John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Narcissus

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia
Granny looked down at Esk's silent form. The girl was light enough, but it was a the afternoon was dwindling.
"Drat," she said, with no particular emphasis. She stood up, brushed herself down and, with a grunt of effort, hauled Esk's inert body over her shoulder.
High in the crystal sunset air above the mountains the eagle Esk sought more height, drunk with the sheer vitality of flight.
On the candle had long burned down and Esk was still sleeping the shallow, unwakable sleep of the Borrower.
When she took the goats out to their paddock she looked intently at the sky.
Noon came, and gradually the light drained out of another day. She paced the floor of the kitchen the way a hungry bear. Granny's back was giving her gyp, and she was in no mood to be growled at. She muttered a few words under her breath and the bear, to its brief amazement, walked heavily into a tree and didn't regain consciousness for several hours. When she reached the cottage Granny put Esk's body to bed and drew up the fire. She brought the goats in and milked them, and finished the chores of the evening. She made sure all the windows were open and, when it began to grow dark, lit a lantern and put it on the windowsill. Granny Weatherwax didn't sleep more than a few hours a night, as a rule, and woke again at midnight. The room hadn't changed, although the lantern had its own little solar system of very stupid moths. When she woke again at dawn