Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven.In the Turret-Room.“The wind with the clouds is battling,Till the pine-trees shriek with fear.”Pan.They ran off, leaving Mavis alone in the turret-room. Poor Mavis! all her happy and hopeful feelings were gone.“It is no use,” she said to herself; “I can’t stop Ruby. Bertrand will just make her as naughty as himself. Oh,howI do wish he had never come! All our happiness is spoilt.”And feeling very sorry for herself, and for every one concerned except Bertrand, towards whom, I fear, her feelings were more of anger than grief, Mavis sat down on one of the capacious old chairs that stood beside her and began to cry quietly. Suddenly a strange sensation came over her—through her, rather. She drew her handkerchief from her eyes and looked up—shehadto look up—and—yes, there it was again, theretheywere again. The wonderful unforgettable blue eyes, so searching, so irresistible, so tender. Sweet and perfectly loving as they were, it was yet impossible to meet them without a half-trembling thrill. And the first thought that flashed through the little girl was, “How could I bear her to look at me if I had been naughty?”“Naughty” she had not been, but—she felt her cheeks flush—look down she could not, as she said to herself that she was afraid she had been—The word was taken out of her thoughts and expressed just as she came to it.“Silly,” said the clear soft voice. “Silly little Mavis. What is it all about? Is everything going wrong at the first trial?”Then as Mavis gazed, the silvery-blue mist grew firmer and less vague, and gradually the lovely form and features became distinct.“Oh dear princess,” said the child, “I amsoglad you have come. Yes, I daresay I am silly, but I am so unhappy;” and she poured out all her troubles. “I shall not be unhappy any more,” she ended up, “now I know you aretrue. I had almost begun to fancy you were all a dream.”Forget-me-not smiled, but for a moment or two she did not speak. Then she said—“What is it you are afraid of Ruby doing—Ruby and Bertrand?”“Playing some unkind trick on Winfried,” replied Mavis eagerly; “or even worse—for Ruby knows that would hurt him most—on his old grandfather. It would be so horrid, sowicked,” and Mavis’s voice grew tearful again, “when they have been so kind to us. Oh dear princess, will you stop them?” Forget-me-not looked at her gravely.“My child,” she said, “do they notknowit would be wrong to do such a thing?”“Yes,” Mavis replied, “of course they do.”“Then how could I stop them? I mean to say, what would be the good of stopping them, if they know already it is wrong?” said the princess.Mavis looked puzzled.“But if—if—they were to hurt or frighten old Adam or Winfried?” she said.Forget-me-not smiled again.“Ah yes,” she said, “thatI can promise you shall not be. But beyond that, if it is in their hearts wilfully to do what they know to be wrong, I fear, little Mavis, I fear they must do it, and perhaps learn thereby. When peopleknow—”Mavis’s eyes told that she understood; she looked very grave, but still somewhat relieved.“I am glad you won’t let it hurt Winfried or his grandfather,” she said. “But oh, I can’t bear Ruby to be made naughty by that horrid boy,” and she seemed on the point of bursting into tears. “Dear princess,” she went on, “couldn’t you speak to her—the way you do to me? You make me feel that I would—I would doanythingyou told me.”“Dear child, Ruby cannot hear me yet; she cannot see me. If she could, she would feel as you. Be patient, Mavis, love her as you have always done; that will not be difficult. But that is not all. You must try to love Bertrand too.”Mavis’s face grew very long.“I don’t think Ican,” she said at last.“But you must, sooner or later, and it may as well be sooner. I will tell you one thing—a secret, which perhaps will make it easier for you. I mean to make him lovemebefore I have done with him, though he may begin by hating me.”The little girl looked very grave.“And Ruby?” she said. “I should care most for Ruby to love you.”Strange to say, Forget-me-not’s eyes looked sadder than when she had been talking of Bertrand.“It may be more difficult,” she murmured, so low that Mavis hardly caught the words.“Oh no, dear princess,” she said eagerly, “Ruby isn’t anything like as naughty as Bertrand. You mustn’t fancy that. She’s just—just—she doesn’t think—”“I know,” said Forget-me-not; but that was all, and her eyes still looked sad.Then she glanced round. The old room seemed like a background to her lovely figure, it was like gazing at a picture in a dark setting.