The Children of the Castle

by Mrs. Molesworth

laughed a little--I never heardanything so pretty as her laugh. `No,' she replied, `but I have seenyou and every one that has ever been here, though every one has not seenme. Now listen, my child. I wanted you to see me because I havesomething to say to you. There will come a time when you will be drawntwo ways, one will be back here to the old castle by the sea, after manyyears; many, many years as you count things. Choose that way, for youwill be wanted here. Those yet unborn will want you, for they will wantlove and care. Look into my eyes, little girl, and promise me you willcome to them.' And in my dream I thought I gazed again into her eyes,and I felt as if their blue light was the light of a faith and truththat could not be broken, and I said, `I promise.' And then the fairylady seemed to draw a gauze veil over her face, and it grew dim, and thewonderful eyes were hidden, and I thought I fell asleep. In reality, Isuppose, I had never been awake."

  "And when you did wake up it was morning, I suppose, and it had all beena dream?" asked Ruby.

  Miss Hortensia gave a little sigh.

  "Yes," she said, "I suppose it had been a dream. It was morning, brightmorning, the sun streaming in at the other window when I awoke, and Inever saw the fairy lady again--not even in a dream. But what she hadsaid came true, my dears. Many, many years after, when I was alreadybeginning to be an old woman, it came true. I am afraid I had grownselfish--life had brought me many anxieties, and I had lived in a greatcity where there was much luxury and gaiety, and where no one seemed tohave thought for anything but the rush of pleasure and worldly cares. Ihad forgotten all about my beautiful vision, when one day there came asummons. Your sweet young mother had died, my darlings, and your poorfather in his desolation could think of no one better to come and takecare of his little girls--you were only two years old--than his oldcousin. And so I came; and then there crept back to me the remembranceof my dream. I had indeed been drawn two ways, for the friends I mighthave gone to live with were rich and good-natured, and they promised meeverything I could wish. But I thought of the two little motherlessones, here in the old castle by the sea, in want of love and care as_she_ had said, and I came."

  Miss Hortensia stopped. Even Ruby was impressed by what she had heard.

  "Dear cousin," she said, "it was very good of you."

  "And have you never seen the beautiful lady again?" said Mavis. "Shetold you the west turret was her own room, didn't she? Have you neverseen her there?"

  Miss Hortensia shook her head.

  "You forget, dear, it was only a dream. And even if it had been morethan that, we grow very far away from angels and fairies as we get old,I fear."

  "Not _you_," Mavis said; "you're not like that. And the lady must havebeen so pleased with you for caring for us, I wonder she hasn't evercome to see you again. Do you know," she went on eagerly, after amoment's pause, "I have a feeling that she _is_ in the west turret-roomsometimes!"

  Miss Hortensia looked at the child in amazement Mavis's quiet, ratherdull face seemed transformed; it was all flushed and beaming, her eyessparkling and bright.

  "Mavis!" she said, "you look as if you had seen her yourself. But itwas only a dream, you mustn't let my old-world stories make youfanciful. I am too fanciful myself perhaps--I have always loved thevest turret, and that was why I chose it for your play-room when youwere little dots."

  "I'm so glad you did," said Mavis, drawing a long breath.

  After that they were all rather silent for a while. Then Ruby claimedMiss Hortensia's promise of the story or description rather of the grandcourt ball at which her mother's beauty had made such a sensation, andwhen that was ended, the little trumpeter announced, much to thechildren's displeasure, that it was time to go to bed.

  "We _have_ had a cosy evening," said Mavis, as she kissed MissHortensia.

  "And, oh Ruby," she said, as her sister and she were going slowlyupstairs, "_don't_ you wish we might sleep in the turret-room?"

  "No indeed," Ruby replied, in a most decided tone, "I certainly don't."

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  A BOY AND A BOAT.

  "Are little boats alive? And can they plan and feel?"

  "A."

  "If you please, there's a boy at the kitchen-door asking for the youngladies," said the young maid-servant Ulrica, who generally waited onRuby and Mavis.

