The Children of the Castle

by Mrs. Molesworth

far-away, or rather long-ago look.

  "It is odd," she said; "I have a kind of fancy that I have heard of theold `solitary,' for he must be almost a hermit, before. But somehow Idon't think it was here. I wonder how long he has lived here?"

  "I don't know," said Ruby. "A good while, I should think. He was herewhen Joan was our nurse."

  "But that was only two years ago," said Miss Hortensia, smiling. "If hehad been here many years the people would not count him so much of aforeigner. And the boy you met--has he come to take care of the oldman?"

  "I suppose so. We didn't ask him," said Ruby carelessly. "He wasreally such a cool boy, ordering us not to go near the cottage indeed!I told him he might come up to get some soup or jelly for hisgrandfather," she went on, with a toss of her head. "I said it, youknow, just to put him in his place, and remind him whom he was speakingto."

  "I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude," said Mavis; "and, cousin, therereally was something rather `fairy' about him. Isn't it _very_ queer wenever heard of that path before?"

  "Yes," Miss Hortensia replied. "Are you sure you didn't both fallasleep on the shore and dream it all? Though, to be sure, it is rathertoo cold weather for you to have been overcome by drowsiness."

  "And we couldn't both have dreamt the same thing if we had fallenasleep," said Mavis, in her practical way. "It wasn't like when youwere a little girl and saw or dreamt--"

  "Don't you begin telling the story if cousin Hortensia's going to tellit herself," interrupted Ruby. "I was just thinking I had forgotten ita good deal, and that it would seem fresh. But here's tea at last--I amso glad."

  They were very merry and happy during the meal. Ruby was particularlypleased with herself, having a vague idea that she had behaved in a verygrand and dignified way. Mavis's eyes were very bright. Theafternoon's adventure had left on her a feeling of expecting somethingpleasant, that she could hardly put in words. And besides this, therewas cousin Hortensia's story to hear.

  When the table was cleared, cousin Hortensia settled herself with herknitting in a low chair by the fire, and told the children to bringforward two little stools and seat themselves beside her. They hadtheir knitting too, for this useful art had been taught them while theywere so young that they could scarcely remember having learnt it. Andthe three pairs of needles made a soft click-click, which did not theleast disturb their owners, so used were they to it. Rather did it seema pleasant accompaniment to Miss Hortensia's voice.

  "You want me to tell you the story of my night in the west turret-roomwhen I was a little girl," she began. "You have heard it before, partlyat least, but I will try to tell it more fully this time. I was a verylittle girl, younger than you two--I don't think I was more than eightyears old. I had come here with my father and mother and elder sistersto join a merry party assembled to celebrate the silver wedding of yourgreat-grandparents. Your grandfather himself, their eldest child, wasabout three and twenty. He was not then married, so it was some timebefore your father was born. I don't quite know why they had broughtme. It seems to me I would have been better at home in my nursery, forthere were no children as young as I to keep me company. Perhaps it wasthat they wished to have me to represent another generation, as it were,though, after all, that might have been done by my sisters. The elderof them, Jacintha, was then nineteen; it was she who afterwards marriedyour grandfather, so that besides being cousins of the family, as wewere already, I am your grandmother's sister, and thus your great-auntas well as cousin."

  The little girls nodded their heads.

  "I was so much younger than Jacintha," Miss Hortensia went on, "thatyour father never called me aunt. He and I have always been Robert andHortensia to each other, and to me he has always been like a youngerbrother."

  "But about your adventure," said Ruby, who was not of a sentimentalturn.