“I must go,” she said, “and when I go you will be all in the dark. The clouds are so heavy and the day is getting on. Can you find your way all down the stair alone, Mavis? The others have not thought about leaving you up here alone.”“I don’t think I mind,” said Mavis; but her voice was a little tremulous, for the corner where the door was, across the room from where Forget-me-not stood, loomed dark and gloomy.The princess smiled.“Yes you do, dear. Don’t tell stories. I was only trying your courage a tiny bit. Come here, darling.”Mavis crept nearer her, nearer than she had yet been.“I am afraid of soiling your lovely dress,” she said.“My pinafore’s rather dirty; we’ve been playing all over the dusty rooms, you see.”Then Forget-me-not laughed. Her talking was charming, her smile was bewitching, her grave sad looks were like solemn music—what words have we left to describe her laugh? I can think of none. I can only tell you that it made little Mavis feel as if all the birds in the trees, all the flowers in the fields, all the brooks and waterfalls, all the happy joyous things in the world had suddenly come together with a shout—no, shout is too loud and rough,—with a warble and flutter of irrepressible glee.“Oh,” said Mavis, “how beautiful it is to hear you, princess, and how—”She did not finish her sentence. In another moment she felt herself lifted up—up in the air ever so far, it seemed, and then cosily deposited most comfortably on Forget-me-not’s shoulder. It was years and years since Mavis had thought herself small enough to ride even on her father’s shoulder—great, strong tall father—and the princess who looked so slight and fairy-like, how could she be so strong? Yet the arms that had lifted herwerestrong, strong and firm as father’s, nay stronger. And the hand that held her up in her place was so secure in its gentle grasp that the little girl felt shecouldnot fall, and that is a very pleasant feeling, I can assure you.“Shut your eyes, Mavis,” said Forget-me-not, “I am quick in my movements. You are quite firm—there now, I have thrown my scarf over you. I am going to take you rather a round-about way, I warn you.”A soft whirr and rush—where were they? Out of the window somehow they had got, for Mavis felt the chilly air and heard the swish of the rain, though strange to say the chill seemed only a pleasant freshness, and the raindrops did not touch her. Then up, up—dear, dear, wherewerethey off to? Had Forget-me-not suddenly turned into the old woman who goes up to brush away the cobwebs in the sky? Mavis laughed as the fancy struck her; she did not care, not she, the higher the better, the faster they flew the merrier she felt. Till at last there came a halt. Forget-me-not stopped short with a long breath.“Heigh-ho!” she exclaimed, “I’ve given you a toss up, haven’t I? Look out, Mavis; we’ve come ever so far,—peep out and you’ll see the stars getting ready to bid you good-evening. It’s quite clear, of course, up here above the clouds.”Mavis opened her eyes and peeped out from the folds of Forget-me-not’s scarf, which, light as it was, had yet a marvellous warmth about it.Clear, I should think itwasclear! Never had Mavis pictured to herself anything so beautiful as that evening sky, up “above the clouds,” as the princess had said. I have never seen it, so I cannot very well describe it; indeed, I should be rather afraid to do so on hearsay, for I should be sure to make some mistake, and to name the wrong planets and constellations.“Oh,” said Mavis, “how nice!”It was rather a stupid little word to say, but Forget-me-not was too “understanding” to mind.“Look about you well for a minute or two. Who knows when you may have such a chance again?” and for a little there was silence. Then “Shut your eyes again, dear, and clasp me tight; little girls are apt to get giddy in such circumstances. Yes, that’s right.”“The stars are like your eyes,” said Mavis.Then again the soft rash; a plunge downwards this time, which made Mavis need no second bidding to clasp her friend closely. There came over her a misty, sleepy feeling. She could not have told exactly when they stopped; she only felt a sort of butterfly kiss on her eyes, and a breath that sounded like good-night, and then—she was standing in the school-room by the fire; the lamp was lighted, it looked bright and cosy, and Mavis had never felt happier or stronger in her life.