For Jeremy the place had had always an indescribable fascination. When
he was very young there had been absolute trust that things would grow;
that every kind of wonder might spring before one's eyes at any moment
of the day. Then, when no wonder came, there had been the thrill of the
empty boxes of earth; the probing with one's fingers to see what the
funny-looking bulbs would be, and watching the fronds of the pale vine.
Afterwards, there was another fascination--the fascination of some
strange and sinister atmosphere that he was much too young to define.
The place, he knew, was different from the rest of the house. It
projected, conventionally enough, from the drawing-room; but the heavy
door with thick windows of red glass shut it off from the whole world.
Its rather dirty and obscure windows looked over the same country that
Jeremy's bedroom window commanded. It also caught all the sun, so that
in the summer it was terribly hot. But Jeremy loved the heat. He was
discovered once by the scandalised Jampot quite naked dancing on the
wooden boards, his face and hands black with grime. No one could ever
understand “what he saw in the dirty place,” and at one time he had been
forbidden to go there. Then he had cried and stamped and shouted, so
that he had been allowed to return. Amongst the things that he saw there
were the reflections that the outside world made upon the glass; it
would be stained, sometimes, with a strange, green reflection of the
fields beyond the wall; sometimes it would catch the blue of the sky,
or the red and gold of the setting sun; sometimes it would be grey
with waving shadows across its surface, as though one were under water.
Through the dirty windows the country, on fine days, shone like distant
tapestry, and in the glass that covered the farther side of the place
strange reflections were caught: of cows, horses, walls, and trees--as
though in a kind of magic mirror.
Another thing that Jeremy felt there, was that he was in a glass cage
swinging over the whole world. If one shut one's eyes one could easily
fancy that one was swinging out--swinging--swinging, and that, suddenly
perhaps, the cage would be detached from the house and go sailing,
like a magic carpet, to Arabia and Persia, and anywhere you pleased to
command.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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