when I left her. Nor until it was too late did I clearly understand
what she was to me. For, by merely seeming fond of me, and showing in
her weak, futile way that she cared for me, the little doll of a
creature presently gave my return to the neighbourhood of the White
Sphinx almost the feeling of coming home; and I would watch for her
tiny figure of white and gold so soon as I came over the hill.
It was from her, too, that I learnt that fear had not yet left the
world. She was fearless enough in the daylight, and she had the oddest
confidence in me; for once, in a foolish moment, I made threatening
grimaces at her, and she simply laughed at them. But she dreaded the
dark, dreaded shadows, dreaded black things. Darkness to her was the
one thing dreadful. It was a singularly passionate emotion, and it set
me thinking and observing. I discovered then, among other things, that
these little people gathered into the great houses after dark, and
slept in droves. To enter upon them without a light was to put them
into a tumult of apprehension. I never found one out of doors, or one
sleeping alone within doors, after dark. Yet I was still such a
blockhead that I missed the lesson of that fear, and in spite of
Weena s distress, I insisted upon sleeping away from these slumbering
multitudes.
It troubled her greatly, but in the end her odd affection for me
triumphed, and for five of the nights of our acquaintance, including
the last night of all, she slept with her head pillowed on my arm. But
my story slips away from me as I speak of her. It must have been the
night before her rescue that I was awakened about dawn. I had been
restless, dreaming most disagreeably that I was drowned, and that sea
anemones were feeling over my face with their soft palps. I woke with a
start, and with an odd fancy that some greyish animal had just rushed
out of the chamber. I tried to get to sleep again, but I felt restless
and uncomfortable. It was that dim grey hour when things are just
creeping out of darkness, when everything is colourless and clear cut,
and yet unreal. I got up, and went down into the great hall, and so out
upon the flagstones in front of the palace. I thought I would make a
virtue of necessity, and see the sunrise.
The moon was setting, and the dying moonlight and the first pallor of
dawn were mingled in a ghastly half-light. The bushes were inky black,
the ground a sombre grey, the sky colourless and cheerless. And up the
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