“That nice fresh air has brightened me up so,” she said to herself. But her hands were rather cold. She went close up to the fire to warm them. There was no one in the room.“I wonder where Ruby and Bertrand are,” thought Mavis. Just then she heard Miss Hortensia’s voice.“Poor dear,” she was saying. “Ruby, how could you be so thoughtless? I must get lights at once and go and look for her.”“We’ve called and called up the stair, but she didn’t answer,” said Ruby in rather an ashamed tone of voice.“Called,” repeated Miss Hortensia, “why didn’t yougo?”“It was so dark when we remembered about her, and—”“You were afraid, I suppose,” said her cousin.“Really; and yet you would leave poor Mavis all alone—and a great boy like you, Bertrand.”“Iwasn’t afraid, but I wasn’t going to bother to go up all that way. She could come down by herself,” said Master Bertrand rudely.But before Miss Hortensia could reply again Mavis ran out.“Here I am, dear cousin,” she said. “I’m all right.” And indeed she did look all right, as she stood there sideways in the doorway, the light from the room behind her falling on her pretty hair and fair face.“The dear child,” thought Miss Hortensia. “No one could say Mavis isn’t as pretty as Ruby now.” And aloud she exclaimed: “My darling, where have you been? And were you afraid up there in the dark all by yourself?”“Why didn’t you come with us?” said Ruby crossly. “It was all your own fault.”“I didn’t mind,” said Mavis. “I’m only sorry cousin Hortensia was frightened. I’m all right, you see.”“I was frightened about you too,” grumbled Ruby.“Iwasn’t,” said Bertrand with a rough laugh. “There’s nothing tofrightenone up in that cock-loft; dingy, misty place that it is.”“Misty!” exclaimed Miss Hortensia in surprise, “what does the child mean?”“Bertrand will say the turret was full of blue smoke,” said Ruby, “and that it hurt his eyes.”“It did,” said the boy; “they’re smarting still.” Mavis smiled. Miss Hortensia seemed perplexed, and rather anxious to change the subject.“I do hope,” she said, “that to-morrow will be fine, so that Bertrand and you, Ruby, may get rid of some of your spirits out-of-doors.”“I hope too that it will be fine,” said Ruby meaningly. “Bertrand and I have planned a very long walk. You needn’t come,” she went on, turning to Mavis, “if you think you’d be tired.”“I don’t get tired quicker than you do,” said Mavis quietly. Her heart sank within her at Ruby’s tone; for though she was glad to think Forget-me-not would prevent any harm to old Adam or Winfried, she did not like to think of Ruby’s heartlessness and folly. And when she glanced at Bertrand and saw the half-scornful smile on his face, it was all she could do to keep back her tears.All that evening the rain kept pouring down in torrents, and the wind beat on the window, shaking even the heavy frames, like a giant in a fury, determined to make his way in.“What a storm,” said Miss Hortensia more than once, with a little shiver. “I cannot bear to think of the poor souls at sea.”Bertrand laughed.“It would be great fun to see a shipwreck, if one was safe out of harm’s way. I wouldn’t mind staying up in that musty old turret a whole afternoon to have a good view.”Even Ruby was startled.“Oh Bertrand,” she said, “you can’t know what a shipwreck means if you speak like that.”“I’ve read stories of them,” said the boy, “so I should know.”There was a very slight touch of something in his tone which made Mavis wonder if he really meant all the naughty things he said. She glanced up at him quickly.“If there ever were a shipwreck here,” she said, “I know who’d help and who wouldn’t.”Bertrand’s face hardened at once.“That’s meant for me,” he retorted; “for me and that precious lout of a friend of yours. You think him so grand and brave! Ah well! wait a bit and see. When people don’t know their proper place they must be taught it.”Mavis drew herself up.“Yes,” she said, “wewillwait a bit and see. But it won’t be the sort of seeing you’ll like perhaps.”“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 dohope,” she added to herself, “that it will be fine to-morrow; it is so much better for children when they can get out.”Itwasfine “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, ifonlyBertrand 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—“wemaymeet 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 aboutyou. 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.

