The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge (illustrated by C. Walter Hodges).

[midnight_birth]

Title: The Little White Horse.
Author: Elizabeth Goudge (illustrated by C. Walter Hodges).
Genre: Fiction, bildungsroman, children's lit, YA, fantasy, adventure, romance.
Country: English.
Language: English.
Publication Date: 1946.
Summary: When orphaned young Maria Merryweather arrives at Moonacre Manor, she feels as if she's entered Paradise. Her new guardian, her uncle Sir Benjamin, is kind and funny; the Manor itself feels like home right away; and every person and animal she meets is like an old friend. But there is something incredibly sad beneath all of this beauty and comfort--a tragedy that happened years ago, shadowing Moonacre Manor and the town around it--and Maria is determined to learn about it, change it, and give her own life story a happy ending. But what can one solitary girl do?

My rating: 8/10
My review:


♥

The carriage gave another lurch, and Maria Merryweather, Miss Heliotrope, and Wiggins once more fell into each other's arms, sighed, gasped, righted themselves, and fixed their attention upon those objects which were for each of them at this trying moment the source of courage and strength.

Maria gazed at her boots. Miss Heliotrope restored her spectacles to their proper position, picked up the worn brown volume of French essays from the floor, popped a peppermint into her mouth, and peered once more in the dim light at the wiggly black print on the yellowed page. Wiggins meanwhile pursued with his tongue the taste of the long-since-digested dinner that still lingered among his whiskers.

♥ The crystal beads, as it happened, could not be seen, because Maria's grey silk dress and warm grey wool pelisse, also trimmed with white lamb's-wool, reached to her ankles, but she herself knew they were there, and the thought of those beads, just as in a lesser degree she rested herself against the thought of the piece of purple ribbon that was wound about her slender waist beneath the pelisse, the little bunch of violets that was tucked so far away inside the recessed of her grey velvet bonnet that it was scarcely visible, and the grey silk mittens adorning the small hands that were hidden inside the big white muff. For Maria was one of your true aristocrats; the perfection of the hidden things was even more important to her than the outward show. Not that she did not like the outward show. She did. She was a showy little thing, even when dressed in the greys and purples of the bereaved.

♥ She was a London lady born and bred, and she loved luxury, and in that beautiful house looking out on the London Square she had had it; even though it had turned out at her father's death that he really oughtn't to have had it, because there had not been the money to pay for it.

♥ Miss Heliotrope raised her book of essays and held it within an inch of her nose, determined to get to the end of the one about endurance before darkness fell. She would read it many times in the months to come, she had no doubt, together with the one upon the love that never fails. This last essay, she remembered, she had read for the first time on the evening of the day when she had arrived to take charge of the motherless little Maria, and had found her charge the most unattractive specimen of a female infant that she had ever set yes upon, with her queer silvery eyes and her air, even in babyhood, of knowing that her Blood was Blue and thinking a lot of herself in consequence. Nevertheless, after reading that essay he had made up her mind that she would love Maria, and that her love would never fail the child until death parted them.

At first Miss Heliotrope's love for Maria had been somewhat forced. She had made and mended her clothes with grim determination and with a rather distressing lack of imagination, and however naughty she was had applied the cane only very sparingly, being more concerned with winning the child's affection than with the welfare of her immortal soul. But gradually all that had changed. Her tenderness, when Maria was in any way afflicted, had become eager; the child's clothes had been created with a fiery zeal that made of each small garment a work of art; and she herself had been whipped for her peccadilloes within an inch of her life, Miss Heliotrope caring now not two hoots whether Maria liked her or not, if only she could make of the child a fine and noble woman. This is true love and Maria had known it; and even when her behind had been so sore that she could scarcely sit upon it, her affection for Miss Heliotrope had been no whit abated. And now that she was no longer a child but a young lady in her teens, it was the best thing in her life.

For Maria from babyhood had always known a good thing when she saw it. She always wanted the best, and was quick to recognize it even when, as in the case of Miss Heliotrope, the outer casket gave little indication of the gold within. She was, perhaps, the only person who had ever discovered what a dear person Miss Heliotrope really was; and that, no doubt, was why Miss Heliotrope's feeling for her had become so eager.

♥ Wiggins was greedy, conceited, bad-tempered, selfish, and lazy. It was the belief of Maria and Miss Heliotrope that he loved them devotedly because he always kept close at their heels, wagged his tail politely when spoken to, and even kissed them upon occasion. But all this Wiggins did not from affection but because he thought it good policy. He was aware that from Miss Heliotrope and Maria there emanated all those things which made his existence pleasant to him - his food, always of good quality and served to him with punctuality in a green dish to which he was much attached; his green leather collar; his brush and comb and scented powder and soap. Other mistresses, Wiggins was aware from the conversation of inferior dogs met in the park, could not always be relied on to make the comforts of their pets their first consideration... His could... Therefore Wiggins had made up his mind at an early age to ingratiate himself with Maria and Miss Heliotrope, and to remain with them for as long as they have satisfaction. And he had got some sort of a feeling for them, though it could scarcely be dignified by the term affection; it was more a sense of ownership. They were poor things, Wiggins considered, but his own.

♥ The road grew narrower and narrower, so that the ferns brushed against the carriage upon either side, and bumpier, and bumpier and more and more precipitous, so that they were always either crawling painfully uphill or sliding perilously down what felt like the side of some horrible cliff. In the darkness Miss Heliotrope could no longer read, nor Maria contemplate her boots. But they did not grumble at all, because True Gentlewomen never grumble. Maria clasped her hands tightly inside her muff, and Miss Heliotrope clasped hers under her cloak, and they set their teeth and endured.

♥

"There's a door in the rock!" said Maria, who was leaning so far out of the window that she was in danger of falling headlong into the narrow lane. "Look!"

Miss Heliotrope also leaned out at a perilous angle, and saw that Maria was quite right. There was a door of weathered oak set in the rock, so old that it was of the same colour as the stone and hardly distinguishable from it. It was very large, big enough to admit a carriage. Close beside it there hung a rusty chain that issued from a hole in the wall.

