling
his hand from Mrs. Crump's, he stretched out his arms and ran towards
Miss Coleman. She was so pleased that she threw down her brush, and
almost knelt on the floor to receive him in her arms. He saw the next
moment that she was not Lady North Wind, but she looked so like her he
could not help running into her arms and bursting into tears afresh.
Mrs. Crump said the poor child had walked out in his sleep, and Diamond
thought she ought to know, and did not contradict her for anything he
knew, it might be so indeed. He let them talk on about him, and said
nothing; and when, after their astonishment was over, and Miss Coleman
had given him a sponge-cake, it was decreed that Mrs. Crump should take
him to his mother, he was quite satisfied.
His mother had to get out of bed to open the door when Mrs. Crump
knocked. She was indeed surprised to see her, boy; and having taken
him in her arms and carried him to his bed, returned and had a long
confabulation with Mrs. Crump, for they were still talking when Diamond
fell fast asleep, and could hear them no longer.
CHAPTER III. OLD DIAMOND
DIAMOND woke very early in the morning, and thought what a curious dream
he had had. But the memory grew brighter and brighter in his head, until
it did not look altogether like a dream, and he began to doubt whether
he had not really been abroad in the wind last night. He came to the
conclusion that, if he had really been brought home to his mother by
Mrs. Crump, she would say something to him about it, and that would
settle the matter. Then he got up and dressed himself, but, finding that
his father and mother were not yet stirring, he went down the ladder to
the stable. There he found that even old Diamond was not awake yet, for
he, as well as young Diamond, always got up the moment he woke, and
now he was lying as flat as a horse could lie upon his nice trim bed of
straw.
“I'll give old Diamond a surprise,” thought the boy; and creeping up
very softly, before the horse knew, he was astride of his back. Then
it was young Diamond's turn to have more of a surprise than he had
expected; for as with an earthquake, with a rumbling and a rocking
hither and thither, a sprawling of legs and heaving as of many backs,
young Diamond found himself hoisted up in the air, with both hands
twisted in the horse's mane. The next instant old Diamond lashed out
with both his hind legs, and giving one cry of terror young Diamond
found himself lying on his neck, with his arms as far round it as they
would go. But then the horse stood as still as a stone, except that he
lifted his head gently up to let the boy slip down to his back. For
when he heard young Diamond's cry he knew that there was nothing to
kick about; for young Diamond was a good boy, and old Diamond was a good
horse, and the one was all right on the back of the other.
As soon as Diamond had got himself comfortable on the saddle place, the
horse began pulling at the hay, and the boy began thinking. He had never
mounted Diamond himself before, and he had never got off him without
being lifted down. So he sat, while the horse ate, wondering how he was
to reach the ground.
But while he meditated, his mother woke, and her first thought was to
see her boy. She had visited him twice during the night, and found him
sleeping quietly. Now his bed was empty, and she was frightened.
“Diamond! Diamond! Where are you, Diamond?” she called out.
Diamond turned his head where he sat like a knight on his steed in
enchanted stall, and cried aloud,--
“Here, mother!”
“Where, Diamond?” she returned.
“Here, mother, on Diamond's back.”
She came running to the ladder, and peeping down, saw him aloft on the
great horse.
“Come down, Diamond,” she said.
“I can't,” answered Diamond.
“How did you get up?” asked his mother.
“Quite easily,” answered he; “but when I got up, Diamond would get up
too, and so here I am.”
His mother thought he had been walking in his sleep again, and hurried
down the ladder. She did not much like going up to the horse, for she
had not been used to horses; but she would have gone into a lion's den,
not to say a horse's stall, to help her boy. So she went and lifted him
off Diamond's back, and felt braver all her life after. She carried him
in her arms up to her room; but, afraid of frightening him at his own
sleep-walking, as she supposed it, said nothing about last night. Before
the next day was over, Diamond had almost concluded the whole adventure
a dream.
For a week his mother watched him very carefully--going into the loft
several times a night--as often, in fact, as she woke. Every time she
found him fast asleep.
All that week it was hard weather. The grass showed white in the morning
with the hoar-frost which clung like tiny comfits to every blade. And
as Diamond's shoes were not good, and his mother had not quite saved
up enough money to get him the new pair she so much wanted for him,
she would not let him run out. He played all his games over and over
indoors, especially that of driving two chairs harnessed to the baby's
cradle; and if they did not go very fast, they went as fast as could be
expected of the best chairs in the world, although one of them had only
three legs, and the other only half a back.
At length his mother brought home his new shoes, and no sooner did she
find they fitted him than she told him he might run out in the yard and
amuse himself for an hour.
The sun was going down when he flew from the door like a bird from its
cage. All the world was new to him. A great fire of sunset burned on the
top of the gate that led from the stables to the house; above the fire
in the sky lay a large lake of green light, above that a golden cloud,
and over that the blue of the wintry heavens. And Diamond thought that,
next to his own home, he had never seen any place he would like so much
to live in as that sky. For it is not fine things that make home a nice
place, but your mother and your father.
