Welcome to sleep stories with Steph your go-to podcast.
That offers you a calm and relaxing transition into sleep.
Into a great night's sleep.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Close your eyes.
And feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.
And let all the worries of the day go.
Drift away.
This is your time.
And your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose.
And let it out with a long sigh.
That's it!
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 11 Emily was locked in the spare room and told she must stay there until bedtime.
She had pleaded against such a punishment in vain.
She had tried to give the Murray look,
But it seemed that in her case it did not come at will.
Don't chuck me up here alone,
Aunt Elizabeth,
" she implored.
I know I was naughty,
But don't put me in the spare room.
Aunt Elizabeth was inexorable.
She knew it was a cruel thing to shut an oversensitive child like Emily in that gloomy room,
But she thought she was doing her duty.
She did not realise and would not have for a moment believed she was really wreaking her own smothered resentment with Emily for her defeat and fright on the day of the threatened hair cutting.
Aunt Elizabeth believed she'd been stampeded on that occasion by a chance family resemblance coming out under stress and she was ashamed of it.
Emily looking very small and lost and lonely.
Shrank close against the door of the spare room.
It was better that way.
She could not imagine things behind her then.
And the room was so big and dim that a dreadful number of things could be imagined in it.
The window was hung with heavy dark green material reinforced by drawn slat blinds.
The big canopy bed jutting out from the wall into the middle of the floor was high and rigid and curtained.
Anything might jump at her out of such a bed.
What if some great black hand should suddenly reach out of it,
Reach right across the floor and pluck at her?
The walls,
Like those of the parlour,
Were adorned with pictures of departed relatives.
There was such a large connection of dead Murrays.
The glasses of their frames gave out weird reflections of the spectral threads of light struggling through the slat blinds.
Worst of all,
Right across the room from her,
High up on the top of the black wardrobe,
Was a huge stuffed white arctic owl staring at her with uncanny eyes.
Emily shrieked aloud when she saw it,
And cowards down in her corner had gasped at the sound she'd made in the great silent echoing room.
I wonder what Aunt Elizabeth would feel like if I was found here dead.
She thought vindictively.
Then something happened.
A beam of sunlight struck through a small break in one of the slats of the blind and fell directly athwart the picture of Grandfather Murray hanging over the mantelpiece.
Emily's nerve gave way completely.
In an ungovernable spasm of panic,
She rushed madly across the room to the window,
Dashed the curtains aside and caught up the slack blind.
Blessed flood of sunshine burst in.
Outside was a wholesome,
Friendly,
Human world.
And of all the wonders there,
Leaning right against the windowsill was a ladder.
For a moment,
Emily almost believed a miracle had worked for her escape.
Cousin Jimmy had tripped that morning over the ladder,
Lying lost among the burdocks under the balm of gileads behind the dairy.
In less time than it takes to write of it,
Emily had got the window up,
Climbed out on the sill and backed down the ladder.
She was too intent on escaping from that horrible room to be conscious of the shakiness of the rotten rungs.
When she reached the ground,
She bolted through the Balm of Gileads and down the fence into Lofty John's Bush.
She did not stop running until she reached the path by the brook.
Then she paused for breath,
Exultant.
She had escaped from the spare room and its ghosts and got the better of mean old Aunt Elizabeth.
Feel as if I was a little bird that's just got out of a cage,
She told herself.
She danced with the joy of it all along,
The fairy path to the very end.
There she found Ilse Birney,
Huddled up on the top of a fence panel,
Her pale gold head making a spot of brilliance against the dark young furs that crowded around her.
Emily had not seen her since the first day of school.
Well,
Emily of New Moon,
Said Ilsy,
Where are you running to?
I'm running away,
" said Emily frankly.
I was bad,
At least a little bad,
And Aunt Elizabeth locked me up in the spare room.
But I hadn't been bad enough for that.
You little cuss!
I didn't think you'd gimp enough for that!
" said Elsie.
Emily gasped.
It seemed very dreadful to be called a little cuss,
But Ilse had said it quite admirably.
I don't think it was a gimp,
" said Emily,
Too honest to take a compliment she didn't deserve.
I was too scared to stay in the room.
Where are you going now?
Asked Ilny.
You have to go somewhere.
You can't stay outdoors.
There's a thunderstorm coming.
And so there was.
Emily did not like thunderstorms.
Do you suppose God is bringing up that storm to punish me?
No,
Said Elsie scornfully.
If there's any God,
He wouldn't make such a fuss over anything.