"The coachman is getting down!" ejaculated Maria and with eyes shining with excitement she watched the gnome-like little man as he scurried to the rusty chain, seized hold of it, lifted both legs off the ground and swung there like a monkey on a stick. The result was a deep hollow clanging somewhere within the recesses of the rock. When there had been three clangs the coachman dropped to the ground again, grinned at Maria, and climbed back up the box.

Slowly the great door swung open. The coachman clucked to the old piebald horses, Miss Heliotrope and Maria sat down again, and they moved forward, the door closing behind them as noiselessly as it had opened, shutting out the moonlight and leaving them once more with no illumination but that of the flickering lantern light gleaming upon the wet moss-grown walls of an underground tunnel. It gleaned also, Maria fancied, over some sort of shadowy figure, but of this she could not be sure, because the carriage moved forward before she could get a proper look.

♥ It was all silver. Upon each side of them the trunks of tall trees rose from grass so silvered by the moonlight that it glimmered like water. The trees were not thickly planted, and beautiful glades opened between them, showing glimpses of an ebony sky set with silver stars. Nothing moved. It was all quite still, as though enchanted under the moon. The silvery tracery of twigs and branches above the silver tree trunks was so delicate that the moonlight sifted through it like a fine film of silver dust. But there was life among the trees, though it was life that did not move. Maria saw a silver owl sitting on a silver branch, and a silver rabbit sitting up on its haunches beside the road blinking at the lantern light, and a beautiful group of silver deer... And for a fleeting instant, at the far end of a glade, she thought she saw a little white horse with flowing mane and tail, head raised, poised, halted in mid-flight, as though it had seen her and was glad.

♥ And she pointed to where an orange eye of light was winking at them cheerfully through the topmost branches of a huge black cedar that towered up in front of them like a mountain. There was something wonderfully reassuring about that wink of orange set like a jewel in the midst of all the black and silver. It was a bit of earthliness amongst so much that was unearthly, something that welcomed and was pleased to see her in place of those cold black shadows who had not wanted her to come.

♥ Miss Heliotrope let out a cry of dismay (quickly stifled, because only the ill-bred cry out when confronted by an alarming prospect), thinking of mice and spiders, of both of which she was terrified..

♥ Oh, but it was a glorious house! It towered up before them, its great walls confronting the shadowy garden with a sort of timeless strength that was as reassuring as the light in a window of the tower. And though she had never seen it before, it gave her a feeling of home. For Merryweathers had lived in it for generations, and she was a Merryweather. She was ashamed of her previous dread of coming here. This was home, as the London house had never been. She would rather live here austerely than in the most luxurious palace in he world. As soon as the carriage stopped she would fly inside her home, as chickens scurry for shelter under their mother's wings, and be safe forevermore.

♥ "Welcome, Cousin," he said in a deep, rich, fruity voice, and held out his free hand to her.

"Thank you, Sir," she replied, and curtsied and put her hand into his, and knew that she wold love him from that moment on for always.

♥ After he had taken Maria's hand he looked at her very attentively, as though he were asking himself some question about her. And she trembled a little under his scrutiny, as though she feared herself lacking in some quality he looked for; yet she looked steadily up into his face and did not blink at all.

"A true Merryweather," he said at last in his deep trembling voice. "One of the silver Merryweathers, straight and arrogant and fastidious, brave and the soul of honour, born at the full moon. We shall like each other, my dear, for I was born at midday; and your moon Merryweathers and your sun Merryweathers always take a fancy for one another..."

♥ An animal of sorts, a rarer alarmingly large animal, whose body seemed to stretch the length of the hearth, had raised a huge shaggy head from his forepaws and was gazing at Wiggins's exquisite little face peeping out from beneath Maria's arm. He sniffed once loudly, got the aroma of Wiggins's character, thought apparently little of it, blinked once contemptuously, and laid his head back on his paws. But he did not go to sleep. Through the cascade of reddish hair that fell over them, eyes like yellow lamps shone disconcertingly upon the assembled company; disconcertingly because they were so terribly penetrating. If the eyes of Sir Benjamin had seemed to see a good deal, the eyes of the shaggy creature on the hearth saw infinitely more. What sort of a creature was he, Maria wondered. She supposed he was a dog, and yet, somehow, he wasn't quite like a dog...

"The dog Wrolf," said Sir Benjamin, answering her unspoken question. "There are those who find him alarming, but I assure you that you need to have no fear of him. He is an old dog. He came out of the pine-wood behind the house on Christmas Eve more than twenty years ago, and stayed with us for a while, and then after some trouble in the household he went away again. But just over a year ago - also on Christmas Eve - he came back, and has lived with me ever since, and never to my knowledge harmed even a mouse."

"You have mice?" whispered Miss Heliotrope.

"Hundreds," boomed Sir Benjamin cheerfully.

♥

"I like it," said Maria.

And Miss Heliotrope, looking at Maria's rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes and that entirely new dimple, could not doubt that she spoke the truth. And looking again, more attentively, at the extraordinary little room, she saw that it suited Maria. Standing there so slender and straight in her grey dress, her room seemed to curve itself about her like the petals of a flower about its heart; they completed each other.

♥ "You are Maria are the first members of the fair sex to set foot in these house for twenty years," Sir Benjamin informed her.

"But why, Sir?" asked Maria, her silver spoon arrested in mid-air. "Don't you like females?"

"Not as a general rule," said Sir Benjamin. Then he bowed very gallantly, first to Miss Heliotrope and then to Maria. "But there is always something particularly delightful about exceptions to a rule," he said.

♥ They had been abruptly dismissed, Miss Heliotrope and Maria realized, yet they went bedwards with no sense of outrage, for a little oddness of behaviour was only to be expected in a man who had been for twenty years bereft of the civilizing influence of female companionship... Also he had been startled.

♥ "Such a loving, devoted little Wiggins. You shall have a biscuit, Wiggins. You shall have the largest of the sugar biscuits."

Wiggins received her kisses with his head on one side, his mouth slightly open in anticipation of the biscuit, the tip of his tongue just showing like a pink rosebud. He realized that he was fortunate in that, owing to his misleading outward perfection, people always attributed his actions to the best motives... It made for such a lot of pleasantness all round.