  They were just finishing their morning lessons with Miss Hortensia, andMavis was putting away the books, a task which usually fell to hershare.

  Miss Hortensia gave a little start.

  "A boy," she exclaimed, "what kind of a boy? It can't be--oh no ofcourse not. How foolish I am. At the kitchen-door, did you say,Ulrica? Who is it?"

  "Oh, I know!" cried Ruby, jumping up with a clatter, delighted to avoidfinding out the mistake in a sum which Miss Hortensia had told her shemust correct. "It's Winfried; I'm sure it is. He's come for some soupor something. I told him he might, but I do think it's rather greedy tohave come the very next day. Mayn't I go and speak to him, cousin?"

  "Well, yes, I suppose so. No, I think it would be better for him tocome in here. Show the boy in here, Ulrica--at least--ask him if he isold Adam's grandson."

  In a minute or two the door was again opened.

  "If you please, ma'am," said Ulrica's voice as before, "it's--it's theboy."

  "The boy" walked in; he held his cap in his hand, and made a sort ofgraceful though simple obeisance to the ladies. He did not seem theleast shy, yet neither was there a touch of boldness about him. On hisface was the slight but pleasant smile that had more than once lightedit up the day before, and his eyes, as he stood there full in the brightgleam of the window--for it was a clear and sunny day--were _very_ blue.

  Ruby came forward.

  "Oh, it's you, is it?" she said, with the half-patronising good humourusual to her when not put out. "I thought it was. It's Winfried,cousin Hortensia; the boy I told you of. I suppose you've come for somesoup for your grandfather."

  Winfried smiled, a little more than before. Mavis crept forward; shewished she could have said something, but she was afraid of vexing Ruby.

  "No, miss," said Winfried, "I did not come for that, though grandfathersaid it was very kind of you, and some day perhaps--" he stopped short.

  "I came to bring you this which I found on the rocks down below ourcottage;" and he held out a little silver cross. Ruby started, and puther hand up to her neck.

  "Oh dear," she said, "I never knew I had lost it. Are you sure it isn'tyours, Mavis? I've got my cord on."

  "Yes, but the cross must have dropped off," said Mavis. "I have mineall right."

  And so it proved. Both little sisters wore these crosses, which wereexactly alike. Ruby took hers from Winfried, and began examining it tosee how it had got loose. Miss Hortensia came forward.

  "It was very good of you to bring the little cross," she said kindly;for something about the boy attracted her very much. "Ruby, my dear,"she went on half reprovingly. Ruby started and looked up. "I am sureyou are very much obliged?"

  "Oh yes, of course I am," said the little girl carelessly. "Itcertainly was very sharp of you to find it," she added with moreinterest.

  "I can generally find things," said Winfried quietly.

  "Is there anything we can do for your grandfather?" asked MissHortensia. "I am sorry to hear he's so ill."

  The boy shook his head; a sad look passed across his bright face.

  "Yes," he said, "he's pretty bad sometimes. But some days he's muchbetter. He's better to-day. There's one thing he would like," he wenton, "he told me to ask you if some day the young ladies might come tosee him; he said I might ask--"

  Ruby interrupted--

  "Why, how funny you are," she said; "that was just what we wantedyesterday, and you wouldn't let us go near the cottage. You said we'dstartle him."

  "He was very tired yesterday," said Winfried; "and you see he wasn'tlooking for you."

  "He was chattering and laughing all the same--or somebody was," saidRuby. "We heard them--don't y
ou remember?"

  Winfried did not speak. But he did not seem vexed.

  "I believe it was the mermaids after all," Ruby went on. "CousinHortensia, if you let us go there the mermaids will steal us."

  "No, indeed," exclaimed Winfried eagerly.

  Miss Hortensia smiled at him.

  "I am not afraid," she said. "Tell your grandfather the young ladiesshall certainly go to see him some day soon."

  "To-morrow," said Mavis, speaking almost for the first time. "Oh, dosay we may go to-morrow--it's our half-holiday."

