In her haste and anxiety, however, Nicie had struck into another sheep-track, and was now higher up the hill; so that Ginny could see no living thing nearer than in the valley below: far down there--and it was some comfort, in the desolation that now began to invade her--she saw upon the road, so distant that it seemed motionless, a cart with a man in it, drawn by a white horse.Never in her life before had she felt that she was alone.She had often felt lonely, but she had always known where to find the bodily presence of somebody.Now she might cry and scream the whole day, and nobody answer! Her heart swelled into her throat, then sank away, leaving a wide hollow.It was so eerie! But Nicie would soon come, and then all would be well.
She sat down on a stone, where she could see the path she had come a long way back.But "never and never" did any Nicie appear.At last she began to cry.This process with Ginny was a very slow one, and never brought her much relief.The tears would mount into her eyes, and remain there, little pools of Baca, a long time before the crying went any further.But with time the pools would grow deeper, and swell larger, and at last, when they had become two huge little lakes, the larger from the slowness of their gathering, two mighty tears would tumble over the edges of their embankments, and roll down her white mournful cheeks.This time many more followed, and her eyes were fast becoming fountains, when all at once a verse she had heard the Sunday before at church seemed to come of itself into her head: "Call upon me in the time of trouble and I will answer thee." It must mean that she was to ask God to help her: was that the same as saying prayers? But she wasn't good, and he wouldn't hear anybody that wasn't good.Then, if he was only the God of the good people, what was to become of the rest when they were lost on mountains? She had better try; it could not do much harm.Even if he would not hear her, he would not surely be angry with her for calling upon him when she was in such trouble.So thinking, she began to pray to what dim distorted reflection of God there was in her mind.They alone pray to the real God, the maker of the heart that prays, who know his son Jesus.If our prayers were heard only in accordance with the idea of God to which we seem to ourselves to pray, how miserably would our infinite wants be met! But every honest cry, even if sent into the deaf ear of an idol, passes on to the ears of the unknown God, the heart of the unknown Father.
"O God, help me home again," cried Ginevra, and stood up in her great loneliness to return.
The same instant she spied, seated upon a stone, a little way off, but close to her path, the beast-boy.There could be no mistake.
He was just as she had heard him described by the children at the gamekeeper's cottage.That was his hair sticking all out from his head, though the sun in it made it look like a crown of gold or a shining mist.Those were his bare arms, and that was dreadful indeed! Bare legs and feet she was used to; but bare arms! Worst of all, making it absolutely certain he was the beast-boy, he was playing upon a curious kind of whistling thing, making dreadfully sweet music to entice her nearer that he might catch her and tear her to pieces! Was this the answer God sent to the prayer she had offered in her sore need--the beast-boy? She asked him for protection and deliverance, and here was the beast-boy! She asked him to help her home, and there, right in the middle of her path, sat the beast-boy, waiting for her! Well, it was just like what they said about him on Sundays in the churches, and in the books Miss Machar made her read! But the horrid creature's music should not have any power over her! She would rather run down to the black water, glooming in those holes, and be drowned, than the beast-boy should have her to eat!
Most girls would have screamed, but such was not Ginny's natural mode of meeting a difficulty.With fear, she was far more likely to choke than to cry out.So she sat down again and stared at him.
Perhaps he would go away when he found he could not entice her.He did not move, but kept playing on his curious instrument.Perhaps, by returning into the hollow, she could make a circuit, and so pass him, lower down the hill.She rose at once and ran.
Now Gibbie had seen her long before she saw him, but, from experience, was afraid of frightening her.He had therefore drawn gradually near, and sat as if unaware of her presence.Treating her as he would a bird with which he wanted to make better acquaintance, he would have her get accustomed to the look of him before he made advances.But when he saw her run in the direction of the swamp, knowing what a dangerous place it was, he was terrified, sprung to his feet, and darted off to get between her and the danger.She heard him coming like the wind at her back, and, whether from bewilderment, or that she did intend throwing herself into the water to escape him, instead of pursuing her former design, she made straight for the swamp.But was the beast-boy ubiquitous? As she approached the place, there he was, on the edge of a great hole half full of water, as if he had been sitting there for an hour! Was he going to drown her in that hole? She turned again, and ran towards the descent of the mountain.But there Gibbie feared a certain precipitous spot; and, besides, there was no path in that direction.
So Ginevra had not run far before again she saw him right in her way.She threw herself on the ground in despair, and hid her face.
