PERHAPS you may wonder, after what befell Louie in the last chapter, that there ever could be again a sunny side of the road for her until she got into the place where light is unclouded; but a sunny spot is not the land of sunshine. If you were going along a lane bordered by high banks and hedges, one bank might be in the shade, and it would look dull and gloomy, and the half of the road on that side would look dark; perhaps, as you walked along this shady side, you might see something which attracted you to the other side—a pale primrose or bright scarlet strawberry—you might cross the road, and immediately you would be in the warmth and brightness of the unshadowed bank, and in the brighter light you might find many a flower and berry to keep you on the sunny side. But I will tell you what would be going on all the time behind you; the shadows you had left would come creeping, creeping after you, and if you stayed long enough among the flowers you would scarcely notice the darkening of the sunny bank until night had stolen upon you, and left you in darkness, without a ray of sunlight to brighten either side of the road.
So with Louie: she was still in the same road of clouds and shadows, and the shadows were getting longer, as shadows will; but about this time something happened which drew her across to the sunny side of the road, that is, which occupied her with a great many new thoughts that, like the bright flowers and berries on a sunny bank, kept her mind away from clouds and their shadows.
They were all going away to a new home, so a great deal of packing and bustle of all kinds was going on in Marine Villa; in the nursery the great wardrobe had to be emptied of its contents, and the ottoman, in its turn, had to be filled with almost more than it could hold. The camel, elephant and buffalo who, with all their noise, could not be trusted to get through a journey by themselves (for you know it is not always those who make the most noise who get through the most work), had to be packed into a box, which must have been a strange experience for such important animals. At last the great Indian rug had to be rolled up and stowed away; and even from the dining-room those grave piles of slates and books which, morning by morning, had lain immovably in their places, as if to make known that nothing less than the accustomed amount of attention would satisfy them, at last even these dignities had, like the camel and his companions, to be packed away, and so, in due time, all was ready.
Louie had some very special business to attend to before she could be ready; for besides those animals who, though they of course did not expect such treatment, could be packed into a box, Louie possessed a real, live animal which required no wheels, for it could move fast enough upon its own legs, but which, nevertheless, could not perform the journey upon those same legs, and which yet could not be packed away in a box. Still less could Pussy be left behind! for in Louie's eyes there was no Pussy like her: she had been brought as a present by a kind friend from France; this added to her value. Besides this she was a very pretty creature, being perfectly white; from the tip of her little pinky ears to the very end of her tail, every single hair of Pussy's coat was snowy white; besides her pretty coat Pussy had what was of far more value, an affectionate disposition and plenty of intelligence, and if she had been left behind to a new mistress she would soon have discovered the change, and would have been very unhappy indeed. But, as became so traveled a Pussy, who had already crossed the sea from France to England, she possessed a traveling apartment; this was a high basket having a convenient little door, just large enough for her to step in and out of; and also, in order that she might have plenty of air and might not feel dull, on each side of the basket was a little window.
Pussy, who had not enjoyed the packing-time as the children had, and who, intelligent though she was, could not look at a map to see where she was going, was not so pleased as the children were when the day for starting at last arrived, but, as you know, even cats, in a well-ordered family, cannot have their own way. Pussy, though much against her will, had in due time to be caught and securely fastened into her traveling apartment; there she might mew piteously, but Louie could not let her out, for she knew that, in the end, it would be much better for Pussy to be kept in the basket (and thus take the journey and find a new home with her old friends) than to be let have the freedom she wished for and then, when too late, find that, through her own ignorance and self-will (which, as she was but a poor pussy, she could not help) she had been left behind.
Even on the sunny bank the children found a few shadows, for, as the time of departure really drew near, it was quite sad work to say “good-bye" to many friends, to take a last walk through the pleasant village and a last rim in the wood, and to pick up a few last shells from the river's edge. But it had all to be gone on with until at last the morning came, when not only Pussy but Louie, and all the children as well as the boxes, had to be stowed away wherever Mamma thought best, in and on the carriage, and then they drove away, up the hill and past the wood and down to the river's edge. Then they had to walk along a little rough pier and then, after some difficulties with slippery steps and planks and ladders, which the grown up people thought very inconvenient, but which the children thought charming, they were all settled upon the deck of a steamboat, or at least as settled as any of them could feel in such new circumstances. For the boat began to tremble while the funnel puffed, and away they went, not across the river to the blue hills, but down the river, which grew wider and wider until, at last, its second bank entirely deserted it and turned it into a channel which, to Louie's eyes, looked as great and as wide as her largest ideas of the Pacific Ocean; however it was not that or any other ocean, and before night, when steamboat and coach had done their part, the children found themselves at their new home. This too was a pleasant house, and had, like Marine Villa, a green slope in front, but the sea was quite close beyond that, only on the other side of the road, and there were no blue hills for Louie to dream about; besides, I think she had grown old enough by this time to find out that the Welsh hills had only looked blue in the distance, and were in reality as green as any other hills, when you were near them.
The children found most of their pleasure outside the house; perhaps one reason for this was that there was no nursery as at Marine Villa; instead of this there was a school-room, which was no doubt in every respect a superior apartment, but I doubt whether the children found the same attraction in its carpeted floor and neat, well-filled bookshelves and quiet look-out over a little back garden, as in the sounding boards and convenient space of their former nursery. But though without the nursery, they had plenty of places where they found much enjoyment; beyond the little garden which the schoolroom window overlooked, they had one which was quite their own; on them depended the sowing, the watering, and the weeding of this little bit of ground, and I hope, considering the amount of time which the children spent there, and the energy and attention which they bestowed on the work, that it was a credit to the young gardeners.
The children's gardens opened into a field, and here they might, when tired of the hard work which the six small beds and the little paths required, run and play as much as they liked. I think the camel and buffalo were rather forgotten at this time, for they could not be brought beyond the house, and a new occupation arose which appeared to be more interesting and important, as well as more suited to field play, though whether quite suited to a little girl like Louie, I can hardly say.
A brother, coming from school for his holidays, had brought with him a pair of stilts, which was so novel a plaything that it threw hoops and balls and such things quite into the shade; Louie was very pleased whenever her turn came to mount the stilts, and, when perched upon them, would remember all she had heard or read about the Landes, those flat plains in the southwest corner of France, which are so very marshy that the shepherds who tend flocks there can only traverse them by means of stilts; Louie could almost fancy herself one of these French shepherds, but generally, before she had taken many steps, her dreams were put an end to by a tumble. I suppose the stilts were low and the grass soft, or perhaps the children took care to hold on with one hand to the garden fence, for though they had many tumbles they never broke any bones; though I do not think that, with all the practicing, any of them, except George, who was the rightful owner of the stilts, ever grew expert enough to attempt crossing the field, far less to fulfill any dreams of excursions with sheep across the distant Landes.
Besides the field, there was another very delightful place not far from the house; this was a great common covered with sandy hillocks, and in which grew nothing but rushes; these hillocks were so conveniently arranged, into circles and semicircles, that it was the easiest thing in the world to turn either of them into a beautiful drawing-room with soft sofas and comfortable armchairs, all made of sand. Thus there was much, as you see, to engage Louie's mind; many new scenes, new duties, and new pleasures, but, in the midst of it all, she yet found that she had the same heart, with its mistakes and its troubles, and the same clouds with their shadows; and this was a very sad discovery.