“The wind with the clouds is battling,Till the pine-trees shriek with fear.”Pan.

“The wind with the clouds is battling,Till the pine-trees shriek with fear.”Pan.

They ran off, leaving Mavis alone in the turret-room. Poor Mavis! all her happy and hopeful feelings were gone.

“It is no use,” she said to herself; “I can’t stop Ruby. Bertrand will just make her as naughty as himself. Oh,howI do wish he had never come! All our happiness is spoilt.”

And feeling very sorry for herself, and for every one concerned except Bertrand, towards whom, I fear, her feelings were more of anger than grief, Mavis sat down on one of the capacious old chairs that stood beside her and began to cry quietly. Suddenly a strange sensation came over her—through her, rather. She drew her handkerchief from her eyes and looked up—shehadto look up—and—yes, there it was again, theretheywere again. The wonderful unforgettable blue eyes, so searching, so irresistible, so tender. Sweet and perfectly loving as they were, it was yet impossible to meet them without a half-trembling thrill. And the first thought that flashed through the little girl was, “How could I bear her to look at me if I had been naughty?”

“Naughty” she had not been, but—she felt her cheeks flush—look down she could not, as she said to herself that she was afraid she had been—

The word was taken out of her thoughts and expressed just as she came to it.

“Silly,” said the clear soft voice. “Silly little Mavis. What is it all about? Is everything going wrong at the first trial?”

Then as Mavis gazed, the silvery-blue mist grew firmer and less vague, and gradually the lovely form and features became distinct.

“Oh dear princess,” said the child, “I amsoglad you have come. Yes, I daresay I am silly, but I am so unhappy;” and she poured out all her troubles. “I shall not be unhappy any more,” she ended up, “now I know you aretrue. I had almost begun to fancy you were all a dream.”

Forget-me-not smiled, but for a moment or two she did not speak. Then she said—

“What is it you are afraid of Ruby doing—Ruby and Bertrand?”

“Playing some unkind trick on Winfried,” replied Mavis eagerly; “or even worse—for Ruby knows that would hurt him most—on his old grandfather. It would be so horrid, sowicked,” and Mavis’s voice grew tearful again, “when they have been so kind to us. Oh dear princess, will you stop them?” Forget-me-not looked at her gravely.

“My child,” she said, “do they notknowit would be wrong to do such a thing?”

“Yes,” Mavis replied, “of course they do.”

“Then how could I stop them? I mean to say, what would be the good of stopping them, if they know already it is wrong?” said the princess.

Mavis looked puzzled.

“But if—if—they were to hurt or frighten old Adam or Winfried?” she said.

Forget-me-not smiled again.

“Ah yes,” she said, “thatI can promise you shall not be. But beyond that, if it is in their hearts wilfully to do what they know to be wrong, I fear, little Mavis, I fear they must do it, and perhaps learn thereby. When peopleknow—”

Mavis’s eyes told that she understood; she looked very grave, but still somewhat relieved.

“I am glad you won’t let it hurt Winfried or his grandfather,” she said. “But oh, I can’t bear Ruby to be made naughty by that horrid boy,” and she seemed on the point of bursting into tears. “Dear princess,” she went on, “couldn’t you speak to her—the way you do to me? You make me feel that I would—I would doanythingyou told me.”

“Dear child, Ruby cannot hear me yet; she cannot see me. If she could, she would feel as you. Be patient, Mavis, love her as you have always done; that will not be difficult. But that is not all. You must try to love Bertrand too.”

Mavis’s face grew very long.

“I don’t think Ican,” she said at last.

“But you must, sooner or later, and it may as well be sooner. I will tell you one thing—a secret, which perhaps will make it easier for you. I mean to make him lovemebefore I have done with him, though he may begin by hating me.”

The little girl looked very grave.

“And Ruby?” she said. “I should care most for Ruby to love you.”

Strange to say, Forget-me-not’s eyes looked sadder than when she had been talking of Bertrand.

“It may be more difficult,” she murmured, so low that Mavis hardly caught the words.

“Oh no, dear princess,” she said eagerly, “Ruby isn’t anything like as naughty as Bertrand. You mustn’t fancy that. She’s just—just—she doesn’t think—”

“I know,” said Forget-me-not; but that was all, and her eyes still looked sad.

Then she glanced round. The old room seemed like a background to her lovely figure, it was like gazing at a picture in a dark setting.

“I must go,” she said, “and when I go you will be all in the dark. The clouds are so heavy and the day is getting on. Can you find your way all down the stair alone, Mavis? The others have not thought about leaving you up here alone.”

“I don’t think I mind,” said Mavis; but her voice was a little tremulous, for the corner where the door was, across the room from where Forget-me-not stood, loomed dark and gloomy.

The princess smiled.

“Yes you do, dear. Don’t tell stories. I was only trying your courage a tiny bit. Come here, darling.”

Mavis crept nearer her, nearer than she had yet been.

“I am afraid of soiling your lovely dress,” she said.

“My pinafore’s rather dirty; we’ve been playing all over the dusty rooms, you see.”

Then Forget-me-not laughed. Her talking was charming, her smile was bewitching, her grave sad looks were like solemn music—what words have we left to describe her laugh? I can think of none. I can only tell you that it made little Mavis feel as if all the birds in the trees, all the flowers in the fields, all the brooks and waterfalls, all the happy joyous things in the world had suddenly come together with a shout—no, shout is too loud and rough,—with a warble and flutter of irrepressible glee.