♥ Such was Robin when he had come to play with her in the Square garden; such was he as he companioned her dreams during this first night at Moonacre Manor, strong and kind and merry, warm and flowing like the sun, and the best companion in the world...

In the little room at the top of the tower moonlight and firelight jingled their silver and gold, and Maria smiled as she slept.

♥ She knew it had not been made for her, because it was old-fashioned in style (not that that mattered in this timeless place) and because she could see that it had been worn before; down by the hem a three-cornered tear had been exquisitely mended with thread as fine as a spider's filament. The gloves and the boots, too, were a little rubbed in places, and in one of the pockets of the coat there was a gossamer handkerchief worked in one corner with the monogram L.M. Yet the fastidious Maria found that she did not mind that someone else had worn these clothes first. She had a queer feeling, as she fastened the coat of the habit and pinned the bunch of snowdrops in the front of it, that L. M. - whoever she was - put loving arms about her; almost as her mother might have done, had she not died. "I'll always be safe when I'm wearing this habit," she thought. "People are always safe in their mother's arms."

♥ There was a lovely graceful Adam fireplace, with the carved woodwork of the mantel sweeping up to form a picture frame, with delicate pillars at the sides and some words carved above. "The brave soul and the pure spirit shall with a merry and a loving heart inherit the kingdom together."

.."Please, Sir," said Maria, "what is the meaning of those words that are carved over the fireplace in the parlour?"

"'The brave soul and the pure spirit shall with a merry and a loving heart inherit the kingdom together'," quoted Sir Benjamin. "That's our family motto, my dear. It's been out motto since the days of the first Sir Wrolf. It refers, I think, to the two sorts of Merryweathers, the sun and the moon Merryweathers, who are always merry when they love each other. It is also, perhaps, a device for linking together those four qualities that go to make up perfection - courage, purity, love, and joy."

♥ Then he set her down and, feeling something wet and warm against her hand, she looked round and saw to her astonishment that Wrolf had risen to his feet and was standing beside her licking her hand, his great tail swishing slowly from side to side.

"Look at that now!" cried Sir Benjamin int triumph. "Wrolf knows it. You're the true Merryweather steel, my dear, and Wrolf knows it."

Shyly Maria laid her hand upon Wrolf's great head, and with a beating heart dared to look straight into his strange burning yellow eyes. They looked back at her, taking possession of her. She was his now. Suddenly all fear of him vanished, and she flung her arms round his neck and buried her face in his tawny mane.

♥ It was an old map of the estate, and Maria bent over it with a beating heart; for though it showed her only a few square miles of England's West Country, they were a few square miles that Sir Benjamin said were her very own - her kingdom. And at the right-hand edge of the map was a half-moon of blue that was the sea - Merryweather Bay... It seemed that Maria Merryweather, who had never seen the sea, actually owned a whole half-moon of blue water... And then to the let was the church that she had seen from her west window, called the Church of Mary the Virgin, and the lovely hill behind it was called Paradise Hill. The names on the map, quite ordinary names though they were, sounded in her head like the notes of some beloved familiar piece of music. She looked up into Sir Benjamin's face, smiling but speechless, and he nodded understandingly.

"You've come home, my dear," he said. "But you can't put what you feel into words. No Merryweather can. We don't wear our hearts on our sleeves."

♥

♥ "I don't know what Miss Heliotrope will say about me going out with only the animals," said Maria. "In London I wasn't allowed to walk even to the other end of the street unattended."

"I will talk to her," said Sir Benjamin. "A Princess called to rule a kingdom must know it through and through, if she is to reign worthily. And how can she know it, if she is not given the freedom of it?"

♥ "What a lovely village!" cried Maria. "Oh, Sir, it's the loveliest village that ever was!"

"It's your village," said Sir Benjamin.

"And the people are smiling at me!" cried Maria. "Sir, the people are smiling at me as though they knew me!"

"They are your people," said Sir Benjamin, lifting his absurd great hat in acknowledgement of the smiles and curtsies and touching of foreheads that made their journey along the village street seem almost like a royal progress. "That's right, Maria. Smile and kiss your hand. They have waited for many a long year to have another Princess at Moonacre."

♥ The church was as lovely inside as it was outside, with beautiful soaring pillars like the trunks of trees and arches that sprang upwards like a shout of joy to meet the grand upward curve of the vaulted roof. The windows flowed with the deep rich colours of very old stained glass, and the sun shining through them painted the flag-stones below with all the colours of the rainbow.

♥ It was with reluctance that the Old Parson relinquished Miss Heliotrope's hand, and took Sir Benjamin's instead.

"Squire," he bellowed in a sudden wrath, "on Wednesday last I found a rabbit caught in a trap in your park. I have told you before, and I tell you again, that if you permit traps to be set for God's wild creatures on your land you will spend your eternity caught in a trap yourself!"

♥ The next morning Maria woke up so early that the only light outside her little room was the faint grey light of dawn's beginning. She lay quiet for a little while, listening to the faint country noises, the rustle of leaves, the twitter of birds, the bleating of the lambs in the park, and the cry of an early seagull flying over the roof. Woven together these noises were the notes of a line of music that moved her strangely, as though her heart itself were the keyboard over which the music stirred.

♥ But here, in spite of her fear, she paused, for there suddenly flashed into her mind something that the Old Parson had said to her yesterday. "Excessive female curiosity is not to be commended. Nip it in the bud, my dear, while there in time." Gentlemen, it seemed, did not like females to be curious - though it was difficult to see how one could find out what one wanted to know if one wasn't.

♥

♥ "Robin!" she cried reproachfully. "Why did you leave off coming to the Square garden?"

"We were getting too old for those children's games," he said. "Soon you would have been bored with them, and as soon as you had begun to be bored you wouldn't have believed in me any more. People only believe when they are interested. It was better to go away before you began to be bored. You won't be bored by what we have to do together here - my word, you won't! You'll be frightened, but you won't be bored."

♥ "Hare!" exclaimed Maria. "Why, I thought she was an extra-large rabbit!"

