The Shape of Fear | Page 8

it, and the
sun had not yet colored nor man defiled it.

THEIR DEAR LITTLE GHOST
THE first time one looked at Els- beth, one was not prepossessed. She
was thin and brown, her nose turned slightly upward, her toes went in
just a perceptible degree, and her hair was perfectly straight. But when
one looked longer, one perceived that she was a charming little creature.
The straight hair was as fine as silk, and hung in funny little braids
down her back; there was not a flaw in her soft brown skin, and her
mouth was tender and shapely. But her particular charm lay in a look
which she habitually had, of seeming to know curious things -- such as
it is not allotted to ordinary persons to know. One felt tempted to say to
her:
"What are these beautiful things which you know, and of which others
are ignorant? What is it you see with those wise and pel- lucid eyes?
Why is it that everybody loves you?"
Elsbeth was my little godchild, and I knew her better than I knew any
other child in the world. But still I could not truthfully say that I was
familiar with her, for to me her spirit was like a fair and fragrant road in
the midst of which I might walk in peace and joy, but where I was
continually to discover something new. The last time I saw her quite
well and strong was over in the woods where she had gone with her
two little brothers and her nurse to pass the hottest weeks of summer. I
followed her, foolish old creature that I was, just to be near her, for I
needed to dwell where the sweet aroma of her life could reach me.
One morning when I came from my room, limping a little, because I
am not so young as I used to be, and the lake wind works havoc with
me, my little godchild came dancing to me singing:
"Come with me and I'll show you my places, my places, my places!"
Miriam, when she chanted by the Red Sea might have been more
exultant, but she could not have been more bewitching. Of course I
knew what "places" were, because I had once been a little girl myself,

but unless you are acquainted with the real meaning of "places," it
would be useless to try to ex- plain. Either you know "places" or you do
not -- just as you understand the meaning of poetry or you do not.
There are things in the world which cannot be taught.
Elsbeth's two tiny brothers were present, and I took one by each hand
and followed her. No sooner had we got out of doors in the woods than
a sort of mystery fell upon the world and upon us. We were cautioned
to move silently, and we did so, avoiding the crunching of dry twigs.
"The fairies hate noise," whispered my little godchild, her eyes
narrowing like a cat's.
"I must get my wand first thing I do," she said in an awed undertone.
"It is useless to try to do anything without a wand."
The tiny boys were profoundly impressed, and, indeed, so was I. I felt
that at last, I should, if I behaved properly, see the fairies, which had
hitherto avoided my materialistic gaze. It was an enchanting moment,
for there appeared, just then, to be nothing commonplace about life.
There was a swale near by, and into this the little girl plunged. I could
see her red straw hat bobbing about among the tall rushes, and I
wondered if there were snakes.
"Do you think there are snakes?" I asked one of the tiny boys.
"If there are," he said with conviction, "they won't dare hurt her."
He convinced me. I feared no more. Presently Elsbeth came out of the
swale. In her hand was a brown "cattail," perfectly full and round. She
carried it as queens carry their sceptres -- the beautiful queens we
dream of in our youth.
"Come," she commanded, and waved the sceptre in a fine manner. So
we followed, each tiny boy gripping my hand tight. We were all three a
trifle awed. Elsbeth led us into a dark underbrush. The branches, as
they flew back in our faces, left them wet with dew. A wee path, made

by the girl's dear feet, guided our footsteps. Perfumes of elderberry and
wild cucumber scented the air. A bird, frightened from its nest, made
frantic cries above our heads. The under- brush thickened. Presently the
gloom of the hemlocks was over us, and in the midst of the shadowy
green a tulip tree flaunted its leaves. Waves boomed and broke upon
the shore below. There was a growing dampness