A Wrinkle in Time Quintet by Madeleine L'Engle Page B

beauty of the earth. “Did it just come while we’ve been gone?”
    Mrs Which’s voice seemed very tired. “Ttell herr,” she saidto 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 isso 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 dear. We all do. That’s another reason we wanted to prepare you on Uriel. We thought it would be too frighteningfor 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 knowit’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 haveour 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 tosee 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 agonyof 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 tobe 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!”

SIX
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