Robin laughed. "Rabbits are all right," he said. "Rabbits are jolly little beggars, and they're fun to keep as pets. But a hare, now, is a different thing altogether. A hare is not a pet but a person. Hares are clever and brave and loving, and they have fairy blood in them. It's a grand thing to have a hare for a friend. One doesn't often, because they have a lot of dignity and keep themselves to themselves; not like rabbits, who are always underfoot; but if you do win the love of a hare - well - it's a fine thing for you... And you've done it."

♥ "I came on with Serena my hare, whom we rescued from them. ..Serena is not to be put in a pie," said Maria firmly. "She is my friend, and is never, never to be eaten. Eating rabbit is bad enough, but eating hare is a crime."

"My dear," said Sir Benjamin, "I seldom eat hare, and when I do I have it not in a pie but jugged in port wine - my best port wine - a royal mode of cookery that befits so regal an animal."

"You are not to jug Serena," said Maria.

♥

♥ "If you are going to wash up, may I dry?" she asked humbly.

Marmaduke Scarlet considered the question. "Are you able to give me your absolute assurance that you are not a smasher?" he demanded.

"I don't think I am," said Maria. "Of course I don't really know, because I've not dried up before."

"Are you accustomed to drop your hairbrush when arranging your coiffure of a morning?" demanded Marmaduke.

"Then you may dry," he said graciously. "You may take one of those dishcloths from the line, fetch yourself a stool, and give me the benefit of your assistance during those ablutions that necessarily, though unfortunately, invariably follow the exercise of the culinary art."

Marmaduke Scarlet, it seemed, made up for the shortness of his stature by using very long words in conversation.

♥ "Does any self-respecting male concern himself with ribbons and laces and female rubbish? Allow me to inform you, young Mistress, that if there is one thing in this universe for which I have not the slightest partiality it is a female. And my master, the Squire, entertains in his bosom the same sensations of distaste for the daughters of Eve as those that lodge in the breast of his humble retainer. Until you and your lady governess arrived upon the steps of this mansion no female had darkened our doors for twenty years."

This was awful.

"But Miss Heliotrope and I couldn't help being born females," faltered Maria.

"I am unaware that we have blamed you for it," said Marmaduke.

♥

♥ "It is early yet, but there is much to say and much to do, and we are well-advised to make an early start."

"Will they be anxious about me if I am not back to breakfast?" asked Maria.

"No," said Old Parson. "I left a message with Zachariah the cat."

♥ Judged by the standards of today, the children of Silverydew had not a great number of toys in the church: indeed, they only had two, but as they were more than satisfied with what they had they were not to be pitied at all; and looking at these treasures through their eyes, Maria quite understood their satisfaction.

♥

♥ BELL SONG
High in the tall church tower,
Signed with the mystic sign,
Theirs since the days of chrism,
The oil and salt and wine,
The great bells wait in silence
Through the long death of night,
For resurrection triumph
And resurrection light.
When dawn comes out of darkness,
Victory out of pain,
Then music shakes the belfry
And spring is born again.

Chorus
Ring again, sweet Marie,
Ring again, Gabriel,
Ring once more, Douce and John,
Cry aloud, tenor bell.
Grey old heads, lifted high,
Peal your old joyful cry
Of life on earth. Life on earth.
Life.

When man and maid are wedded,
With laughter and with tears,
When babes to God are given
For all their coming years,
When oats and corn have ripened
Through blue and golden days,
When harvest home is gathered
With gladness and with praise;
Then grateful hearts are lifted
Up to God's throne above.
Then music shakes the belfry
And joy is born of love.

Chorus
Ring again, sweet Marie,
Ring again, Gabriel,
Ring once more, Douce and John,
Cry aloud, tenor bell.
Grey old heads, lifted high,
Peal your old joyful cry
Of love on earth. Love on earth.
Love.

Earth in a snowy mantle
Beneath the Christmas star,
The shepherds on the hillside,
The wise men from afar,
Ox and ass in the stable,
The children about the Tree,
The father and the mother,
Neighbours, and you and me;
All of us singing praises,
Loving the new-born King,
While music shakes the belfry,
And makes the welkin ring.

Chorus.
Ring again, sweet Marie,
Ring again, Gabriel,
Ring once more, Douce and John,
Cry aloud, tenor bell.
Grey old heads, lifted high,
Peal your old joyful cry
Of peace on earth. Peace on earth.
Peace.

♥ "Please, Sir, will you tell Maria the story of Sir Wrolf Merryweather and the Men from the Dark Woods?"

Old Parson turned his bright penetrating eyes upon Maria. "Are you quite sure that you want to hear it?" he asked. "Sometimes, Maria, a story that one hears starts one off doing things that one would not have had to do if one had not heard it. Sir Benjamin, I notice, has not told you the story. Perhaps he feared to lay upon you a woman's burden, while you are still a child."

The last sentence settled it for Maria. In her opinion no girl in her teens is a child.

♥ But for once Maria was oblivious of good food, and with her hands arrested at her bonnet strings she stood and gazed at Loveday Minette as those gaze who look upon a dream come true and wonder if they sleep or wake. For when in lonely moments the motherless Maria had imagined for herself the mother she would like to have, that mother had been exactly like Loveday Minette.

♥ "Nothing is ever finished and done with in this world," said Old Parson. "You might think a seed was finished and done with when it falls like a dead thing into the earth; but when it puts forth leaves and flowers next spring you see your mistake."

♥ "Do you believe in it?" asked Maria.

"In every fairy-tale there is a kernel of truth," said Old Parson. "I think it likely that only a Moon Princess can deal with the wickedness of the Men from the Dark Woods, because it is a fact that only the moon can banish the blackness of night. And I think it probable that only when she humbles herself to love a poor man will she do it, because it is a fact that nothing worthwhile in this world is achieved without love and humility. And as for the fact that though they consort so well together, the union of sun and moon Merryweathers has so far always ended in a quarrel - well - Sir Wrolf was a sinner, and it is a fact that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children - until the children undo what their fathers did."

♥ "Perhaps he suddenly became fatigued with everything and took himself off to some hermitage, to brood over his wrongs in private. Wicked men do suffer from fatigue a good deal, for wickedness is a very fatiguing thing."

♥ "I think that Paradise Hill ought to be given back to God again," said Maria. "The Merryweathers have no right to it. Things will keep on going wrong between the sun and moon Merryweathers, until they aren't thieves any more."

