The Children of the Castle

“You’ve no business to speak like that,” said Ruby. “I think you’re quite out of your mind about that common boy and his grandfather – or else – and I shouldn’t wonder if it was that, they’ve bewitched you, somehow.”

She dropped her voice with the last words, for she did not want her cousin to hear. But Miss Hortensia, though she was busily counting the rows of her knitting at the other end of the room, noticed the tone of the children’s voices.

“Come, come, my dears,” she said, “no wrangling – it would be something quite new here. I do hope,” she added to herself, “that it will be fine to-morrow; it is so much better for children when they can get out.”

It wasfine “to-morrow”; very fine. It was almost impossible for the little girls to believe that so few hours before the storm spirits had been indulging in their wild games, when they looked out of their window on to the bright clear winter sky, where scarcely a cloud was to be seen, the sun smiling down coldly but calmly; not a breath of wind moving the great fir-trees on the south side of the castle. Yet looking a little closer there were some traces of the night’s work; the ground was strewn with branches, and the last of the leaves had found their way down to their resting-place on old Mother Earth’s brown lap.

In spite of her anxieties, Mavis could not help her spirits rising.

“What a nice afternoon Ruby and I might have had with Winfried, if only Bertrand hadn’t come,” she thought.

Ruby was all smiles and gaiety.

“Perhaps,” Mavis went on to herself, “perhaps she’s really going to be nice and good. And if we two keep together, we can stop Bertrand being very naughty.”

Miss Hortensia was anxious for them to profit by the fine day. She had not much faith in the clear thin sunshine’s lasting, she said, and she shortened the lessons so that dinner might be very early, and the afternoon free.

It was still very bright and fine when the three children found themselves standing at the entrance of the archway, on the sea side of the castle.

“Which way shall we go?” said Mavis.

“Oh, down to the shore,” Ruby replied. “We may,” she went on, with a very slight glance in Bertrand’s direction, and a tone in her voice which struck Mavis oddly, though she scarcely knew why – “we may meet Winfried.”

“Yes,” said Bertrand in an off-hand way. “I told the fellow we might be somewhere about if it was fine to-day, and I said he might as well have his boat ready. I don’t mind paying him for the use of it. I’ve any amount of pocket-money;” and he thrust his hands into his pockets, jingling the coins which were in them.

Mavis thought to herself that she had never disliked him as much as now. But she said nothing, and they all three walked on. The pathway soon became steep and rugged, as I have told you. Ruby and Mavis were accustomed to it, and Bertrand was a strong, well-made boy. Still none of them were agile and nimble as the fisher-lad.

“You should see Winfried running down here,” said Ruby; “he goes like a stag, or a chamois, rather.”

She glanced at Bertrand as she spoke. Notwithstanding her alliance with him, there was something in Ruby’s nature that made it impossible for her to resist vexing him by this little hit.

The black look came over the boy’s face.

“What do you mean by that?” he muttered. “I’m not going to – ”

“Rubbish, Bertrand,” interrupted Ruby. “I never said anything about you. Winfried’s a fisher-boy; it’s his business to scramble about.”

Then she went close up to her cousin and whispered something to him, which seemed to smooth him down, though this only made Mavis more anxious and unhappy.

Chapter Eight.

A Naughty Plan

“The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows fu’ weel.”

    Ewen.

They were nearly at the cove, when they caught sight of a scarlet cap moving up and down among the rocks.

“There’s Winfried,” cried Mavis joyfully. She could not help having a feeling of safety when the fisher-lad was with them, in spite of her fears about the mischief the other two were planning. “Winfried, Winfried,” she called, “here we are.”

He glanced up with his bright though rather mysterious smile.

“I knew you’d be coming,” he said quietly.

“Of course you did,” said Bertrand in his rough, rude way, “considering I told you to meet us here. Have you got that boat of yours ready?”

“Yes,” said Winfried, and he pointed towards the cove. There, sure enough, was the little boat, bright and dainty, the sun shining on its pretty cushions and on the white glistening oars.

Bertrand was running forward, when there came a sudden exclamation from Ruby. She had put up her hand to her neck.

“Oh, my cross,” she cried, “my little silver cross. I forgot to fetch it from the turret-room. I left it there last night, and I meant to go and get it this morning. And I daren’t go on the sea without it – I’d be drowned, I know I should be.”

Mavis looked at her.

“Ruby,” she said, “I don’t, think you could have left it up there. You had no reason to take it off up there.”

“Oh, but I did, I did,” said Ruby. “I have a trick of taking it off; the cord gets entangled in my hair. I know it’s there.”

“I’ll fetch it you,” said Bertrand, with perfectly astounding good-nature. And he actually set off up the rocky path. Winfried started forward.

“I will go,” he said. “I can run much faster than he,” and he hastened after Bertrand.

But Bertrand had exerted himself unusually. He was already some way up before Winfried overtook him.

“No,” he said, when Winfried explained why he had come, “I want to go. But you may as well come too. I want to carry down my fishing-tackle – I’d forgotten it. You haven’t got any in the boat, I suppose?”

“No,” said Winfried, “it would keep us out too long. It’s too cold for the little ladies, and we should have to go too far out to sea.”

“I’ll bring it all the same,” said Bertrand doggedly; “so mind your own business.” But as Winfried walked on beside him without speaking, he added more civilly, “you may as well look at it and tell me if it’s the right kind. It’s what my father gave me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not right,” said Winfried. “The fishing here is quite different to anything you’ve ever seen. And any way we cannot keep your cousins waiting while we look at it.”

They were at the arched entrance by now.

“Well, then,” said Bertrand, “you run up and look for the cross. No need for two of us to tire our legs. I’ll wait here.”

Winfried entered the castle, and after one or two wrong turnings found himself on the right stair. He knew pretty exactly where he had to go, for he had often looked up at the west turret from the outside. But just as he got to the door he was overtaken by Bertrand, who had naturally come straight up without any wrong turnings.

“What a time you’ve been,” said Bertrand, pushing in before him. “Now, let’s see – where did Ruby say she’d left her cross? Oh yes, hanging up there; she must have stood on a chair to reach it.” And sure enough, on a nail pretty high up on the wall hung the little ornament.

Winfried drew forward a chair; in another minute he had reached down the cross.

“Here it is,” he said, turning to Bertrand. But – he spoke to the air! Bertrand was gone. Winfried’s face flushed; but he controlled himself. He walked quietly to the door and turned the handle. It did not open. It was locked from the outside. He was a prisoner!

“I knew something of the kind would come,” he said to himself. “What will they do now? Poor little Mavis! I must trust her to the princess.”

But he could not help a feeling of bitter anger. It was no light punishment to the active energetic boy to have to spend all the bright afternoon hours shut up here like an old owl in a church tower. And he knew that till some one came to let him out, a prisoner he verily was. For he might have shouted his voice hoarse, no one down below could have heard him. And the chance of any one in the castle coming up was very small.