Curdie did look, and saw, high in the air, somewhere about the top of the king’s house, a great globe of light shining like the purest silver.
“Oh!” he cried in some consternation, “that is your grandmother’s lamp! We must get her out. I will go an find her. The house may fall, you know.”
“My grandmother is in no danger,” said Irene, smiling.
“Here, Curdie, take the princess while I get on my horse,” said the king.
Curdie took the princess again, and both turned their eyes to the globe of light. The same moment there shot from it a white bird, which, descending with outstretched wings, made one circle round the king an Curdie and the princess, and then glided up again. The light and the pigeon vanished together.
“Now, Curdie!” said the princess, as he lifted her to her father’s arms, “you see my grandmother knows all about it, and isn’t frightened. I believe she could walk through that water and it wouldn’t wet her a bit.”
“But, my child,” said the king, “you will be cold if you haven’t something more on. Run, Curdie, my boy, and fetch anything you can lay your hands on, to keep the princess warm. We have a long ride before us.”
Curdie was gone in a moment, and soon returned with a great rich fur, and the news that dead goblins were tossing about in the current through the house. They had been caught in their own snare; instead of the mine they had flooded their own country, whence they were now swept up drowned. Irene shuddered, but the king held her close to his bosom. Then he turned to Sir Walter, and said:
“Bring Curdie’s father and mother here.”