"Maria," said Old Parson approvingly, "you are a credit to your hitherto not very creditable family."

♥ "Greek and Latin, French, Italian and German," said Old Parson. "A mam or woman should speak all those tongues, Maria, before they can call themselves educated."

♥

♥ Had Loveday got a husband? There were none of the usual signs of a husband, no muddy boots about or tobacco ash upon the floor. He must be a very nice husband.

♥ He had bought a new spade and a new scythe, ten new mousetraps, a bottle of cough mixture for his own use, a pig, a canary in a cage, an enormous meatbone, a bag of biscuits, a bunch of radishes, a paper bag full of bull's-eyes and another full of bright pink boiled sweets, a cod's head, and a large packet of tobacco. It was rather a noisy journey, for the pig was squeaking, the canary was singing at the top of its voice, the mousetraps leaped and rattled at every bump in the road, and the cod's head had the sort of smell that one could almost hear. But Maria enjoyed the drive, in spite of the cod's head, for Digweed was so kind and companionable and she loved him very much.

♥ "Marmaduke Scarlet," she said, actually daring to ask a question because he was so extraordinarily sunny and friendly, "how did Zachariah deliver Old Parson's message?"

Marmaduke Scarlet nodded towards the great hearth.

"Any communication which Zachariah is called upon to deliver he inscribes with his right forepaw in the ashes," he said. "Zachariah is an exceptionally gifted cat. His ancestors were worshipped as gods by the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt, so he tells me, and the blood in his veins is blue, so he tells me. That latter statement I can corroborate, for upon one occasion he had the misfortune to insinuate his nose too near the meat hatchet, while his Sunday meal of beef and liver and bacon was in preparation, and the blood that flowed from the resultant wound was deep bluebell blue."

Maria set down her mug of milk, ran to the hearth and looked at the ashes. They had been spread smoothly, as though with the swish of a long tail, and little pictures bearing a marked resemblance to Egyptian hieroglyphics had been traced on them. First came the outline of a fiddle, then the outline if a sickle moon, and these two were joined together by a circle. Next came a little picture of a church and then if a coffee-pot. Maria laughed in delight. The fiddle, she saw, was the Old Parson and the moon as herself, and they were together, and had gone together to church and breakfast.

♥

♥ She invariably deferred her opinion when they conversed together, and seemed never tired of hearing of the past glories of his family. And though he was jealous of Maria's affection for Serena, he did not object to Serena's deep love for Maria; for Maria was his property and devotion to her reflected glory upon himself.

♥ "Ah yes," said Miss Heliotrope. "He's certainly a great protection. Though sometimes, you know, Maria, one's protector can be almost as alarming as what he protects one from."

"Wrolf would die for those I love," said Maria with conviction.

♥ "What are you talking about, child?" demanded Miss Heliotrope.

"Old Parson had been telling me fairy-tales," said Maria.

"I beg that you will not permit your head to be turned by them," said Miss Heliotrope.

"No," said Maria.

♥ The hills stood all round the valley like a great wall. They were broken only in one place far away to the east, where they fell away like parting curtains to show a shining slab of mother-of-pearl that looked like the doorstep to heaven. What was it? Oh, what was it?

It was the sea! For the first time in her life Maria was looking at the sea. Her heart beat fast and the colour flamed into her cheeks. She was glad, now, that she had not seen the sea that day when she had found Serena. It was best to see it first of all like this, at a far distance. All the best things are seen first of all at a far distance.

♥ It was a blackthorn-tree and it was in bloom already, the blossom white as the little horse that Sir Wrolf had found here entangled in the grey branches; captured by them, as he came to the stream to drink, thirsty after galloping up from the sea. Rooted sturdily among the stones, it stretched protectingly right over the stream, so that the petals fell into the bright clear water. At this very moment, Maria guessed, white petals were floating on the stream beneath the little bridges before each garden gate, perhaps carrying with them the fulfilment of the wishes that the village folk wished here upon high days and holidays.

"I'll wish too," said Maria to herself, and standing with her hand on the old gnarled trunk she wished three things.

That she might rid the valley of the wickedness of the Men from the Dark Woods.

That she might meet that poor shepherd boy and love him.

That she might be the first Moon Princess to live for always in her home.

When she had had her wishes she found that her heart was beating fast. They would be granted, she felt sure, and she was committed to all the adventures that the fulfilment of exciting wishes is bound to bring with it.

♥

♥ "When you do marry, who will you marry?" Robin asked Maria.

Maria swallowed the last of her bread and cream and honey, put her head on one side and stirred her tea thoughtfully. "I have not quite decided yet," she said demurely, "but I think I shall marry a boy I knew in London."

"What?" yelled Robin. "Marry some mincing nincompoop of a Londoner with silk stockings and pomade in his hair and a face like a Cheshire cheese?"

The parkin stuck in his gullet and he choked so violently that Loveday had to pat him on the back and pour him out a fresh cup of tea. When he spoke again his face was absolutely scarlet, not only with the choke but with rage and jealousy and exasperation.

"You dare do such a thing!" he exploded. "You - Maria - you - if you marry a London man I'll wring his neck!"

"Robin! Robin!" expostulated his mother in horror. "I've never seen you in a temper like this before. I did not know you had got a temper."

"Well, you know now," said Robin furiously. "And if she marries that London fellow, I'll not only wring his neck, I'll wring everybody's necks, and I'll go right away out of the valley, over the hills to the town where my father came from, and I won't ever come back here again. So there!"

Maria said nothing at all in response to this outburst. She just continued to drink her tea and look more demure than ever. And the more demure she looked the angrier Robin became. His eyes flashed fire, and his chestnut curls seemed stranding straight up all over his head with fury. Maria was quite sure that if she had been standing behind him she would have seen the twist of hair in the nape of his neck twitching backwards and forwards like a cat's tail. She drank her tea with maddening deliberation and spoke at last.

"Why don't you want me to marry that London boy?" she asked.

Robin brought his fist down on the table with a crash that set all the china leaping. "Because you are going to marry me," he shouted. "Do you hear, Maria? You are going to marry me."