  "I am coming to it," said their cousin. "Well, as I said, the party wasa merry one. They had dancing and music in plenty every evening, andthe house, which was in some ways smaller than it is now, was very full.There were a great many bedrooms, though few of them were large, and Iand my sisters, being relations, were treated with rather less ceremonythan some of the stranger guests, and put to sleep in the turret-room.I had a little bed in one corner, and my sisters slept together in thesame old four-poster which is still there. I used to be put to bed muchearlier than they came, for, as I said, there were dancing and otheramusements most evenings till pretty late. I was not at all a nervousor frightened child, and even sometimes when I lay up there by myselfwide awake--for the change and the excitement kept me from going tosleep as quickly as at home--I did not feel at all lonely. From my bedI could see out of the window, for the turret windows are so high upthat it has never been necessary to have blinds on them, and I loved tolie there watching the starlit sky, or sometimes, when the moon wasbright and full, gazing up at the clouds that went scurrying over herface. One night I had been unusually wakeful. I lay there, hearing nowand then very, very faint, far-off sounds of the music down below. Itwas a mild night, and I think the windows were a little open. At last Imust have fallen asleep. When I awoke, or rather when I _thought_ Iawoke, the room was all in darkness except in one corner, the corner bythe west window. There, there was a soft steady light, and it seemed tome that it was on purpose to make me look that way. For there, sittingon the old chair that still stands in the depth of that window was someone I had never seen before. A lady in a cloudy silvery dress, with asheen of blue over it. My waking, or looking at her, for though it mustall have been a dream, I could not make you understand it unless Idescribed it as if it were real, seemed to be made conscious to her, forshe at once turned her eyes upon me, then rose slowly and came over theroom towards me."

  "Weren't you frightened?" said Ruby breathlessly. In spite of herboasted disbelief in dreams and visions her cousin's story had caughther attention. Miss Hortensia shook her head.

  "Not in the _very_ least," she said. "On the contrary, I felt a strangeand delightful kind of pleasure and wonder. It was more intense than Ihave ever felt anything of the kind in waking life; indeed, if it hadlasted long I think it would have been more than I could bear--" MissHortensia stopped for a moment and leant back in her chair. "I havefelt _something_ of the same," she went on, "when listening to very,_very_ beautiful music--music that seemed too beautiful and made youalmost cry out for it to stop."

  "I've never heard music like that," whispered little Mavis, "but I thinkI know what you mean."

  "Or," continued Miss Hortensia, "sometimes on a marvellously beautifulday--what people call a `heavenly' day, I have had a feeling rather likeit. A feeling that makes one shut one's eyes for very pleasure."

  "Well," said Ruby, "did you shut your eyes then, or what did you do?"

  "No," said her cousin. "I could not have shut them. I felt she waslooking at me, and her eyes seemed to catch and fasten mine and drawthem into hers. It was her eyes above all that filled me with thatbeautiful wonderful feeling. I can never forget it--never. I couldfancy sometimes even now, old woman as I am, that I am again the littleenraptured child gazing up at the beautiful vision. I feel her eyes inmine still."

  "How funny you are," interrupted Ruby. "A minute ago you said shepulled your eyes into hers, now you say hers came into yours. It wouldbe a very funny feeling whichever it was; I don't think I should likeit."

  Miss Hortensia glanced at her, but gravely. She did not smile.

  "It must be a very `funny' feeling, as you call it, to a hitherto blindman the first time he sees the sunshine. I daresay he would find itdifficult to describe; and to a still blind person it would beimpossible to explain it. I daresay the newly-cured man would not feelsure whether the sun had come into his eyes or his eyes had reached upto the sun."

  Ruby fidgeted.

  "Oh, do go on about the fairy or whatever she was," she said. "Nevermind about what I said."

  Miss Hortensia smiled.

  "The lady came slowly across th
e room to me," she went on, "and stood bymy bed, looking down at me with those wonderful blue eyes. Then shesmiled, and it seemed as if the light about her grew still brighter. Ithought I sat up in bed to see her better. `Are you a fairy?' I saidat last. She smiled still more. `If you like, you may call me afairy,' she answered. `But if I am a fairy my home must be fairyland,and this turret-room is one of my homes. So you are my guest, my littlegirl.' I did not mind her saying that. I smiled too. `I've never seenyou here before,' I said. And she