THE next night Rosebud lay awake, anxiously waiting for the hour when granny should go forth with her lantern. Her heart beat quickly at the thought of what must that night be done, of all that Bertha expected from her, and she only a little girl, only Rosebud.
But courage was by no means wanting. And, besides, she was very curious to see the sweet singer,—the pleasant-voiced maiden, who, she felt sure, must be wondrously beautiful.
At length footsteps were heard in the next room, the outer door closed, and Rosebud could see from her window the old woman hobbling away to the Wood. She followed, well wrapped in her cloak. Everything was the same as before,—the dew upon the grass, the stillness, the brightness, all the same. Having reached the Wood, Rosebud watched very closely where the old woman disappeared, and entered, behind her, the opening of which Bertha had spoken. She remembered the ten stone stairs, counted them one by one, and reached the bottom in safety. Granny was making her way along the passage; at length she paused, and set down the lantern. Stooping over, she removed a stone from the wall near the ground; from behind this stone she drew out a heavy brass key, with which she proceeded to open the iron door.
Rosebud felt a strong desire to follow still farther, and, if possible, get just one glimpse of the mysterious singer and her little maid, but deemed it wiser to follow Bertha’s directions and return home at once.
Not many days after, granny, one fine morning, took her staff and her bundle, and started for the town. “Now,” thought Rosebud, “now, if ever, must I fulfil my promise.”
And when Myrtle had gone off for a day’s fishing, as granny now often compelled him to do; and when she had piled up her drift-wood, and scrubbed the platters, and sanded the floor, and looked at her plants, and driven the geese to water,—she hastened away over hills and valleys to the Wood, as she had often done before.
The flat stone was soon found, and, after some exertion, removed. Carefully descending the ten steep stairs, she found herself in a narrow passage below. If she had but thought of the lantern! But it was now too late for that.
With both hands extended, she groped along the passage to the iron door. Here, stooping down, she soon found the loose stone. The heavy brass key was drawn forth, and applied to the lock. But, although it turned freely, the door would not open. What was now to be done? There was no time to lose. Suppose some chance traveller were to find the entrance? or suppose granny herself should happen that way?
Again she grasped the key, again it turned in the lock, and again the door would not open.