"Robin," said his mother, "that's not at all the way to propose. You should go down on one knee and do it in a very gentle voice."

"How can I go down on one knee when I'm in the middle of my tea?" demanded Robin. "And how can I do it in a gentle voice when I feel as though I had a roaring lion inside me? If I didn't roar, I should burst."

"You can stop roaring, Robin," said Maria. "You can stop, because for the sake pf peace and quiet I have suddenly made up my mind to marry you.

Robin's curls flopped down on his head again and the crimson tide receded from his forehead. "That's all right then," he said with a great sigh of relief.

..But something seemed still troubling Robin very slightly, and at last he burst out: "Maria, who is this London boy you were thinking of marrying?"

"I have never had the slightest intention of marrying any London boy," said Maria.

"But you said -"

"I said, a boy I knew in London," said Maria. "That boy was you."

The last remnant of Robin's jealousy and rage evaporated. He threw back his head and laughed and laughed, roaring not this time with anger but with mirth, and something about that genial roaring reminded Maria abruptly and surprisingly of Sir Benjamin.

"Now listen, children," said Loveday, getting up from the table and standing and looking down on them with sudden deep seriousness, "you are laughing now; but a little while ago Robin was angry and Maria was being as aggravating as she knew how to be. You might have quarrelled very badly. And you must never quarrel. If you do, you will wreck not only your own happiness but the happiness of the whole valley."

♥ "Hod did you manage to come and play with me in the Square garden in London?"

"I went to you when I was asleep," said Robin. "Sometimes I'd be keeping the sheep on Paradise Hill or weeding the manor-house garden, and suddenly I'd feel sleepy, and I'd curl round on the grass or among the flowers and doze off; and then I' find myself in London. Or I'd suddenly feel sleepy while I was scrubbing the Merryweather Chantry, and I'd lie down on top of Sir Wrolf, with my head on the dog, and doze off. Or I'd feel sleepy while I was here with Mother and I'd sit down on the floor and fall asleep with my head on her lap. I asked Mother about it once and she said that we are really all of us two people, a body person and a spirit person, and when the body person is asleep the spirit person, who lives inside it like a letter inside an envelope, can come out and go on journeys."

"I see," said Maria. And suddenly she wondered - was the face she had seen looking back at her from Loveday's mirror that first day she came here the face of her own spirit person? She hoped it was, for it had been a very nice face.

♥ The kitchen, lighted by the glow of the great fire, was gloriously cosy. The canary, as yet uneaten by Zachariah, was singing lustily.

♥ "Sir Benjamin," said Maria. "You have no right to the money that you get from selling the wool that is sheared from the backs of the sheep you keep on Paradise Hill."

"Indeed, Maria!" ejaculated Sir Benjamin. "And why not, pray?"

"Sir Wrolf stole Paradise Hill from God," said Maria firmly. "And tomorrow Old Parson and all the children and I are going to give it back to God. It won't be yours any more."

"Dear me," said Sir Benjamin.

"You just give me your word, Sir," said Maria, "that you will not keep the money for yourself any more, but will give it to the poor."

"My income will be considerably depleted," said Sir Benjamin in rather dry tones.

"You could eat less," suggested Maria helpfully.

♥

♥ "She was strict and severe, and I did not love her, though I am sure now that she must have meant to do her best for the little penniless orphan that I was, arriving at Moonacre possessing nothing in the world but the clothes on my back and ten flower-pots with cuttings of geraniums in them, those glorious salmon-pink geraniums that are the pride of Cornwall."

"So that's why there are so many geraniums in your house," murmured Maria.

"Yes," said Loveday. "The ones at my house, and Old Parson's also, are all the descendants of those original ten cuttings. If I brought sorrow to Moonacre, at least I brought geraniums also."

♥ "What did you quarrel about?"

"The geraniums," said Loveday in a very small voice.

"The geraniums!" gasped Maria. "But how in the world could you have such a dreadful lifelong quarrel just about geraniums?"

"Looking back, I really don't know how we could," said Loveday, "but at the time those geraniums seemed the most important thing in the world. That's the way with quarrels, Maria, especially Merryweather quarrels. They begin over some quite little thing, like pink geraniums, and then the little thing seems to grow and grow until it fills the whole world."

♥ "I suppose we'd better leave the animals at the lych-gate while we go inside the church?"

"No, we'll take them inside," said Loveday. "Old Parson does not mind animals inside the church. He says that dogs and cats and horses are mu

ch the best-behaved of God's children, much better behaved, as a general rule, than men and women, and he never can see why they should be kept out of God's house."

"Nor can I see either," said Maria.

♥ Loveday and Maria sat down on the steps with Wiggins and Serena on their laps, and Wrolf and Periwinkle standing patiently and reverently beside them, and set themselves to the learning of this new song... But Zachariah leaped over the top of the door that led into the Merryweather pew, and sat himself down inside the cushions as though he were all the Pharaohs who had ever lived combined into one magnificent purring personage.

♥ ..he paused beside the pots of geraniums at the door and sniffed.

"They ave a good smell," he said. "A wholesome sort of smell."

"I used to hate pink," said Maria, "but now - these look so nice here - I rather think I'm changing my mind."

"Don't rather think - do it," said Sir Benjamin abruptly, almost crossly. "Don't waste hate on a pink geranium. All colour is of the sun, and good. Keep your hatred for dark things - evil things."

♥ ..Maria carried him. He was trembling a little and, cuddling him close in her arms, she felt much braver. There's nothing like protecting someone more frightened than one is oneself, she thought, to make one feel as brave as a lion... as brave as... Wrolf... She looked at Wrolf going on ahead.

"Robin!" she whispered suddenly, "I don't believe Wrolf is a dog at all; I believe he's a lion!"

"Of course," said Robin.

"But Sir Benjamin always calls him a dog!"

"It wouldn't do to alarm people," explained Robin.

"Well!" marvelled Maria. "Well - I - never! I'm glad I got to know him before I realized what he was."

♥ COCK SONG
We are the men of the northern woods,
Of the moor, the hill and the sea,
Huntsmen, trappers and fishermen wild,
Riding ways that are fierce and free.
We are the men of the great black cock
Who roosts so high on the tall pine-tree,
Crying cock-a-doodle, a-doodle,
Do! Do! Black cock on the tall pine-tree.

