Free The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson Page B

rest of the world. Eleanor turned and followed the veranda; it went, apparently, all around the house. “Oh, look,” she said, turning the corner.
    Behind the house the hills were piled in great pressing masses, flooded with summer green now, rich, and still.
    “It’s why they called it Hill House,” Eleanor said inadequately.
    “It’s altogether Victorian,” Theodora said. “They simply wallowed in this kind of great billowing overdone sort of thing and buried themselves in folds of velvet and tassels and purple plush. Anyone before them or after would have put this house right up there on top of those hills where it belongs, instead of snuggling it down here.”
    “If it were on top of the hill everyone could see it. I vote for keeping it well hidden where it is.”
    “All the time I’m here I’m going to be terrified,” Theodora said, “thinking one of those hills will fall on us.”
    “They don’t fall on you. They just slide down, silently and secretly, rolling over you while you try to run away.”
    “Thank you,” Theodora said in a small voice. “What Mrs. Dudley has started you have completed nicely. I shall pack and go home at once.”
    Believing her for a minute, Eleanor turned and stared, and then saw the amusement on her face and thought, She’s much braver than I am. Unexpectedly—although it was later to become a familiar note, a recognizable attribute of what was to mean “Theodora” in Eleanor’s mind—Theodora caught at Eleanor’s thought, and answered her. “Don’t be so afraid all the time,” she said and reached out to touch Eleanor’s cheek with one finger. “We never know where our courage is coming from.” Then, quickly, she ran down the steps and out onto the lawn between the tall grouped trees. “Hurry,” she called back, “I want to see if there’s a brook somewhere.”
    “We can’t go too far,” Eleanor said, following. Like two children they ran across the grass, both welcoming the sudden openness of clear spaces after even a little time in Hill House, their feet grateful for the grass after the solid floors; with an instinct almost animal, they followed the sound and smell of water. “Over here,” Theodora said, “a little path.”
    It led them tantalizingly closer to the sound of the water, doubling back and forth through the trees, giving them occasional glimpses down the hill to the driveway, leading them around out of sight of the house across a rocky meadow, and always downhill. As they came away from the house and out of the trees to places where the sunlight could still find them Eleanor was easier, although she could see that the sun was dropping disturbingly closer to the heaped hills. She called to Theodora, but Theodora only called back, “Follow, follow,” and ran down the path. Suddenly she stopped, breathless and tottering, on the very edge of the brook, which had leaped up before her almost without warning; Eleanor, coming more slowly behind, caught at her hand and held her back and then, laughing, they fell together against the bank which sloped sharply down to the brook.
    “They like to surprise you around here,” Theodora said, gasping.
    “Serve you right if you went diving in,” Eleanor said. “Running like that.”
    “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” The water of the brook moved quickly in little lighted ripples; on the other side the grass grew down to the edge of the water and yellow and blue flowers leaned their heads over; there was a rounded soft hill there, and perhaps more meadow beyond, and, far away, the great hills, still catching the light of the sun. “It’s pretty,” Theodora said with finality.
    “I’m sure I’ve been here before,” Eleanor said. “In a book of fairy tales, perhaps.”
    “I’m sure of it. Can you skip rocks?”
    “This is where the princess comes to meet the magic golden fish who is really a prince in disguise—”
    “He couldn’t draw much water, that golden fish of yours; it can’t be