“Oh,” said Mavis, “how beautiful it is to hear you, princess, and how—”

She did not finish her sentence. In another moment she felt herself lifted up—up in the air ever so far, it seemed, and then cosily deposited most comfortably on Forget-me-not’s shoulder. It was years and years since Mavis had thought herself small enough to ride even on her father’s shoulder—great, strong tall father—and the princess who looked so slight and fairy-like, how could she be so strong? Yet the arms that had lifted herwerestrong, strong and firm as father’s, nay stronger. And the hand that held her up in her place was so secure in its gentle grasp that the little girl felt shecouldnot fall, and that is a very pleasant feeling, I can assure you.

“Shut your eyes, Mavis,” said Forget-me-not, “I am quick in my movements. You are quite firm—there now, I have thrown my scarf over you. I am going to take you rather a round-about way, I warn you.”

A soft whirr and rush—where were they? Out of the window somehow they had got, for Mavis felt the chilly air and heard the swish of the rain, though strange to say the chill seemed only a pleasant freshness, and the raindrops did not touch her. Then up, up—dear, dear, wherewerethey off to? Had Forget-me-not suddenly turned into the old woman who goes up to brush away the cobwebs in the sky? Mavis laughed as the fancy struck her; she did not care, not she, the higher the better, the faster they flew the merrier she felt. Till at last there came a halt. Forget-me-not stopped short with a long breath.

“Heigh-ho!” she exclaimed, “I’ve given you a toss up, haven’t I? Look out, Mavis; we’ve come ever so far,—peep out and you’ll see the stars getting ready to bid you good-evening. It’s quite clear, of course, up here above the clouds.”

Mavis opened her eyes and peeped out from the folds of Forget-me-not’s scarf, which, light as it was, had yet a marvellous warmth about it.

Clear, I should think itwasclear! Never had Mavis pictured to herself anything so beautiful as that evening sky, up “above the clouds,” as the princess had said. I have never seen it, so I cannot very well describe it; indeed, I should be rather afraid to do so on hearsay, for I should be sure to make some mistake, and to name the wrong planets and constellations.

“Oh,” said Mavis, “how nice!”

It was rather a stupid little word to say, but Forget-me-not was too “understanding” to mind.

“Look about you well for a minute or two. Who knows when you may have such a chance again?” and for a little there was silence. Then “Shut your eyes again, dear, and clasp me tight; little girls are apt to get giddy in such circumstances. Yes, that’s right.”

“The stars are like your eyes,” said Mavis.

Then again the soft rash; a plunge downwards this time, which made Mavis need no second bidding to clasp her friend closely. There came over her a misty, sleepy feeling. She could not have told exactly when they stopped; she only felt a sort of butterfly kiss on her eyes, and a breath that sounded like good-night, and then—she was standing in the school-room by the fire; the lamp was lighted, it looked bright and cosy, and Mavis had never felt happier or stronger in her life.

“That nice fresh air has brightened me up so,” she said to herself. But her hands were rather cold. She went close up to the fire to warm them. There was no one in the room.

“I wonder where Ruby and Bertrand are,” thought Mavis. Just then she heard Miss Hortensia’s voice.

“Poor dear,” she was saying. “Ruby, how could you be so thoughtless? I must get lights at once and go and look for her.”

“We’ve called and called up the stair, but she didn’t answer,” said Ruby in rather an ashamed tone of voice.

“Called,” repeated Miss Hortensia, “why didn’t yougo?”

“It was so dark when we remembered about her, and—”

“You were afraid, I suppose,” said her cousin.

“Really; and yet you would leave poor Mavis all alone—and a great boy like you, Bertrand.”

“Iwasn’t afraid, but I wasn’t going to bother to go up all that way. She could come down by herself,” said Master Bertrand rudely.

But before Miss Hortensia could reply again Mavis ran out.

“Here I am, dear cousin,” she said. “I’m all right.” And indeed she did look all right, as she stood there sideways in the doorway, the light from the room behind her falling on her pretty hair and fair face.

“The dear child,” thought Miss Hortensia. “No one could say Mavis isn’t as pretty as Ruby now.” And aloud she exclaimed: “My darling, where have you been? And were you afraid up there in the dark all by yourself?”

