I opened the door, and stepped out. The moment my foot touched the
smooth sward, I seemed to issue from the door of an old barn on my
father's estate, where, in the hot afternoons, I used to go and lie
amongst the straw, and read. It seemed to me now that I had been asleep
there. At a little distance in the field, I saw two of my brothers at
play. The moment they caught sight of me, they called out to me to come
and join them, which I did; and we played together as we had done years
ago, till the red sun went down in the west, and the gray fog began
to rise from the river. Then we went home together with a strange
happiness. As we went, we heard the continually renewed larum of a
landrail in the long grass. One of my brothers and I separated to a
little distance, and each commenced running towards the part whence the
sound appeared to come, in the hope of approaching the spot where the
bird was, and so getting at least a sight of it, if we should not be
able to capture the little creature. My father's voice recalled us from
trampling down the rich long grass, soon to be cut down and laid aside
for the winter. I had quite forgotten all about Fairy Land, and the
wonderful old woman, and the curious red mark.
My favourite brother and I shared the same bed. Some childish dispute
arose between us; and our last words, ere we fell asleep, were not of
kindness, notwithstanding the pleasures of the day. When I woke in the
morning, I missed him. He had risen early, and had gone to bathe in the
river. In another hour, he was brought home drowned. Alas! alas! if we
had only gone to sleep as usual, the one with his arm about the other!
Amidst the horror of the moment, a strange conviction flashed across my
mind, that I had gone through the very same once before.
I rushed out of the house, I knew not why, sobbing and crying bitterly.
I ran through the fields in aimless distress, till, passing the old
barn, I caught sight of a red mark on the door. The merest trifles
sometimes rivet the attention in the deepest misery; the intellect has
so little to do with grief. I went up to look at this mark, which I did
not remember ever to have seen before. As I looked at it, I thought I
would go in and lie down amongst the straw, for I was very weary with
running about and weeping. I opened the door; and there in the cottage
sat the old woman as I had left her, at her spinning-wheel.