‘Nno, Mmegg, yyou knnoww thatt itt iss nnott tthee attmosspheeere,’ Mrs Which said. ‘Yyou mmusstt bee brrave.’
‘It’s the Thing!’ Charles Wallace cried. ‘It’s the Dark Thing we saw from the mountain peak on Uriel when we were riding on Mrs Whatsit’s back!’
‘Did it just come?’ Meg asked in agony, unable to take her eyes from the shadow which darkened the beauty of the earth. ‘Did it just come while we’ve been gone?’
Mrs Which’s voice seemed very tired. ‘Ttell herr,’ she said to Mrs Whatsit.
Mrs Whatsit sighed. ‘No, Meg. It hasn’t just come. It has been there for a great many years. That is why your planet is such a troubled one.’
‘But why –’ Calvin started to ask, his voice croaking hoarsely.
Mrs Whatsit raised her hand to silence him. ‘We showed you the Dark Thing on Uriel first – oh, for many reasons. First, because the atmosphere on the mountain peaks there is so clear and thin you could see it for what it is. And we thought it would be easier for you to understand it if you saw it – well, someplace else first, not your own earth.’
‘I hate it!’ Charles Wallace cried passionately. ‘I hate the Dark Thing.’
Mrs Whatsit nodded. ‘Yes, Charles. We all do. That’s another reason we wanted to prepare you on Uriel. We thought it would be too frightening for you to see it first of all about your own, beloved world.’
‘But what is it?’ Calvin demanded. ‘We know that it’s evil, but what is it?’
‘Yyouu hhave ssaidd itt!’ Mrs Which’s voice rang out. ‘Itt iss Eevill. Itt iss thee Ppowers of Ddarrkknesss!’
‘But what’s going to happen?’ Meg’s voice trembled. ‘Oh, please, Mrs Which, tell us what’s going to happen!’
‘Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!’
Something in Mrs Which’s voice made all three of the children stand straighter, throwing back their shoulders with determination, looking at the glimmer that was Mrs Which with pride and confidence.
‘And we’re not alone, you know, children,’ came Mrs Whatsit, the comforter. ‘All through the universe it’s being fought, all through the cosmos, and my, but it’s a grand and exciting battle. I know it’s hard for you to understand about size, how there’s very little difference in the size of the tiniest microbe and the greatest galaxy. You think about that, and maybe it won’t seem strange to you that some of our very best fighters have come right from your own planet, and it’s a little planet, dears, out on the edge of a little galaxy. You can be proud that it’s done so well.’
‘Who have our fighters been?’ Calvin asked.
‘Oh, you must know them, dear,’ Mrs Whatsit said.
Mrs Who’s spectacles shone out at them triumphantly, ‘And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’
‘Jesus!’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Why of course, Jesus!’
‘Of course!’ Mrs Whatsit said. ‘Go on, Charles, love. There were others. All your great artists. They’ve been lights for us to see by.’
‘Leonardo da Vinci?’ Calvin suggested tentatively. ‘And Michelangelo?’
‘And Shakespeare,’ Charles Wallace called out, ‘and Bach! And Pasteur and Madame Curie and Einstein!’
Now Calvin’s voice rang with confidence. ‘And Schweitzer and Gandhi and Buddha and Beethoven and Rembrandt and St Francis!’
‘Now you, Meg,’ Mrs Whatsit ordered.
‘Oh, Euclid, I suppose.’ Meg was in such an agony of impatience that her voice grated irritably. ‘And Copernicus. But what about father? Please, what about father?’
‘Wee aarre ggoingg tto yourr ffatherr,’ Mrs Which said.
‘But where is he?’ Meg went over to Mrs Which and stamped as though she were as young as Charles Wallace.
Mrs Whatsit answered in a voice that was low but quite firm. ‘On a planet that has given in. So you must prepare to be very strong.’
All traces of cheer had left the Happy Medium’s face. She sat holding the great ball, looking down at the shadowed earth, and a slow tear coursed down her cheek. ‘I can’t stand it any longer,’ she sobbed. ‘Watch now, children, watch!’
6. The Happy Medium
AGAIN they focused their eyes on the crystal ball. The earth with its fearful covering of dark shadow swam out of view and they moved rapidly through the Milky Way. And there was the Thing again.
‘Watch!’ the Medium told them.
The Darkness seemed to seethe and writhe. Was this meant to comfort them?
Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then, slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. No fear. Only the stars and the clear darkness of space, quite different from the fearful darkness of the Thing.
‘You see!’ the Medium cried, smiling happily. ‘It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!’
Mrs Whatsit sighed, a sigh so sad that Meg wanted to put her arms round her and comfort her.
‘Tell us exactly what happened, then, please,’ Charles Wallace said in a small voice.
‘It was a star,’ Mrs Whatsit said sadly. ‘A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh, yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.’
Mrs Which spoke again. Her voice sounded tired, and they knew that speaking was a tremendous effort for her.
‘Itt wass nnott sso llongg aggo fforr yyou, wwass itt?’ she asked gently.
Mrs Whatsit shook her head.
Charles Wallace went up to Mrs Whatsit. ‘I see. Now I understand. You were a star, once, weren’t you?’
Mrs Whatsit covered her face with her hands as though she were embarrassed, and nodded.
‘And you did – you did what that star just did?’
With her face still covered, Mrs Whatsit nodded again.
Charles Wallace looked at her, very solemnly. ‘I should like to kiss you.’
Mrs Whatsit took her hands down from her face and pulled Charles Wallace to her in a quick embrace. He put his arms about her neck, pressed his cheek against hers, and then kissed her.
Meg felt that she would have liked to kiss Mrs Whatsit, too, but that after Charles Wallace, anything that she or Calvin did or said would be an anticlimax. She contented herself with looking at Mrs Whatsit. Even though she was used to Mrs Whatsit’s odd getup (and the very oddness of it was what made her seem so comforting), she realized with a fresh shock that it was not Mrs Whatsit herself that she was seeing at all. The complete, the true Mrs Whatsit, Meg realized, was beyond human understanding. What she saw was only the game Mrs Whatsit was playing; it was an amusing and charming game, a game full of both laughter and comfort, but it was only the tiniest facet of all the things Mrs Whatsit could be.
‘I didn’t mean to tell you,’ Mrs Whatsit faltered. ‘I didn’t mean ever to let you know. But, oh, my dears, I did so love being a star!’