“Why didn’t you come with us?” said Ruby crossly. “It was all your own fault.”

“I didn’t mind,” said Mavis. “I’m only sorry cousin Hortensia was frightened. I’m all right, you see.”

“I was frightened about you too,” grumbled Ruby.

“Iwasn’t,” said Bertrand with a rough laugh. “There’s nothing tofrightenone up in that cock-loft; dingy, misty place that it is.”

“Misty!” exclaimed Miss Hortensia in surprise, “what does the child mean?”

“Bertrand will say the turret was full of blue smoke,” said Ruby, “and that it hurt his eyes.”

“It did,” said the boy; “they’re smarting still.” Mavis smiled. Miss Hortensia seemed perplexed, and rather anxious to change the subject.

“I do hope,” she said, “that to-morrow will be fine, so that Bertrand and you, Ruby, may get rid of some of your spirits out-of-doors.”

“I hope too that it will be fine,” said Ruby meaningly. “Bertrand and I have planned a very long walk. You needn’t come,” she went on, turning to Mavis, “if you think you’d be tired.”

“I don’t get tired quicker than you do,” said Mavis quietly. Her heart sank within her at Ruby’s tone; for though she was glad to think Forget-me-not would prevent any harm to old Adam or Winfried, she did not like to think of Ruby’s heartlessness and folly. And when she glanced at Bertrand and saw the half-scornful smile on his face, it was all she could do to keep back her tears.

All that evening the rain kept pouring down in torrents, and the wind beat on the window, shaking even the heavy frames, like a giant in a fury, determined to make his way in.

“What a storm,” said Miss Hortensia more than once, with a little shiver. “I cannot bear to think of the poor souls at sea.”

Bertrand laughed.

“It would be great fun to see a shipwreck, if one was safe out of harm’s way. I wouldn’t mind staying up in that musty old turret a whole afternoon to have a good view.”

Even Ruby was startled.

“Oh Bertrand,” she said, “you can’t know what a shipwreck means if you speak like that.”

“I’ve read stories of them,” said the boy, “so I should know.”

There was a very slight touch of something in his tone which made Mavis wonder if he really meant all the naughty things he said. She glanced up at him quickly.

“If there ever were a shipwreck here,” she said, “I know who’d help and who wouldn’t.”

Bertrand’s face hardened at once.

“That’s meant for me,” he retorted; “for me and that precious lout of a friend of yours. You think him so grand and brave! Ah well! wait a bit and see. When people don’t know their proper place they must be taught it.”

Mavis drew herself up.

“Yes,” she said, “wewillwait a bit and see. But it won’t be the sort of seeing you’ll like perhaps.”

“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 dohope,” she added to herself, “that it will be fine to-morrow; it is so much better for children when they can get out.”