As he was looking at the lovely colours, the gates were thrown open,
and there was old Diamond and his friend in the carriage, dancing with
impatience to get at their stalls and their oats. And in they came.
Diamond was not in the least afraid of his father driving over him, but,
careful not to spoil the grand show he made with his fine horses and his
multitudinous cape, with a red edge to every fold, he slipped out of the
way and let him dash right on to the stables. To be quite safe he had
to step into the recess of the door that led from the yard to the
shrubbery.
As he stood there he remembered how the wind had driven him to this same
spot on the night of his dream. And once more he was almost sure that
it was no dream. At all events, he would go in and see whether things
looked at all now as they did then. He opened the door, and passed
through the little belt of shrubbery. Not a flower was to be seen in the
beds on the lawn. Even the brave old chrysanthemums and Christmas roses
had passed away before the frost. What? Yes! There was one! He ran and
knelt down to look at it.
It was a primrose--a dwarfish thing, but perfect in shape--a
baby-wonder. As he stooped his face to see it close, a little wind began
to blow, and two or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower
shook and waved and quivered, but the primrose lay still in the green
hollow, looking up at the sky, and not seeming to know that the wind was
blowing at all. It was just a one eye that the dull black wintry earth
had opened to look at the sky with. All at once Diamond thought it was
saying its prayers, and he ought not to be staring at it so. He ran to
the stable to see his father make Diamond's bed. Then his father took
him in his arms, carried him up the ladder, and set him down at the
table where they were going to have their tea.
“Miss is very poorly,” said Diamond's father. “Mis'ess has been to
the doctor with her to-day, and she looked very glum when she came out
again. I was a-watching of them to see what doctor had said.”
“And didn't Miss look glum too?” asked his mother.
“Not half as glum as Mis'ess,” returned the coachman. “You see--”
But he lowered his voice, and Diamond could not make out more than a
word here and there. For Diamond's father was not only one of the finest
of coachmen to look at, and one of the best of drivers, but one of
the most discreet of servants as well. Therefore he did not talk about
family affairs to any one but his wife, whom he had proved better than
himself long ago, and was careful that even Diamond should hear nothing
he could repeat again concerning master and his family.
It was bed-time soon, and Diamond went to bed and fell fast asleep.
He awoke all at once, in the dark.
“Open the window, Diamond,” said a voice.
Now Diamond's mother had once more pasted up North Wind's window.
“Are you North Wind?” said Diamond: “I don't hear you blowing.”
“No; but you hear me talking. Open the window, for I haven't overmuch
time.”
“Yes,” returned Diamond. “But, please, North Wind, where's the use? You
left me all alone last time.”
He had got up on his knees, and was busy with his nails once more at the
paper over the hole in the wall. For now that North Wind spoke again,
he remembered all that had taken place before as distinctly as if it had
happened only last night.
“Yes, but that was your fault,” returned North Wind. “I had work to do;
and, besides, a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.”
“But I'm not a gentleman,” said Diamond, scratching away at the paper.
“I hope you won't say so ten years after this.”
“I'm going to be a coachman, and a coachman is not a gentleman,”
persisted Diamond.
“We call your father a gentleman in our house,” said North Wind.
“He doesn't call himself one,” said Diamond.
“That's of no consequence: every man ought to be a gentleman, and your
father is one.”
Diamond was so pleased to hear this that he scratched at the paper like
ten mice, and getting hold of the edge of it, tore it off. The next
instant a young girl glided across the bed, and stood upon the floor.
“Oh dear!” said Diamond, quite dismayed; “I didn't know--who are you,
please?”
“I'm North Wind.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes. Make haste.”
“But you're no bigger than me.”
“Do you think I care about how big or how little I am? Didn't you see me
this evening? I was less then.”
“No. Where was you?”
“Behind the leaves of the primrose. Didn't you see them blowing?”
“Yes.”
“Make haste, then, if you want to go with me.”
“But you are not big enough to take care of me. I think you are only
Miss North Wind.”
“I am big enough to show you the way, anyhow. But if you won't come,
why, you must stay.”
“I must dress myself. I didn't mind with a grown lady, but I couldn't go
with a little girl in my night-gown.”
“Very well. I'm not in such a hurry as I was the other night. Dress
as fast as you can, and I'll go and shake the primrose leaves till you
come.”
“Don't hurt it,” said Diamond.
North Wind broke out in a little laugh like the breaking of silver
bubbles, and was gone in a moment. Diamond saw--for it was a starlit
night, and the mass of hay was at a low ebb now--the gleam of something
vanishing down the stair, and, springing out of bed, dressed himself as
fast as ever he could. Then he crept out into the yard, through the
door in the wall, and away to the primrose. Behind it stood North
Wind, leaning over it, and looking at the flower as if she had been its
mother.
“Come along,” she said, jumping up and holding out her hand.