And suddenly it was good daylight and the December sun shone. The fog has passed away like a dream.
The Amulet was there—little and complete in Jane’s hand, and there were the other children and the Psammead, and the learned gentleman. But Rekh-marā—or the body of Rekh-marā—was not there any more. As for his soul …
“Oh, the horrid thing!” cried Robert, and put his foot on a centipede as long as your finger, that crawled and wriggled and squirmed at the learned gentleman’s feet.
“That,” said the Psammead, “was the evil in the soul of Rekh-marā.”
There was a deep silence.
“Then Rekh-marā’s him now?” said Jane at last.
“All that was good in Rekh-marā,” said the Psammead.
“He ought to have his heart’s desire, too,” said Anthea, in a sort of stubborn gentleness.
“His heart’s desire,” said the Psammead, “is the perfect Amulet you hold in your hand. Yes—and has been ever since he first saw the broken half of it.”
“We’ve got ours,” said Anthea softly.
“Yes,” said the Psammead—its voice was crosser than they had ever heard it—“your parents are coming home. And what’s to become of me? I shall be found out, and made a show of, and degraded in every possible way. I know they’ll make me go into Parliament—hateful place—all mud and no sand. That beautiful Baalbec temple in the desert! Plenty of good sand there, and no politics! I wish I were there, safe in the Past—that I do.”
“I wish you were,” said the learned gentleman absently, yet polite as ever.
The Psammead swelled itself up, turned its long snail’s eyes in one last lingering look at Anthea—a loving look, she always said, and thought—and—vanished.
“Well,” said Anthea, after a silence, “I suppose it’s happy. The only thing it ever did really care for was sand.”
“My dear children,” said the learned gentleman, “I must have fallen asleep. I’ve had the most extraordinary dream.”
“I hope it was a nice one,” said Cyril with courtesy.
“Yes. … I feel a new man after it. Absolutely a new man.”
There was a ring at the front-door bell. The opening of a door. Voices.
“It’s them!” cried Robert, and a thrill ran through four hearts.
“Here!” cried Anthea, snatching the Amulet from Jane and pressing it into the hand of the learned gentleman. “Here—it’s yours—your very own—a present from us, because you’re Rekh-marā as well as … I mean, because you’re such a dear.”
She hugged him briefly but fervently, and the four swept down the stairs to the hall, where a cabman was bringing in boxes, and where, heavily disguised in travelling cloaks and wraps, was their hearts’ desire—threefold—Mother, Father, and The Lamb.
“Bless me!” said the learned gentleman, left alone, “bless me! What a treasure! The dear children! It must be their affection that has given me these luminous aperçus. I seem to see so many things now—things I never saw before! The dear children! The dear, dear children!”
Colophon
The Story of the Amulet
was published in 1906 by
E. Nesbit.
This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
François Grandjean,
and is based on a transcription produced in 1997 by
Jo Churcher and David Widger
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans available at
Google Books.
The cover page is adapted from
The Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon,
a painting completed in 1890 by
Edward John Poynter.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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