Itwasfine “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, ifonlyBertrand 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—“wemaymeet 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 aboutyou. 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.“What will gran think?” he said to himself.“And, if these naughty children try to play him any trick. I know Ruby more than half believes all that nonsense about his being a wizard and about the mermaids, and Bertrand will egg her on.”He went to the window and stood looking out, trying to keep down the dreadful restlesscagedfeeling which began to come over him.“How can I bear it?” he said. “If I had tools now, and could pick the lock; but some of these old locks are very strong, and I have nothing. If only I had wings;” and he gazed again out of the window.When he turned round, though it was quite bright and sunny outside, it almost seemed as if the evening haze had somehow got into the room before its time. It was filled with a thin bluish mist. Winfried’s eyes brightened.“My princess!” he exclaimed. “Are you there?” A little laugh answered him, and gradually the mist drew together and into shape, and Forget-me-not stood before him.“My boy,” she exclaimed, “I am surprised at you. Why, you were looking quite depressed!”Winfried reddened.“It was the horrid feeling of being locked up,” he said. “I never felt it before, and—it seems such a shame, such a mean trick. I wouldn’t have minded a stand-up fight with any fellow, but—”“Of course you wouldn’t; but you’ve got a good bit farther thanthat, I hope, Winfried,” she said with a smile. “And besides, Bertrand is much smaller than you. But it had to be, you know. I have explained enough to you—you and little Mavis;—it had to be.”Winfried started.“That’s another thing,” he said. “I am uneasy about her. What will they do? They don’t understand the boat, you know, princess, and she is alone with them.”Forget-me-not smiled again.“How faithless you are to-day, Winfried,” she said. “Mavis will be getting before you if you don’t take care, simple and ignorant as she is. Can’t you trust her to me?” And as the boy’s face brightened.“Come,” she said, “I see you are recovering your usual ground, so I will tell you how I am going to do. But first, shut your eyes, Winfried; and here, wrap the end of my scarf round you. You might feel giddy still, though it’s not the first time. Ready?—that’s right—there now, give me your hand—we’re up on the window ledge. You were wishing for wings—isn’t this as good as wings?”Bertrand rushed down—as much as he could rush, that is to say, over the steep and rough path—to the shore where the sisters were waiting.“Have you got it?” asked Mavis eagerly.“What?” asked Bertrand, out of breath.“What? Why, Ruby’s cross, of course, that you went for. And where is Winfried?”“All right,” said Bertrand, in a curious voice; “he’s coming directly. We’re to get into the boat and go on a little way, keeping near the shore. He’s coming down another way.”(Yes, Bertrand, that he is!)Mavis looked up anxiously.“And the cross?” she said.“Winfried’s got it,” he said. Which was true. Then he turned away, the fact being that he was so choking with laughter that he was afraid of betraying himself.“Ruby,” he called, “come and helpmeto drag the boat a little nearer;” and as Ruby came close he whispered to her, “I’ve done it—splendidly—he’s shut up in his tower! Locked in, and the locks are good strong ones—now we can have a jolly good spree without that prig of a fellow. Only don’t let Mavis know till we’re safe out in the boat.”Ruby jumped with pleasure.“What fun!” she exclaimed. “How capital! You have been clever, Bertrand. But take care, or Mavis will suspect something. Quick, Mavis,” she went on, turning to her sister, “help us to pull in the boat. There, we can jump in now, Bertrand. You and Mavis steady it while I spring;” and in another moment she was in the boat, where her sister and Bertrand soon followed her.All seemed well; the sky was clear and bright, the sun still shining. The faces of two of the party were sparkling with glee and triumph. But Mavis looked frightened and dissatisfied.“I wish Winfried had come back with you, Bertrand,” she said. “Why didn’t he? Did cousin Hortensia keep him for anything?”“Goodness, no,” said Bertrand. “What a fuss you make, child! He’s all right; you can look out for him, and tell me if you see him coming. I shall have enough to do with rowing you two.”“Winfried doesn’t find the boat hard to row,” said Mavis; “it’s your own fault if it is hard. You might as well wait for him; he’d see us as he comes down the cliffs.”“Oh no, that would be nonsense,” said Ruby hastily; “besides, he’s not coming that way. You heard Bertrand say so.Icould row too, Bertrand,” she went on.But the boy had already got his oars in motion, and though he was neither skilful nor experienced, strange to say the little boat glided on with the utmost ease and smoothness.“There now,” said Bertrand, considerably surprised, to tell the truth, at his own success, “didn’t I tell you I could row?”“No,” said Mavis bluntly, “you said just this moment you’d have enough to do to manage it.”“Mavis, why are you so cross?” said Ruby. “It is such a pity to spoil everything.”She spoke very smoothly and almost coaxingly, but Mavis looked her straight in the eyes, and Ruby grew uncomfortable and turned away. But just then a new misgiving struck Mavis.“Bertrand,” she cried, “either you can’t manage the boat, or you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not keeping near the shore as you said you would. You’re going right out to sea;” and she jumped up as if she would have snatched the oars from him.