Not from this world

They found her on the beach, together with an old man. They were both lying face down, not more than three feet apart. ‘’Dead,’’ Alec said.
Seamus kneeled down beside the girl and turned her over. Her eyes were open. They were green, as the fresh bracken in spring. The unusual colour unnerved him. He stretched out his hand to close them when she blinked. Seamus jumped up and cursed.
Together they lifted the old man up and put him on the cart, beside some planks and a fishing net.
‘’The girl can lie on the net,’’ Alec grumbled.
Seamus shook his head.
He lifted the wet bundle carefully. Looking down on the child’s face he said:
‘’You would be more worth to us dead. Now you only cost us.’’

Alec urged the horse in motion. Slowly the cart rolled towards the dunes. Seamus followed with the girl in his arms. At the outskirt of the village Alec turned left towards the grave-yard where the old man was buried the same day, after the constable had written down an elaborate description of his clothes and body. In the absence of papers the tiniest scar or irregularity might help one day to identify the unfortunate man.
Alec grumbled because it took a long time and he had been asked to witness the proceedings. He also resented the unspoken suspicion of the constable that he had lifted valuables from the body before bringing it to the village.
Meanwhile Seamus carried the girl to the nuns. There were three of them, living in the big house where once a burgomaster had resided. That was long ago, in the time of the big ships that gathered on the lee side of the island, before they sailed out over the world, buying or plundering its treasures. The island had prospered in those forgotten ages. Now there were only a handful of sheep farmers and fishermen, eking out a meagre existence.
The nuns washed the girl’s hair and scrubbed her, as if she had not been soaked enough. They asked her questions but no reply came. The girl stared at each one of them in turn, as she had stared at Seamus all the way to the village. ‘’She is not of this world,’’ he had whispered to the nuns. ‘’How can she not be dead.’’
The oldest nun scolded him. ‘’Through God’s mercy.’’

They gave the girl soup which she ate calmly, always keeping her eyes on one of them. Then they put her to bed and sat around her to pray.
The girl lay still, her hands on the cover. Finally she closed her eyes. Sister Clara stayed with her, sister Theresa went back to her kitchen and sister Magdalena sat down to write a thorough though not necessarily correct report to Mother Superior, far away on the mainland.
Sister Magdalena had seen much of the world before she had taken her vow. A girl with no past might face a difficult future. She stated the girl as being eight years old, since the doctor had guessed she would be somewhere between seven and nine; gave her the name of Maria, together with the surname Barnato, which sounded both local and foreign, and boldly stated her date of birth on august 15th.

In the night the girl developed a fever. The nuns prayed, the doctor administered sugar water, as he did to all his patients, and through one or the other, or both, the fever disappeared after three days. When the girl had regained strength the nuns put her to work in the kitchen, since they saw no point in sending her to school, not knowing if she understood their language.
The girl worked well, to the satisfaction of sister Theresa, who soon gave her more elaborate tasks. She never spoke but seemed to pick up new words quickly. She also readily responded to the given name. Three months after her arrival, while she was chopping onions, the girl suddenly said:
‘’Where was I found?’’
‘’God bless you,’’ sister Theresa cried, before hurrying to the others.
Next day the three nuns and the girl, whom nobody but the nuns, Alec, Seamus and the doctor had set eyes on, were seen walking to the graveyard. They stopped at a grave, marked with a simple wooden cross. It wore the date when he was found on the beach.
‘’This is where your grandfather is buried,’’ sister Magdalene said. ,,Give us his name and we will put it on the cross.’’
The girl kneeled down and put her hand on the still soft ground.
‘’He rests in peace,’’ sister Theresa said, finding the need to comfort the girl. ‘’Let us thank our Lord that he delivered this body to be buried in holy ground.’’
The girl stood up, brushing the dirt from her hands.
‘’He is no longer here,’’ she said. ‘’I am alone.’’
‘’Poor child,’’ sister Theresa mumbled. ‘’He is in the Kingdom of heaven. Be assured of that.’’
‘’Come,’’ sister Magdalena said firmly. They set course to the beach, soon followed by a growing string of villagers.
At the beach a problem presented itself. The nuns did not know the spot. Sister Magdalena hesitated a moment, hovering between adding a new lie to the girls life, or enlisting help.
She turned to face the small crowd behind them. He was there.
‘’Seamus,’’ she ordered.
Seamus came forward. He did not want to look at the girl, but there eyes met.
‘’You found me,’’ she said.
He nodded, staring at the sand between them.
‘’Where?’’
Seamus looked at sister Magdalene, who nodded. He walked without hesitation to a spot seventy feet to the left. The girl and sister Magdalene followed him, the other nuns and villagers kept a respectful distance. Even Alec, who felt he had a right to be there in the front too.
‘’Here,’’ Seamus indicated. ‘’Your grandfather was here, just beside you.’’
The girl walked around the place in a circle, then nodded.
‘’I remember. It was cold. Wet. I knew he was dead and that I could never go back.’’
Sister Magdalena struck the iron while hot.
‘’Go back where, dear?’’
‘’Far away.’’
Sister Magdalena motioned Seamus to retreat. Then she said: ‘’Tell me. I can keep a secret if that is necessary.’’
‘’O yes,’’ the girl said. ‘’But I need more words. When I know them all, I will tell you.’’

