Christmas stories, English; Holidays -- Fiction; Short stories
So, he began to be very busy with that gentleman, and they went on
through the wood together. The whole journey was through a wood, only it
had been open and green at first, like a wood in spring; and now began to
be thick and dark, like a wood in summer; some of the little trees that
had come out earliest, were even turning brown. The gentleman was not
alone, but had a lady of about the same age with him, who was his Wife;
and they had children, who were with them too. So, they all went on
together through the wood, cutting down the trees, and making a path
through the branches and the fallen leaves, and carrying burdens, and
working hard.
Sometimes, they came to a long green avenue that opened into deeper
woods. Then they would hear a very little, distant voice crying,
“Father, father, I am another child! Stop for me!” And presently they
would see a very little figure, growing larger as it came along, running
to join them. When it came up, they all crowded round it, and kissed and
welcomed it; and then they all went on together.
Sometimes, they came to several avenues at once, and then they all stood
still, and one of the children said, “Father, I am going to sea,” and
another said, “Father, I am going to India,” and another, “Father, I am
going to seek my fortune where I can,” and another, “Father, I am going
to Heaven!” So, with many tears at parting, they went, solitary, down
those avenues, each child upon its way; and the child who went to Heaven,
rose into the golden air and vanished.
Whenever these partings happened, the traveller looked at the gentleman,
and saw him glance up at the sky above the trees, where the day was
beginning to decline, and the sunset to come on. He saw, too, that his
hair was turning grey. But, they never could rest long, for they had
their journey to perform, and it was necessary for them to be always
busy.
At last, there had been so many partings that there were no children
left, and only the traveller, the gentleman, and the lady, went upon
their way in company. And now the wood was yellow; and now brown; and
the leaves, even of the forest trees, began to fall.
So, they came to an avenue that was darker than the rest, and were
pressing forward on their journey without looking down it when the lady
stopped.
“My husband,” said the lady. “I am called.”
They listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue, say,
“Mother, mother!”
It was the voice of the first child who had said, “I am going to Heaven!”
and the father said, “I pray not yet. The sunset is very near. I pray
not yet!”
But, the voice cried, “Mother, mother!” without minding him, though his
hair was now quite white, and tears were on his face.
Then, the mother, who was already drawn into the shade of the dark avenue
and moving away with her arms still round his neck, kissed him, and said,
“My dearest, I am summoned, and I go!” And she was gone. And the
traveller and he were left alone together.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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