“Or,” continued Miss Hortensia, “sometimes on a marvellously beautiful day—what people call a ‘heavenly’ day, I have had a feeling rather like it. A feeling that makes one shut one’s eyes for very pleasure.”
“Well,” said Ruby, “did you shut your eyes then, or what did you do?”
“No,” said her cousin. “I could not have shut them. I felt she was looking at me, and her eyes seemed to catch and fasten mine and draw them into hers. It was her eyes above all that filled me with that beautiful wonderful feeling. I can never forget it—never. I could fancy sometimes even now, old woman as I am, that I am again the little enraptured child gazing up at the beautiful vision. I feel her eyes in mine still.”
“How funny you are,” interrupted Ruby. “A minute ago you said she pulled your eyes into hers, now you say hers came into yours. It would be a very funny feeling whichever it was; I don’t think I should like it.”
Miss Hortensia glanced at her, but gravely. She did not smile.
“It must be a very ‘funny’ feeling, as you call it, to a hitherto blind man the first time he sees the sunshine. I daresay he would find it difficult to describe; and to a still blind person it would be impossible to explain it. I daresay the newly-cured man would not feel sure whether the sun had come into his eyes or his eyes had reached up to the sun.”
Ruby fidgeted.
“Oh, do go on about the fairy or whatever she was,” she said. “Never mind about what I said.”
Miss Hortensia smiled.
“The lady came slowly across the room to me,” she went on, “and stood by my bed, looking down at me with those wonderful blue eyes. Then she smiled, and it seemed as if the light about her grew still brighter. I thought I sat up in bed to see her better. ‘Are you a fairy?’ I said at last. She smiled still more. ‘If you like, you may call me a fairy,’ she answered. ‘But if I am a fairy my home must be fairyland, and this turret-room is one of my homes. So you are my guest, my little girl.’ I did not mind her saying that. I smiled too. ‘I’ve never seen you here before,’ I said. And she laughed a little—I never heard anything so pretty as her laugh. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but I have seen you and every one that has ever been here, though every one has not seen me. Now listen, my child. I wanted you to see me because I have something to say to you. There will come a time when you will be drawn two ways, one will be back here to the old castle by the sea, after many years; many, many years as you count things. Choose that way, for you will be wanted here. Those yet unborn will want you, for they will want love and care. Look into my eyes, little girl, and promise me you will come to them.’ And in my dream I thought I gazed again into her eyes, and I felt as if their blue light was the light of a faith and truth that could not be broken, and I said, ‘I promise.’ And then the fairy lady seemed to draw a gauze veil over her face, and it grew dim, and the wonderful eyes were hidden, and I thought I fell asleep. In reality, I suppose, I had never been awake.”