We are the sons of thunder and storm,
The frost and the wind and the snow,
We are tumult, the fear of the night,
And darkness wherever we go.

..We are the men of dungeon and wall,
Of axe and of helm and of shield.
We are the men of cudgel and sword,
The fighters who never will yield.

♥ It was a face like an eagle's, dark and wicked, with a cruel hooked nose and flashing black eyes that looked at one very directly but had no softness in them. His black eyebrows beetled alarmingly, and what could be seen of his mouth between his black moustache and thick beard was like one of his own cruel traps. Yet his eyes, though hard, were startled, and Maria knew by instinct if you got people thoroughly startled you can do a lot with them.

♥

♥ "Well, it's been a grand day!" said Robin.

"Yet we haven't done what we meant to do," said Maria. "The Men from the Dark Woods are just as wicked as ever and angrier than they were before. We haven't made them better, we've made them worse."

"Yet I don't seem to mind, do you?" asked Robin.

"No, I don't," said Maria. "I suppose we couldn't expect to succeed at the first try. But there has to be a first try, and now we've had it, and it's behind us."

♥ He jumped off Periwinkle, handed the reins to Maria, put down Wiggins, and sped away through the park in the direction of the gatehouse, turning round once to wave his hand to Maria. The sunset light lit up the long green feather in his hat and his rosy laughing face. Then he was gone, the trees gathering him in to themselves as though he were their child.

♥ She found herself riding with one arm raised to protect her face and her mouth suddenly dry with fear. Once, when an unseen twig plucked at her hair, she thought it was a hand that plucked, and when a bramble caught at her skirt she felt that hands were trying to pull her off Wrolf's back, and she had hard work not to cry out. And then she had a feeling, just because she could not see him, that Wrolf had left her. It was not Wrolf she was riding, but some horrible nightmare beast who was carrying her deeper and deeper into fear. "If there's never any light, I don't think I can bear it," she thought. And then she said to herself that she must bear it. All things come to an end, even the night. Resolutely she lowered the arm she had raised to protect herself, straightened her shoulders and smiled into the darkness.

And then, almost as though her smile had been a flame that set a lantern shining, she found that she could see a little.

..And then she saw him. A little white horse was cantering ahead of them, leading the way, and from his perfect milk-white body, as from a lamp, there shone the light. He was some way ahead of them, but for one flashing moment she saw him perfectly, clear-cut as a cameo against the darkness, and the proud curve of the neck, the flowing white mane and tail, the flash of the silver hoofs, were utterly strange and yet utterly familiar to her, as though eyes that had seen him often before looked through her eyes that had not until now looked steadily upon his beauty; she was not even surprised when he turned his lovely head a little and looked back at her and she saw a strange little silver horn sticking out of his forehead... her little white horse was a unicorn.

After that they travelled with speed, Wrolf managing to keep the little white horse in sight. But they never caught up with him, and Maria didn't again see him so clearly as she had in that first moment of vision; for the rest of the way he was just a steady shining, a moving shape of light whose outline was not again clear-cut against the darkness. Yet she was content with what she saw, content even when the trees thinned out and the darkness faded, and against the growing splendour of moonlight beyond the radiance of the little white horse slowly dimmed; content even when it vanished... For now she had seen him twice over, and the fact of him was a thing that she could not doubt again. And perhaps she would see him once more. She had a strong feeling that she was going to see him just once more.

♥

♥

♥ But Maria was not frightened of the darkness now, and not frightened any more of the tall man striding along beside her... Somehow she was coming rather to like Monsieur Cocq de Noir... He might be a wicked man, but he knew how to laugh and how to strike a bargain.

♥ They were motionless as statues now, the girl and the lion and the man and the cock, as though turned to stone by the beauty of what they saw. To the east, where was the sunrise and the sea, light was stealing into the woods, like a milk-white mist, and as the light grew so did the sound of the sea grow too. And then it seemed as though the light was taking form.

It was still light, but within the light there were shapes moving that were made of yet brighter light and the shapes were those of hundreds of galloping white horses with flowing manes and posed curved necks like the necks of the chessmen in the parlour, and bodies whose speed was the speed of light and whose substance seemed no more solid than that of the rainbow; and yet one could see their outline clear-cut against the night-dark background of the trees... They were the sea-horses galloping inland, as Old Parson had told Maria that they did, in that joyful earth-scamper of theirs that ushered in the dawn.

They were nearly upon them now, and there was the roaring of the sea in their ears and blinding light in their eyes. Monsieur Cocq de Noir gave a cry of fear and shielded his head with his arm, but Maria, though she had to shut her eyes because of the brightness of the light, laughed aloud in delight. For she knew the galloping horses would not hurt them; they would just wash over them like light, or like the rainbow when one stands in the fields in the sun and the rain.

And it happened like that. There was a moment of indescribably freshness and exhilaration, like a wave breaking over one's head, and then the sea-sound died away in the distance and, opening their eyes, they saw again only the faint grey ghostly light that showed them no more than just the faint shapes of the trees ad the outline of each other's faces. The white horses had all gone... all except one.

They saw him at the same moment, standing beneath the giant pine-tree to their right, with neck proudly arched, one delicate silver hoof raised, half turned away as though arrested in mid-flight. And then he, too, was gone, and there was nothing in the woods except the normal growing light of dawn.

There was a very long silence, while they stood looking at the pine-tree, with the great gaping hole among its roots where the men had forced their way through the day before, sad and desolate because they both knew they would never again see the lovely thing that had just vanished. Then the black cock crowed again and the spell was broken.

♥ ..Maria and Wrolf rode swiftly homewards in a wonderful dawn that changed from grey to silver, and from silver to gold, and blossomed as they came out of the pinewoods into one of those rosy dawns edged with saffron and amethyst that usher in the blue of a happy day.

♥ The pink geraniums in the window of that room over the tunnel... she could see them more clearly than usual today, because that window, that had until now always been closed, had been flung wide open to the dawn.

