The Children of the Castle

“Yes,” said the little girl, speaking steadily, though in a whisper, “I see you, and I see your eyes. Who are you? I may ask you, may I not?”

The fairy – if fairy she was – smiled.

“I have many names,” she said; “but if you like you may think of me by the one Winfried loves. He calls me ‘Princess with the Forget-me-not Eyes,’ or ‘Princess Forget-me-not.’”

“Yes,” said Mavis, “I like that; and I will never forget you, princess.”

Again the lovely vision smiled.

“No, my child, you never will, for, to tell you a secret, you cannot, even if you wished. Afterwards, when you know me better, you will see how well my name suits me. But it does not seem to all a sweet name, as I think it always will to you,” and she sighed a little. “There are those who long to forget me; those who wish they had never seen me.”

The sadness in her eyes was reflected in the child’s.

“How can that be?” asked Mavis.

The blue-eyed princess shook her head.

“Nay, my darling, I cannot tell you, and I scarce would if I could,” she said gently. But then a brighter look came over her face again, “Don’t look so sad. They change again some of them, and seek me as earnestly as they would have before fled from me. And some day you may help and guide such seekers, simple as you are, my little Mavis. Now I must go – call Ruby – she would not stay for me; she has not yet seen me. But she heard my voice, that is better than nothing. Good-bye, little Mavis, and if you want me again before I come of myself, seek me in the west turret.”

Mavis’s face lighted up.

“Then it was you – you are cousin Hortensia’s fairy, and it wasn’t a dream after all. And of course you must be a fairy, for that was ever, ever so long ago. She was a little girl then, and now she is quite old, and you look as young as – as – ”

“As who or what?” asked the princess, smiling again.

“As the Sleeping Beauty in the wood,” replied Mavis, after deep consideration.

At this the princess did more than smile; she laughed, – the same clear delicate laugh which the children had heard that day in the distance.

And Mavis laughed too; she could not help it.

“May I tell cousin Hortensia?” she asked. “Oh do say I may.”

“You may,” said Forget-me-not, “if – if you can!”

And while Mavis was wondering what she meant, a breath of soft wind seemed to blow past her, and glancing up, the princess was gone!

Mavis rubbed her eyes. Had she been asleep? It seemed a long time since Winfried told her and Ruby to wait for him in the grotto; and where was Ruby? Why did she not come back? Mavis began to feel uneasy. Surely she had been asleep – for – was she asleep still? Looking round her, she saw that she was no longer in the grotto-cave behind old Adam’s cottage, but standing in the archway at the sea side of the castle – the archway I have told you of into which opened the principal entrance to the grim old building. And as she stood there, silent and perplexed, uncertain whether she was not still dreaming, she heard voices coming near. The first she could distinguish was Ruby’s.

“There you are, Mavis, I declare,” she exclaimed. “Now it’s too bad of you to have run on so fast without telling, and I’ve been fussing about you all the way home, though Winfried said he was sure we should find you here. How did you get back?”

“How did you?” asked Mavis in return. “And why didn’t you come back to me in the grotto? I – I waited ever so long, and then – ” but that was all she could say, though a smile broke over her face when she thought of what she had seen.

“You look as if you had been asleep,” said Ruby impatiently.

“And having pleasant dreams,” added Winfried. “But all’s well that ends well. Won’t you run in now, my little ladies, and let Miss Hortensia see that I’ve brought you safe back. It is cold and dark standing out here, and I must be off home.”

“Good-night then,” said Ruby; “you’re a very queer boy, but you brought me home all right any way, and those cakes were very good.”

“You will come to see us soon again, won’t you, Winfried?” said Mavis, who felt as if she had a great deal to ask which only he could answer, though with Ruby there beside her she could not have explained what she wanted to know.

“To be sure I will, if you want me,” said the boy.

“Don’t be puzzled, Miss Mavis, pleasant dreams don’t do any one harm.”

And as they pushed open the great, nail-studded door which was never locked till after nightfall Winfried ran off.

They stood still for a moment just inside the entrance. They could hear him whistling as he went, smoothly at first, then it seemed to come in jerks, going on for a moment or two and then suddenly stopping, to begin again as suddenly.

“He’s jumping down the cliff. I can hear it by his whistle,” said Ruby. “How dangerous!”

“He’s very sure-footed,” said Mavis with a little sigh. She was feeling tired – and —was it a dream? If so, how had she got home? Had the fairy lady wrapped her round in her cloak of mist and flown with her to the castle? Mavis could not tell, and somehow Ruby did not ask her again.

“How did you come home, Ruby?” Mavis asked as they were going along the passage to their sitting-room.

“Oh,” said Ruby, “Winfried took me down some steps, and then up some others, and before I knew where we were, we were in the rock path not far from home. It was like magic. I can’t make out that boy,” she said mysteriously; “but we’re not turned into frogs or toads yet. Here we are, cousin Hortensia,” she went on, as the good lady suddenly appeared at the end of the passage, “safe home from the wizard’s haunts.”

But Miss Hortensia only smiled.

“I was not uneasy,” she said. “I thought you would be quite safe.”

Chapter Six.

Bertrand

“But the unkind and the unruly,
And the sort who eat unduly,
Theirs is quite a different story.”

    Good and Bad Children: Louis Stevenson.
They were just beginning tea, and Ruby’s tongue was going fast as she described to Miss Hortensia all that happened that afternoon, while Mavis sat half-dreamily wondering what the fairy lady had meant by saying she might tell her cousin about her “if she could,” when there came a sudden and unusual sound that made them all start. It was the clanging of the great bell at the principal entrance on the south side – the entrance by which, you remember, all visitors, except those coming by sea, came to the castle.

“Who can that be?” exclaimed Ruby, jumping up and looking very pleased – Ruby loved any excitement. “Can it be father? What fun if he’s come to surprise us! Only I hope he won’t have forgotten our presents. He generally asks us what we want before he comes.”

Mavis had grown a little pale; somehow the things that Ruby was frightened of never alarmed her, and yet she was more easily startled by others that Ruby rather enjoyed.

“I hope it isn’t a message to say that anything is the matter with dear father,” she said anxiously.

Miss Hortensia got up from her seat and went to the door. She did not seem frightened, but still rather uneasy.

“I’m afraid,” she began, “I’m afraid – and yet I should not speak of it that way; it is not kind. But I did so ask them to give us notice of his coming.” She had left the room almost before she had finished speaking. The children looked at each other.

“I say, Mavis,” said Ruby, “it’s Bertrand! Don’t you think we might run out and see?”

“No,” Mavis replied decidedly, “certainly not. Cousin Hortensia would have told us to come if she had wanted us.”

But they went to the open door and stood close beside it, listening intently. Then came the sound of old Joseph’s steps along the stone passage from the part of the house which he and Bertha – Joseph was Bertha’s husband – inhabited, then the drawing back of the bolts and bars, and, most interesting and exciting of all, a noise of horses stamping and shaking their harness as if glad to have got to the end of their journey. Then followed voices; and in a minute or two the children heard Miss Hortensia coming back, speaking as she came.