She had a little room of her own; and I had watched her to bed,
and now kept her awake by gambolling in the rays of the night-light.
When her eyes were once fixed upon me, I took the shape of her
grandfather, representing him on the wall, as he sat in his chair, with
his head bent down, and his arms hanging listlessly by his sides. And
the child remembered that that was just as she had seen him last; for
she had happened to peep in at the dining-room door, after all the rest
had gone up stairs. "What if he should be sitting there still," thought
she, "all alone in the dark!" She scrambled out of bed and crept down.
"'Meantime the others had made the room below so dark, that only the
face and white hair of the old man could be dimly discerned in the
shadowy crowd. For he had filled his own mind with shadows, which we
Shadows wanted to draw out of him. Those shadows are very different from
us, your majesty knows. He was thinking of all the disappointments he
had had in life, and of all the ingratitude he had met with. He thought
far more of the good he had done, than the good others had got. "After
all I have done for them," said he, with a sigh of bitterness, "not one
of them cares a straw for me. My own children will be glad when I am
gone!" At that instant he lifted up his eyes and saw, standing close by
the door, a tiny figure in a long night-gown.
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