She stood still and looked up at them, and she found herself rejoicing in their beauty. After all, though pink was not her favourite colour, it was a colour and, as Sir Benjamin had said, all colour is of the sun, and good. And pink is the colour of dawn and sunset, the link between day and night. Sun and moon alike ought both to love pink, because when one is rising and the other setting they so often greet each other across an expanse of rosy sky.

♥ "Plum cake. Saffron cake. Cherry cake. Iced fairy cakes. Eclairs. Gingerbread. Meringues. Syllabub. Almond fingers. Rock cakes. Chocolate drops. Parkin. Cream horns. Devonshire splits. Cornish pasty. Jam sandwiches. Lemon-curd sandwiches. Lettuce sandwiches. Cinnamon toast. Honey toast..."

"But, surely, Marmaduke, seven people won't eat all that!" interrupted Maria.

"I always like to be prepared for more guests than are actually expected," said Marmaduke. "Also I gathered from the tone of your voice that this tea-patty was to be a great occasion, and great occasions need to be greatly celebrated. The mere suggestion of meanness, upon a great occasion, is much to be deprecated. The bodily sustenance of the inner man as well as the aesthetic satisfaction of the outward eye should be on a lavish scale."

♥ "Now I'm going to get tidy for breakfast, and after breakfast I'm going to sleep and sleep and sleep."

"You look as though you needed it," her relative assured her. "I never saw a clearer case of the morning after the night before."

♥

♥ Then she and Marmaduke collected together all the beloved animals that they might help in the preparations for the happy ending that they had laboured so hard to bring about - Wrolf, Wiggins, Zachariah, Serena, and Periwinkle. Marmaduke demurred about bringing Periwinkle actually into the house, but she was led up the steps and stood at the open front door where she could watch all that went on. It might have been argued that the part taken by Wiggins in the animals' labour had not been worth mentioning, but Wiggins today was looking so wonderfully beautiful that everyone forgot that perhaps his behaviour did not always match his looks.

♥ "And you didn't mind that I had to finish things without you?"

"Not in the least," Robin assured her cheerfully. "Not provided you tell me all about it."

"I'll tell you all about it while we get ready for the party we're going to have," said Maria. "All my life, Robin, I'll always tell you all about everything."

"And I'll tel you," said Robin. "If I didn't you'd ask so many questions that life would not be worth living."

♥

♥ And to Maria he said, "Your Royal Highness, the deep-laid schemes of managing women have never until now commended themselves to me. But in yours I willingly entangle myself. For the witchery of the moon is in them, and so brave is the moon, confronting so great a darkness with so small a face, that a man who does not count himself her willing slave is a born fool."

♥ It was to the credit of Sir Benjamin and Loveday that, drawn from the parlour to the hall by the row going on there, they were able immediately to emerge from their private happiness and assume the roles of host and hostess to twenty men whom they had hitherto regarded as their enemies without any appearance of stupefaction... But the Merryweathers had lived for a very long time at Moonacre Manor, and in their best days had all loved hospitality, so that the sound of welcoming voices had sunk into the very walls of the house and the movement of welcoming feet had worn hollows in the flagstones, and the present master and mistress had only to yield themselves to the spirit that breathed from the place for all to be well... And Marmaduke Scarlet, entering at this moment with two enormous jugs of claret, seemed to make things even better.

♥ They ate and drank and laughed and sang songs, and when at last the men rode away singing into the sunset, there was not a crumb of food or a drop of anything to drink left upon the table; nor a drop of hatred in any heart nor a crumb of bitterness in any mind. Everything was explained and forgiven, and the future stretched before them with a fair promise.

A fair promise that was fulfilled, because they all of them lived happy ever after.

♥ At that very moment a sunbeam striking through the green spring leaves above their heads lit upon them, and Miss Heliotrope saw the name of her one-time lover written upon the flyleaf of one book in her own handwriting, and Old Parson saw the name of the only woman he had ever cared about written upon the title page of the other in his handwriting. And at that very same moment another sunbeam lit up the locket she was wearing, and Old Parson recognized it as the locket he had given her years ago when they were young, with a lock of his hair in it.

And after that they had a great deal to say to each other, because however old you are you never forget the time when you were young, or the people you loved when you were young; indeed, the older you get the more clearly you remember the times and the more dearly you love the people...

♥ Getting married is rather catching, and once one couple do it others are likely to do it also.

♥ ..Miss Heliotrope did not have indigestion any more, because her indigestion had originally been the result of her grief at her separation from Louis de Fontenelle, and now that she was married to him there wasn't any point in having indigestion.

♥ Robin wore a brand-new jerkin made of the brightest emerald green, with primroses in his button-hole, and he carried in his hand a green hat trimmed with a cockade of gold and silver ribbon and a bunch of cock's feathers that Monsieur Cocq de Noir had with his own hand pulled from the tail of his big black cock, as a sign that there was now undying friendship between the Men from the Dark Woods and the Merryweathers.

♥ Happy were the days of sunlight, and happy the moonlit nights, too, and full of sweet dreams.

But in this world nothing stays still, and in the fullness of time Miss Heliotrope and Old Parson became very old indeed, and tired of life in this world, so they took off their bodies and laid them aside and went joyfully away into the next. And after many long years Sir Benjamin and Loveday did the same, and then Maria, who was Sir Benjamin's heiress, inherited Moonacre and ruled there with her husband Robin. He was the brave soul and she was the pure spirit of their family motto, and one in heart, merry and loving, they inherited the kingdom together. And they never quarrelled, as other Merryweather lovers had done, so Wrolf did not have to leave them, but remained with them always. They had ten children, and the ten of them kneeling with their father and mother on the twelve hassocks in the Merryweather pew in the church were a goodly sight, and when Maria looked down the row she felt she had nothing else to wish for... at least, only one thing...

For sometimes in her dreams at night she stood beneath the branches of a mysterious wood, and looked down a moonlit glade, her eyes straining after something that she could not see. And wen she woke up, there would be tears on her cheeks because her longing had been unsatisfied. Yet she was not unhappy because of this dream. She knew that one day, when she was a very old woman, she would dream this dream for the last time, and in this last dream of all she would see the little white horse, and he would not go away from her. He would come towards her and she would run towards him, and he would carry her upon his back away and away, she did not quite know where, but to a good place, a place where she wanted to be.