CHAPTER XXV
WILL O'DREAMS REPORTS A DISCOVERY

We have seen how time passed in the castle where Everychild and his companions had come to dwell. Now let us see what followed.

On a beautiful summer day Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty sat in the great room of the golden furniture and the fire place and the alcove. They occupied two little golden chairs near the middle of the room. They were rocking placidly and saying nothing to each other. Now they rocked backward and forward together, and again they rocked quite contrariwise.

And what have we here? Close to the Sleeping Beauty there was a tiny cradle, all of gold. And in it—well, you could see tresses of wonderful golden hair, and the most marvelous blue eyes which would open and shut, and a complexion which was simply perfect. Just now the eyes were closed.

At a little distance from them there was a spectacle most beautiful to behold. This was afforded by the Masked Lady and the task in which she was engaged. She stood near an immense open window, beside the most beautiful dove-cote ever seen. It was silver and green, topping a pillar of gold. It had several compartments, all containing pure white doves. These were engaged in bringing or carrying messages. At intervals doves entered the open window and perched on the Masked Lady's arms. These were placed in the cote and others were removed from the cote and carried to the window, from which they flew away and disappeared.

While the Masked Lady was engaged in this task it was to be noted that there was a very sad expression in her eyes. She was turning over certain things in her mind.

The truth is that Everychild had been married just a year, and she was thinking how it would be necessary before long for him to be conducted to the grim Mountain of Reality. She knew that this was a very terrible experience, or that it would seem so just at first; and that is why there was a sad expression in her eyes. She knew very well, however, that the matter could not be put off very much longer. Indeed, she had been able to detect an occasional shadow in Everychild's eyes which proved that he was already beginning to see the formidable Mountain of Reality in the distance. I should also explain that the messages she was sending and receiving with the aid of the white doves all had a bearing upon the plan she had in mind of taking Everychild, ere long, upon the most difficult journey he was ever to make.

Although silence reigned in the room, there was the murmur of children's voices in the distance, occasionally rising to a joyous shout. The children were clearly at play in some invisible court; and when their cries were particularly joyous, Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty glanced at each other and smiled indulgently.

At length the voices of the children became inaudible; and a moment later Cinderella entered the room. She stood an instant, her hands on her hips and an almost impatient expression in her eyes; and then she approached Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty.

Everychild glanced up at her with a slightly patronizing smile. "Well, Cinderella?" he asked.

She put her hair back rather energetically and exclaimed—"Oh, I'm bored. That's the honest truth. Those games out there—they do get so tiresome. And Grettel is such a simpleton, really. She keeps saying 'Think of something else for us to play, Cinderella—think of something else.' She never thinks of anything herself. Neither does Hansel, nor any of them."

She sighed and glanced back the way she had come, and it was to be noted that the sound of playing had not been resumed.

It was the Sleeping Beauty who replied. "Never mind, Cinderella," she said. "You know I realize quite well what it is to be bored." She had spoken gently; and now she smiled with a certain playfulness. "The prince with the missing slipper will find you soon enough. You've only to be patient, and the day will come when you'll seldom be bored any more."

"I don't know, I'm sure," said Cinderella; and with perfect candor she added, "Aren't you bored? You look it: sitting there as if you hadn't a single thought in your head."

The Sleeping Beauty laughed. "You dear, foolish thing!" she replied. "Bored? The idea! I'm perfectly happy. Of course, there are times …" She broke off and meditated, and actually sighed. "Come, we'll go and look at the goldfish," she added briskly.

They went away together, taking cradle and all. All of a sudden they seemed as energetic as sparrows. They seemed for the moment really indifferent to Everychild, who remained in his chair alone.

When they had gone he leaned forward in an elegant yet somewhat dejected attitude, his hands clasped between his knees. Then he arose, shrugging his shoulders as if a burden were clinging to them, and turned toward the Masked Lady.

"What are you doing?" he asked wonderingly.

She set free a fine dove, which immediately disappeared through the window.

"I am getting ready for a very important journey," she said.

He watched her intently. Presently he said, in a strange, abashed tone, "You seem a very nice, kind lady, after all!"

She did not reply to this, because a dove came in at that instant and she busied herself placing it in its compartment in the cote.

He continued to regard her, though he was now studying her face, rather than taking note of her work with the doves. "Sometimes," he continued falteringly, "I have a wish to speak to you—I mean, to tell you of things which I cannot speak of to others."

"I have tried always, Everychild, to be close to you," she said.

For an instant it seemed to him that it would not be difficult at all to speak to her of what was in his heart. And he said, "You know I—I am not very happy."

