Fifty-Two Stories For Girls Part 20

Grace looked very earnestly into the priest's face while he spoke; and after he had finished she was so long silent that at last he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about your face," she answered. "You won't think me rude, will you?"

"No, certainly not."

"Well, of course, you are just my dear old Indian priest, with the strange, dark face and nice white beard, exactly like I have always known you, only ever so much bigger and taller; and I'm sure that long wand is much finer than the little gold bar you generally hold; but I can't help thinking you are just a little like my mother's Uncle Jacob, who left us the Magic Cabinet. I have often looked at him in the alb.u.m, and your eyes have a look in them like his. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," answered the old man, smiling kindly; and then he went back to the sails again, because the boat was nearing a little island.

"Are we going to get out here?" asked Grace.

"Yes; you want me to do something for you, don't you?" And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled some silken cords, which folded up the purple sails like the wings of a resting-bird, and the boat grounded gently, and without the slightest shock, on a mossy bank.

Taking the little girl in his arms, the old man sprang ash.o.r.e. Bright flowers and ripe fruits grew in abundance on this fairy-like island, and birds of gorgeous plumage flew hither and thither, filling the sunny air with music.

But the old priest did not seem to notice any of these things. He led Grace by the hand up the mossy bank, and through a thicket of flowering shrubs into a glade, in the centre of which he halted and said, "Now, what is it to be?"

"Oh, I can't choose," said Grace, looking eagerly up into his face. "You know I want mother to be quite well; and I don't want you or the Magic Cabinet to go away from us. But I don't know what you had better do.

Please, please, do whatever you like; I know it will be nice."

The old priest smiled, and struck the ground with his golden wand. Then there was such a noise that Grace had to cover up both her ears; and at the same time, out of the ground, at a little distance, there rose a great red-brick house, with queer twisted chimneys and overhanging gable-ends.

Grace stared with astonishment from the house to the gravely-smiling priest; and at last she cried, "Why, it is our dear old home where we used to live before we got so poor! I must be asleep and dreaming."

"Well, and if you are, don't you like the dream?" asked her old friend.

"Yes, yes, it's a beautiful dream; it can't be true," said Grace; and then she added quickly, "May we go into the house?"

"Yes, if you like," he answered; and he took her by the hand, and led her up the steps and through the doorway.

II.

UNCLE JACOB'S GIFT.

When Grace pa.s.sed through the doorway of the red-brick house, which the old priest had raised in such a magical fashion out of the ground, she looked eagerly round the hall, and then clapped her hands and cried, "Why, I do believe everything is here just as it used to be. I don't remember all these beautiful pictures and things; but mother and father have often told me about them. Oh, I wish they could be here to see!"

Her guide did not answer, but still holding her by the hand, he led her into a s.p.a.cious room. It was so pretty that it almost took Grace's breath away. The softness of the carpets, the colours of the curtains and other drapery, the glittering mirrors on the walls, everything she saw was new and wonderful to her, and seemed like nothing so much as a story out of the "Arabian Nights."

But before she could do anything more than give one little gasp of delight, the old Indian priest at her side waved his golden wand.

Then a curtain which hung before a doorway at a little distance was suddenly looped up, and, with a light step, Grace's mother, looking rosy and well, came into the room.

Grace gave the old man's hand a hard squeeze, but although she had a great longing to run straight into her mother's arms, some strange feeling held her back. After feasting her eyes for a moment on her mother's bright and happy face, she whispered, "Where's father?"

Again the wonderful golden wand was raised, and then the curtain which had fallen into its place before the doorway was pushed hastily aside, and Grace saw her father.

All traces of sorrow and care had left his face; he held his head high, his eyes shone with a glad light, and in his hands he carried a large book bound in white and gold.

As he entered the room, Mrs. Goodman turned, and with a little cry of joy went to meet him. Then an expression came into her father's face which Grace could not understand, as silently, and with bowed head, he gave the beautiful book into his wife's hands.

"At last!" cried Grace's mother, taking it from him, and her voice was broken by a sob, while the tears gathered in her eyes; but still Grace could see that she was very happy.

Grace was very happy, too, and she could scarcely take her eyes from her father and mother when she heard the voice of the Indian priest speaking to her.

"Is there anything more you would like?" the old man asked.

"Oh, how kind and good you are!" cried Grace, squeezing his hand harder than ever; "and how ungrateful I am to forget all about you. You have chosen the loveliest things."

"But don't you want anything for yourself?" asked her strange friend.

"You may choose anything you like."

Grace looked all round the big room, and it seemed so full of pretty things that at first she could not think of anything to wish for; but suddenly she gave a little jump and cried: "The Magic Cabinet! It isn't here; and I would like to have it, please."

The old man looked grave; but he answered at once: "You have chosen, so you must have it; for in this country a choice is too serious a thing to be taken back. If you don't like it you must make the best of it. But you know you can't be at both sides of the cabinet at one and the same time. Come with me."

Grace felt a little uncomfortable as the old man led her quickly across the room and through the curtained doorway by which her father and mother had entered.

Directly the curtain fell behind them she found that they were in the dark; and, although she still held her friend's hand, she began to be afraid.

"Oh, whatever is going to happen? I can't see anything at all!" she cried.

"I am going to wave my golden wand," answered the slow and solemn voice of the Indian priest.

As he spoke there was a vivid flash of light. Little Grace gave a violent start, and rubbed her eyes; and then--and then she burst into tears.

For what do you think that sudden flash of light had shown her?

It had shown her that she was back again in the shabby little home she had known so long; that her mother, pale and ill as ever, was just awakening from her sleep; that her father had returned and was lighting the lamp; that the little carved figure of the Indian priest was sitting motionless before the temple on the doors of the Magic Cabinet; and, showing her all this, it also showed her that she had been fast asleep and dreaming.

It was too hard to bear. To think that the wonderful power of the magic priest, the beautiful fairy-like country, the dear old home, her mother's health and happiness, and her father's book,--to think that all these delightful things were only parts of a strange dream was a terrible disappointment to Grace, and she cried as if her heart would break.

"Why, darling," said her father, crossing the room and lifting up the little girl in his strong arms, "is it as bad as all that? Can't you bear to part with the old cabinet, even for mother's sake?"

"It's--it's not that," sobbed Grace, hiding her face on his shoulder.

"I--I wish we could keep the cabinet; but it's not that. It's my dream."

"Your dream, dear? Well, come and tell mother and me all about it."

Mr. Goodman sat down in a chair beside his wife, and when she could control her sobs, Grace told them the whole story of her strange journey to the other side of the Magic Cabinet.

When she had finished her father said: "Well, darling, it was a very pleasant dream while it lasted; but beautiful things can't last for ever any more than ugly ones. It is no wonder that you should have had such a dream after all our talk about Uncle Jacob's fancies, and the Buddhist priest, and the good fortune that was supposed to come to the owners of the Magic Cabinet."

"Yes, I'm not surprised about all that, especially as Grace has always made-believe about that funny little priest," said Mrs. Goodman; "but I can't think what set her dreaming about a k.n.o.b inside the cabinet."

"Oh, that's not only a dream," cried Grace. "I have often seen the little k.n.o.b, and I have pushed it and pulled it, but I can never make it move."

"Why didn't you tell us about it? I'm sure I have never seen it," said her mother.