Maria never went to the village school. Sister Clara taught her geography, mathematics, history, several languages and science. Sister Theresa taught her everything she knew about cooking, needlework and other household duties, sister Magdalena talked with the girl about ethics, religion and poetry. Maria soaked up all the knowledge that was presented to her and added more through mining the nun’s library.
Yet, when sister Magdalena died at a very respectable old age, she still had not find the words to tell about her past.
With sister Magdalena the nuns hope died that Maria would one day fill their ranks. She confided to sister Theresa that she would not follow that particular path. According to sister Magdalena’s time scale, Maria was now eighteen years of age. Sister Theresa advised her to leave the island.
‘’There is nothing for you here. Fishermen and farmers. Decent folk, most of the time. There are twelve lads looking for a wife, who would fight each other to have you. Though they will give their lives to make you happy, they will make you miserable. You know too much for them, yet you know nothing about life.’’
‘’It would be cruel to marry any of them,’’ Maria said. ‘’They need children.’’
‘’The way you say things makes me shiver sometimes. I wonder where you come from. You must remember something.’’
‘’Of course I do.’’
‘’I love you, dear. You know I do. Won’t you tell me anything? Was it that bad that you want to forget it?’’
Maria smiled.
‘’It was not bad. I wish I could go back to where I belong.’’
‘’Why can’t you? Can you tell me at least that? O, I know you will not. How can I expect you will tell me your secret when you did not even tell sister Magdalena when she asked you on her deathbed.’’
Maria put her fingers on the old hands of the nun.
‘’I wish I had the words to tell you.’’
‘’Words. You who are so clever wouldn’t know the words? You have taught yourself more than we could teach you, and you can’t find the words? Sometimes I think you are a princess in exile.’’
Maria smiled.
‘’If I was, I would not tell anyone, especially not someone that I love, because I would put them in the same danger as myself, when my pursuers, supposing I was a princess in exile, would find me.’’
‘’Don’t say anything else,’’ sister Theresa whispered. ‘’Your secret is safe with me. I will never ask you again.’’

Another year passed. Sister Theresa died in the happy knowledge that Maria was making arrangements to take on a job as governess on the mainland. The night after the funeral Maria looked out of her window. A sudden bright light in the dark sky attracted her attention. Sister Clara entered her room.
‘’Did you see that falling star? It was unusually bright and visible for a long time.’’
‘’I did.’’
Sister Clara gave her a close look.
‘’Are you alright? You look ill.’’
‘’I am fine. It is leaving here that makes me sad. You have all been so good to me.’’
‘’We did our duty.’’
‘’You did far more than that. Now I will have to go and find my own way in the world. Thanks to you I am prepared for that.’’
She put her arm around the nun.
‘’You will find me gone in the morning. I can’t wait any longer.’’
‘’But how…’’
‘’It is all arranged. Don’t worry about me. And if you don’t hear from me, don’t find me ungrateful. I will always love you and never forget what you have done for me.’’
‘’Don’t fuss yourself. Why should you remember an old nun. Be happy. That is all I ask.’’

Seamus was surprised to find a dark shadow approaching his hut in the dunes. The unusual bright light had woken him. Finding it difficult to get to sleep again, he sat in front of the hut, smoking a pipe.
‘’Who’s that.’’
‘’It’s me.’’
‘’You.’’
‘’You helped me once. Will you help me again?’’
A grunt.
‘’It is dangerous.’’
Another grunt.
‘”Will you set me over.’’
‘’It’s a long way. My boat is small, the current strong.’’
‘’But will you do it.’’
‘’Aye.’’
Together they carried the boat across the beach. When he pushed it afloat, Maria holding the roars, he said, just before jumping in:
‘’I told them you were not from this world.’’