She replied to this with gentle mockery. "Not happy?" she said; "and yet there are many to play with you, and none to turn away from you with coldness and indifference—any more."

He became strangely still. What did she mean by that? He had never told her about his childhood; he had never mentioned his parents to her. Whom could she be, that she should know so many things without having to be told? Or was she speaking only of the present, without reference to the past?

"My playmates are all friendly," he said; "but you know I have come far from home …"

When he faltered she added, "But have you found what you started out to find?"

He was a little embarrassed. "What I started out to find?" he echoed. "I don't seem to remember——"

"You know you started out to find the truth," she said.

He nodded. "So I did," he declared. "But so many things have happened, especially since I found the Sleeping Beauty, and it's been so nice, most of the time …"

"Still, you shouldn't give up, you know," she said. "Maybe that's the reason why you're not quite happy—because you haven't found the truth."

He sighed heavily. She hadn't comforted him, after all. And somehow he could not tell her that what ailed him was that he was heartsick to see his parents again. He remembered the pretty sitting room at home, and the way his father and mother used to look; and it seemed to him that if he could go back they would perhaps be happy to see him. But he could not speak of all this to the Masked Lady.

He was greatly amazed when she said in a low tone: "It would be the same thing over again if you didn't find the truth before you went back."

It was quite as if he had spoken his thoughts to her aloud!

He drew away from her uneasily; but even as he did so she received another dove which fluttered in at the window. And as she read the message it had brought she said musingly—almost as if she were reading the message, and not speaking to him at all—" Everychild shall find his parents again! "

He felt that he almost loved her when he heard those words—almost, yet not quite. His heart beat more lightly. He wondered where all the children had gone. He listened for their voices.

It was then that an outer door opened hurriedly and the giant, Will o'Dreams, entered the room. Perceiving Everychild, he stood an instant with clinched hands and uplifted face; and then he cried out in a loud voice:

"Everychild!"

And Everychild replied, with a little of that kindly condescension which a married man feels toward a youth, "Well, my boy?"

The giant cried out with elation, "Everychild, I have found her house!"

"You have found her house?" echoed Everychild in perplexity.

"My mother's house! I have seen it again! These many days, while you have been happy here, I have made countless journeys far and near. I made a final search. I could not give her up. And now I have found her house—the house where I dwelt when I was a child!"

This was good news, indeed. Everychild knew how the heart of the giant had yearned for his mother. He smiled delightedly. "Ah, and so you have seen her at last!" he cried.

"I have not seen her—no," confessed the giant. "They would not allow me to enter—they who surround her. I was but one, and they were many; and they are cruel and relentless. But now that I have found the place which shelters her I shall not give up until I stand face to face with her again. Dear Everychild …"

"Well?" said Everychild, seeing that his friend found it very hard to continue.

"I have come now to tell you we must part. I could not remain away, remembering that I had not bade you farewell. But now I go to watch for her until she emerges from her door, or until her followers slumber … Oh, the obstacles shall be as nothing. Only rejoice with me that I am to meet her again at last!"

But Everychild's heart became heavy. "And we must part?" he asked in a low voice. "Please do not say so! We, who have become like brothers … is there no other way?"

"There is no other way," replied the giant. "Do not doubt that I too shall grieve because of our parting; but after searching for her in vain all these years …"

But Everychild, after a moment's reflection, cried out resolutely, "There is another way. I shall go with you! And after you have found her, who knows——"

The giant was now happy indeed. "You will go with me?" he cried; "you will leave all that makes you happy here and go with me into possible perils? Then make haste—oh, make haste, that we may be on our way."

And speaking thus the giant rushed eagerly from the room.

For a moment Everychild stood lost in thought. It was the Masked Lady who aroused him. "It will be but a short journey," she said; and it seemed to Everychild that she spoke sadly. "Go with him, and be sure you shall make a speedy return."

He would have gone, then. Already he was putting great energy into his feet, that he might overtake the giant. But the Masked Lady detained him.

"A word," she said. "Be patient with him, and comfort him, whatever may befall. And Everychild—take this with you."

As she spoke she produced quite magically the slim, shining sword she had lent him once before. "Carry this," she said. "When it is drawn a certain door which would otherwise remain shut will open wide. And be of good cheer."

He took the sword mutely, wonderingly. How should it cause a door to open? he mused.

When he had reached the outer door he turned to look again upon the Masked Lady. She was smiling a little oddly—almost sadly, he thought. She was holding forth her hands toward the open window. She was not paying heed to him now. White doves were entering at the window and alighting on her hands. 9uITzGBPG/eyEE4f8JpyVHCHV5Cb5SQaV/hzwQdcwRvxcUIUcC5H2bOQFvQhthGk