  "Very well," said Miss Hortensia. "Are you sure you can find your way?I can send Ulrica with you."

  "Mayn't I come to fetch the young ladies?" asked Winfried. "I know allthe short cuts."

  "I should think you did," laughed Ruby. "We told cousin Hortensia allabout that queer path through the rocks. _She'd_ never seen it either."

  "I'll take you quite as nice a way to-morrow," said the boy composedly."May I go now, please?" he added, turning to Miss Hortensia."Grandfather may be wanting me, and thank you very much;" and in anothermoment he was gone.

  Miss Hortensia was quite silent for a minute or two after he had leftthe room.

  "Cousin," began Ruby; but her cousin did not seem to hear. "_Cousin_,"repeated the child impatiently.

  Miss Hortensia looked up as if awakened from a brown study.

  "Did you speak, my dear?" she said.

  "Yes, of course I did. I want you to say something about that queerboy. I suppose you think him very nice, or you wouldn't let Mavis andme go to his cottage. You're generally so frightened about us."

  "I do think he is a very nice boy," said Miss Hortensia. "I am sure heis quite trustworthy."

  "_I_ believe he's a bit of a fairy, and I'm sure his old grandfather's awizard," murmured Ruby. "And I quite expect, as I said to Joan, that weshall be turned into sea-gulls or frogs if we go there."

  "I shouldn't mind being a sea-gull," said Mavis. "Not for a littlewhile at least. Would you, cousin Hortensia?"

  But Miss Hortensia had not been listening to their chatter.

  "My dears," she said suddenly, "I will tell you one reason why I shouldbe glad for you sometimes to have Winfried as a companion if he is asgood and manly as he seems. I have had a letter from your father,telling me of a new guest we are to expect. It is a cousin of yours--alittle nephew of your father's--your aunt Margaret's son. He is an onlychild, and, your father fears, a good deal spoilt. He is coming herebecause his father is away at sea and his mother is ill and must be keptquiet, and Bertrand, it seems, is very noisy."

  "Bertrand," repeated Ruby, "oh, I remember about him. I remember fathertelling us about him--he is a horrid boy, I know."

  "Your father did not call him a horrid boy, I'm sure," said MissHortensia.

  "No," said Mavis, "he only said he was spoilt. And he said he was apretty little boy, and nice in some ways."

  "Well, we must do our best to make him nicer," said Miss Hortensia;"though I confess I feel a little uneasy--you have never been accustomedto rough bearish ways. And if Winfried can be with you sometimes hemight help you with Bertrand."

  "When is he coming?" asked Ruby.

  "Very soon, but I do not know the exact day. Now run off, my dears;there is time for you to have half an hour's play in the garden beforedinner."

  It was curious that of the two little girls Mavis seemed the more todislike the idea of the expected guest.

  "Ruby," she said rather dolefully, "I do wish Bertrand weren't coming.He'll spoil everything, and we shan't know what to do with him."

  "There's not much to spoil that I see," said Ruby.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, our nice quiet ways. Cousin Hortensia telling us stories and allthat," said Mavis. "And I'm sure Winfried won't want to have to lookafter a rough, rude little boy. It's quite different with _us_--Winfried likes us because we're--ladies, you know, and gentle and niceto him."

  Ruby laughed.

  "How you go on about Winfried--Winfried!" she said mockingly. "I thinkit's a very good thing Bertrand is coming to put him down a bit--acommon fisher-boy! I wonder at cousin Hortensia. I'm sure if fatherknew he wouldn't be at all pleased, but _I'm_ not going to tell him. Imean to have some fun with Master Winfried before I have done with him,and I expect Bertrand will help me."

  "Ruby!" exclaimed Mavis, looking startled, "you don't mean that you aregoing to play him any tricks?" Ruby only laughed again, more mockinglythan before.

  "I'd like to lock him up in the haunted room in the west turret onenight," she said. "I do hope he'd get a good fright."

