The Children of the Castle. Molesworth Mrs.

of sand, white and glistening.

      Ruby darted forward.

      “What a lovely path!” she exclaimed; “will it take us straight home? Are you sure it will?”

      “Quite sure,” said Winfried. “You will see your way in no time if you run hand-in-hand.”

      “What a funny idea,” laughed the child; and Mavis too looked pleased.

      “I’m quite sure it’s a fairy road,” she was beginning to say, but, looking round, their little guide had disappeared. Then came his voice:

      “Good-night,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve shut-to the stone door, and I’m up on the top of it. Good-night, little ladies. Run home hand-in-hand.”

      The girls looked at each other.

      “Upon my word,” exclaimed Ruby, not quite knowing what to say, “if old Adam isn’t a wizard his grandson is. I think we’d better get out of this as quick as we can, Mavis.”

      She seemed half frightened and half provoked. Mavis, on the contrary, was quite simply delighted.

      “I shouldn’t wonder if this was the mermaid’s own way to the cottage,” she said. “I’m sure old Adam and Winfried aren’t wizards; but I do think they must be some kind of good fairies, or at least they must have to do with fairies. Come along, Ruby, hand-in-hand;” and she held out her own hand.

      But Ruby by this time had grown cross.

      “I won’t give in to such rubbish,” she said. “I don’t want to go along hand-in-hand like two silly babies. If it was worth the trouble I’d climb up to the top of the stone and go home the proper way.”

      This was all boasting. She knew quite well she could not possibly climb up the stone. But she walked on a few steps in sulky dignity. Suddenly she gave a little cry, slipped, and fell.

      “Oh, I’ve hurt my ankle!” she exclaimed. “This horrid white gravel is so slippery.”

      Mavis was beside her almost before she had said the words, and with her sister’s help Ruby got on to her feet again, though looking rather doleful.

      “I believe it’s all a trick of that horrid boy’s,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t made me come to see that dirty old cottage, Mavis.”

      Mavis stared.

      “Me make you come, Ruby?” she said. “Why, it was yourself.”

      “Well, you didn’t stop it, any way,” said Ruby, “and you seem to have taken such a fancy to that boy and his grandfather, and – ”

      “Ruby, we must go home,” said Mavis. “Try if you can get along.”

      They were “hand-in-hand.” There was no help for it now. Ruby tried to walk; to her surprise her ankle scarcely hurt her, and after a moment or two she even began urging Mavis to go faster.

      “I believe I could run,” she said. “Perhaps the bone in my ankle got out of its place and now has got into it again. Come on, Mavis.”

      They started running together, for in spite of her boasting Ruby had had a lesson and would not let go of Mavis. They got on famously; the ground seemed elastic; as they ran, each step grew at once firmer and yet lighter.

      “It isn’t a bit slippery now, is it?” said Mavis, glowing with the pleasant exercise. “And oh, Ruby, do look up at the sky – isn’t it lovely? And isn’t that the evening star coming out – that blue light up there; no, it’s too early. See – no, it’s gone. What could it be? Why, here we are, at the gate of the low terrace!”

      They had suddenly, as they ran, come out from the path, walled in, as it were, among the broken rocky fragments, on to a more open space, which at the first moment they scarcely recognised as one of the fields at the south side of the castle.

      Ruby too gazed about her with surprise.

      “It is a quick way home, certainly,” she allowed, “but I don’t see any star or blue light, Mavis. It must be your fancy.”

      Mavis looked up at the sky. The sunset colours were just beginning to fade; a soft pearly grey veil was slowly drawing over them, though they were still brilliant. Mavis seemed perplexed.

      “It is gone,” she said, “but I did see it.”

      “It must have been the dazzle of the light in your eyes,” said Ruby. “I am seeing lots of little suns all over – red ones and yellow ones.”

      “No, it wasn’t like that,” said Mavis; “it was more like – ”

      “More like what?” asked Ruby.

      “I was going to say more like a forget-me-not up in the sky,” said her sister.

      “You silly girl,” laughed Ruby. “I never did hear any one talk such nonsense as you do. I’ll tell cousin Hortensia, see if I don’t.”

      “I don’t mind,” said Mavis quietly.

      Chapter Three.

      The Princess with the Forget-me-not Eyes

      “For, just when it thrills me most,

      The fairies change into phantoms cold,

      And the beautiful dream is lost!”

      Miss Hortensia was looking out for the little girls as they slowly came up the terraces.

      “There you are at last,” she called out. “You are rather late, my dears. I have been round at the other side, thinking I saw you go out that way.”

      “So we did,” said Ruby. “We went down to the cove and along the shore as far as – . Oh, cousin Hortensia, we have had such adventures, and last of all, what do you think? Mavis has just seen a forget-me-not up in the sky.”

      Miss Hortensia smiled at Mavis; she had a particular way of smiling at her, as if she was not perfectly sure if the little girl were quite like other people. But Mavis, though she understood this far better than her cousin imagined, never felt angry at it.

      “A forget-me-not in the sky,” said the lady; “that is an odd idea. But you must tell me all your adventures when we are comfortably settled for the evening. Run in and take your things off quickly, for I don’t want you to catch cold, and the air, now the sun is set, is chilly. There is a splendid fire burning, and we shall have tea in my room as I promised you.”

      “Oh, how nice,” said Ruby. “Come along, Mavis. I’m as hungry as a hawk.”

      “And you’ll tell us stories after tea, cousin Hortensia, won’t you?” said Mavis; “at least you’ll tell us about your queer dream.”

      “And about mamma’s going to court,” added Ruby, as she dashed upstairs. For by this time they were inside the house.

      The part of the castle that the children and their cousin and the few servants in attendance on them occupied was really only a corner of it. A short flight of stairs led up to a small gallery running round a side-hall, and out of this gallery opened their sleeping-rooms and what had been their nursery and play-rooms. The school-room and Miss Hortensia’s own sitting-room were on the ground-floor. To get to any of the turrets was quite a long journey. They were approached by the great staircase which ascended from the large white and black tiled hall, dividing, after the first flight, into two branches, each of which led to passages from which other smaller stairs went upwards to the top of the house. The grandest rooms opened out of the tiled hall on the ground-floor, and out of the passages on the first floor. From this central part of the house the children’s corner was shut off by heavy swing doors seldom opened.

      So when Ruby and Mavis visited the turrets they had to pass through these doors, and go some way along the passages, and then up one of the side stairs – up, up, up, the flights of steps getting steeper and narrower as they climbed, till at last they reached the door of the turret-chamber itself. Of these chambers there were two, one in each turret, east and west. The west was their favourite, partly because from it they