Oh,
Elsie,
Don't you believe there's a God?
I don't know.
Father says there isn't.
But in that case,
How did things happen?
Some days I believe there's a God and some days I don't.
You better come home with me.
There's no one here.
It's so lonesome.
I took to the bush.
Ilse sprang down and held out her sun-burned paw to Emily.
Emily took it and they ran together over Lofty John's pasture to the old Burnley house.
It stood like a huge grey cat,
Basking in the warm late sunshine,
That had not yet been swallowed up by the menacing thunderheads.
Ilse and Emily had a glorious game of hide-and-seek all over the house until the thunder got so heavy and the lightning so bright Emily felt she must huddle on the sofa and nurse her courage.
Aunt Laura would certainly have fainted with horror.
If she had seen the kitchen inside.
Aren't you ever afraid of thunder?
Emily R.
Seals said.
No,
I ain't afraid of anything except the devil,
Said Ilsa.
I thought you didn't believe in the devil either.
Voda said you didn't.
Oh,
There's the devil,
All right.
Father says.
It's only God he doesn't believe in.
And if there is a devil and no God to keep him in order.
.
.
It's any wonder I'm scared of him.
Look,
Here,
Emily Bird's star.
I like you heaps and I've always liked you.
I knew you'd be good and sick of that little white-livered lying sneak of a Roger Stewart before long.
I never tell lies.
Father told me once he'd kill me if he ever saw me telling a lie.
I want you,
Emily,
For my chum.
I'd go to school regular if I could sit with you.
"'All right,
' said Emily offhandedly.
And you'll tell me things?
No one ever tells me things.
And I'll let you tell me and then I'll tell you things too,
Said Ilse.
And you won't be ashamed of me because my clothes are always queer and because I don't believe in God.
No,
Said Emily.
But if you knew Father's God,
You would believe in Him.
No,
I wouldn't.
Besides,
There's only one God,
If there is any at all.
I don't know about that,
" said Emily.
It can't be.
Enly Green's God isn't a bit like Father's and neither is Aunt Elizabeth's.
I don't think I'd like Aunt Elizabeth.
But my God is a dignified God at least,
And Ellen's isn't,
And I'm sure Aunt Laura's is another one still.
Well,
Never mind.
I don't like talking about God,
Said Ilsy,
Uncomfortably.
I do,
Sir Emily.
It's a very interesting subject.
I'll pray for you.
Then you can believe in my Father's God.
For a moment,
Ilse didn't look as if she liked this idea,
And she laughed and gave Emily a volcanic hug.
Anyway,
Please like me.
No one likes me,
You know.
Your father must like you.
He doesn't,
Said Ilse positively.
Father doesn't care a hoot about me.
I think there's times when he hates the sight of me.
I wish he did like me because he can be awful nice when he likes anyone.
Do you know what I'm going to be when I grow up?
An elocutionist.
What's that?
Woman who recites at concerts,
I can do it dandy.
What are you gonna be,
Emily?
A poet.
Oh golly!
I don't believe you can write poetry.
I can too,
Said Emily.
I've written three pieces.
Let's hear it then.
Emily proudly repeated her lines.
Somehow she did not mind Ilse hearing them.
Now you oughtn't to be so good to me because I was bad today,
She continued.
I suppose I disgraced the Murrays going barefoot.
Emily reflected over this until she'd finished the cookie that Aunt Laura gave her when she went back home.
Where do you get such notions?
Aunt Laura asked.
Off the top of my head.
Said Emily.
Anyway,
Ilse Bonny and I are going to be chums.
I spent some time with her today and I've always felt that I would like her if I had the chance.
I don't believe I can ever love any girl again,
But I can like her.
Poor Ilse,
" said Aunt Laura same.
Her father doesn't like her,
Isn't he dreadful?
" said Emily.
Why doesn't he like her?
He does really,
I'm sure,
" said Aunt Laura.
He only thinks he doesn't.
But why does he think that?
You're far too young to understand,
Emily.
Emily Starr hated to be told she was too young to understand.
She felt she could understand perfectly well if only people would take the trouble to explain things to her and not be so mysterious.
I wish I could pray for her.
It wouldn't be fair,
Though,
When I know how she feels about it,
But I've always asked God to bless all my friends,
So she'll be in that,
And maybe some good will come of it.
Is golly a good word to say,
Aunt Laura?
No!
Oh,
I'm sorry for that,
" said Emily seriously.
Because it is,
In fact,
Very striking.