  Mavis seemed to have recovered from her alarm.

  "I don't believe he'd mind the least scrap," she said; "that shows youdon't understand him one bit. He'd like it; besides, you say yourselfyou think he's a fairy boy, so why should he be afraid of fairies?"

  "Nobody's afraid of _fairies_, you silly girl. But if cousin Hortensiasaw anything in the turret--and I don't believe she did,--it wasn't afairy, it was quite different--more a sort of witch, I suppose."

  "You're always talking of witches and wizards," retorted Mavis, whoseemed to be picking up a spirit which rather astonished Ruby. "_I_like thinking of nicer things--angels and--oh Ruby!" she suddenly brokeoff, "do look here--oh, how lovely!" and stooping down she pointed to athick cluster of turquoise blossoms, almost hidden in a corner beneaththe shrubs. "_Aren't_ they darlings? Really it's enough to make onebelieve in fairies or kind spirits of some kind--to find forget-me-notslike these in November!" and she looked up at her sister with delightdancing in her eyes.

  Even Ruby looked surprised.

  "They are beauties," she said; "and I'm almost sure they weren't thereyesterday. Didn't we come round by here, Mavis?"

  "Not till it was nearly dark. We ran in this way, you know, after wecame out of Winfried's path," said Mavis.

  "Oh, yes, I remember," Ruby replied, and a half dreamy look stole overher face.

  They were standing on the lower terrace. This side of the castle, as Ihave said, was much more sheltered and protected than the other, butstill already in November it was bleak and bare. The evergreen shrubshad begun to look self-satisfied and important, as I think they alwaysdo in late autumn, when their fragile companions of the summer areshivering together in forlorn misery, or sinking slowly and sadly, leafby leaf, brown and shrivelled, into the parent bosom of Mother Earth,always ready to receive and hide her poor children in their day ofdesolation. Nay, more, far more than that does she for them in her darkbut loving embrace; not a leaf, not a tiniest twig is lost or mislaid--all, everything, is cared for and restored again, at the sun's warm kissto creep forth in ever fresh and renewed life and beauty. For all wesee, children dear, is but a type, faint and shadowy, of the real thingsthat _are_.

  Then a strange sort of irritation came over Ruby. The soft wonderingexpression so new to her disappeared, and she turned sharply to Mavis.

  "Rubbish!" she said. "Of course they were there yesterday. But theyshan't be there to-morrow--here goes;" and she bent down to pick thelittle flowers.

  Mavis stopped her with a cry.

  "Don't gather them, Ruby," she said. "Poor little things, they mightstay in their corner in peace, and we could come and look at them everyday. They'd wither so soon in the house."

  Ruby laughed. She was much more careless than actually unkind, at leastwhen kindness cost her little.

  "_What_ a baby you are," she said contemptuously. "You make as muchfuss as when I wanted to take the thrush's eggs last spring. Wouldn'tyou like to give your dear Winfried a posy of them?"

  "No," Mavis answered, "he wouldn't like us to gather them; there are sofew and they do look so sweet." The next day was clear and bright, butcold; evidently winter was coming now. But old Bertha had started thefires at last, as the date on which it was the rule at the castle forthem to begin on was now past. So inside the house it was comfortableenough--in the inhabited part of it at least;
though in the great unusedrooms round the tiled hall, where all the furniture was shrouded inghostly-looking linen covers, and up the echoing staircase, and up stillhigher in the turret-rooms where the wind whistled in at one window andout again at the opposite one, where Jack Frost's pictures lasted thesame on the panes for days at a time--dear, dear, it _was_ cold, evenBertha herself allowed, when she had to make her weekly tour ofinspection to see that all was right.

  "I will ask Miss Hortensia not to let the little ladies play in the westturret this winter," thought the old woman. "I'm sure it was there MissMavis caught her cold last Christmas. A good fire indeed! It'd take aweek of bonfires to warm that room."

  But old Bertha was mistaken, as you will see. There was no thought ofplaying in the