“Sit down, Mavis,” said Ruby. “I’m sure you know you should never jump about in a boat. It’s all right. Don’t you know there’s—there’s a current hereabouts?” Current or no,somethingthere was, besides Bertrand’s rowing, that was rapidly carrying them away farther and farther from the shore. Mavis looked at Bertrand, not sure whether he could help himself or not. But—“Winfried wouldn’t have told you to keep near the shore if you couldn’t,” she said; “he knows all about the currents.”Bertrand turned with a rude laugh.“Does he indeed?” he said. “It’s more than I do; but all the same this current, or whatever it is that is taking us out so fast, has come just at the right minute. I never meant to keep near in, there’s no fun in that. We’re going a jolly good way out, and when we’re tired of it we’ll come back and land close to the old wizard’s cottage. Ruby and I are going to play him a trick; we want to catch him with the mermaids Ruby heard singing the other day. If we set the villagers on him, they’ll soon make an end of him and his precious grandson.”“Yes,” said Ruby spitefully; “and a good riddance they’d be. That Winfried setting himself up over us all.”Mavis grew pale.“Ruby; Bertrand,” she said, “you cannot mean to be so wicked. You know the villagers are already set against old Adam rather, even though he has been so good to them, and if you stir them up—they might kill him if they really thought he was a wizard.”“We’re not going to do anything till we know for ourselves,” said Ruby. “We’re first going to the cottage really to find out if it’s true. You know yourself, Mavis, wedidhear some one singing and speaking there the other day who wasn’t to be seen when we got there. And I believe itwasa mermaid, or—or a syren, or some witchy sort of creature.” Mavis was silent. She had her own thoughts about the voice they had overheard, thoughts which she could not share with the others.“Oh, dear Princess Forget-me-not,” she said to her self, “why don’t you make them see you, and understand how naughty they are?”For the moment she had forgotten the princess’s promise that neither Winfried nor his grandfather should suffer any harm, and she felt terribly frightened and unhappy.“Where is Winfried?” she said at last. “He will see us going out to sea when he comes down to the shore, and if he tells cousin Hortensia she can easily get some of the fishermen to come after us. They can row far quicker than you.”Bertrand stopped rowing to laugh more rudely than before.“Canthey?” he said. “I doubt it. And as for Winfried telling—why, he doesn’t know; he’s locked in safe and sound in the west turret! He’ll be quite comfortable there for as long as I choose to leave him, and however he shouts no one can hear him. Not that there’s much fear of any of those lumbering boats overtaking us if they tried—why—”He took up the oars again as he spoke, but before he began to row he half started and glanced round. No wonder; the boat was gliding out to sea without his help, quite as fast as when he was rowing.“How—how it drifts!” he said in a rather queer tone of voice. “Is there a current hereabouts, Ruby?”“I suppose so,” said Ruby. “Try and row the other way, that’ll soon show you.”But it was all very well to speak of “trying.” No efforts of Bertrand’s had the very slightest effect on the boat. On it sped, faster and faster, as if laughing at him, dancing along the water as if it were alive and enjoying the joke. Bertrand grew angry, then, by degrees, frightened.“It isn’t my fault,” he said. “I don’t pretend to know all about the currents and tides and nonsense. You shouldn’t have let me come out here, Ruby?”Ruby was terrified, but angry too.“It isn’tmyfault,” she said. “You planned it all; you know you did. And if we’re all—”“Be quiet, Ruby,” said Mavis, who alone of the three was perfectly calm and composed. “If it stops you and Bertrand carrying out your naughty plan, I am very glad if we are taken out to sea.”“That’stoobad of you,” said Ruby, angry in spite of her terror. “I believe you’d rather we were drowned than that your precious Winfried and his grandfather should get what they deserve. And wearegoing to be drowned, or any way starved to death. We’re going faster and faster. Oh, I do believe there must be a whirlpool somewhere near here, and that we are going to be sucked into it.”She began to sob and cry. Bertrand, to do him justice, put a good face upon it. He looked pale but determined.“This is what comes of having to do with people like that,” he said vindictively. “I believe he’s bewitched the boat to spite us. I’ll have another try, however.”But it was all no use. The boat, slight and fragile as it seemed, resisted his efforts as if it were a living thing opposing him. Crimson with heat and vexation, the boy muttered some words, which it was to be hoped the girls did not catch, and flung down the oars in a rage. One fell inside, the other was just slipping over the edge when Mavis caught it. Strange to say, no sooner was it in her hold than the motion stopped; the boat lay still and passive on the water, swaying gently as if waiting for orders.“We’ve got out of the current,” exclaimed Ruby. “Try, Mavis, can you turn it?”It hardly seemed to need trying. The boat turned almost, as it were, of itself, and in another moment they were quietly moving towards the shore. Nor did it seem to make any difference when Bertrand took the oars from Mavis and resumed his rowing.“If I only waited another moment,” he said. “We got out of the current just as you caught the oar, Mavis.”She shook her head doubtfully.“I don’t know. I don’t think it was that,” she said. “But any way now it is all right again, and we are going back, you and Bertrand, Ruby, will not think of playing any trick, or setting the villagers on to old Adam.”“Why not, pray?” said Bertrand. “And—”“I don’t see what has made any difference,” said Ruby pertly. “Suppose the horrid things had bewitched the boat, is that any reason for not showing them up? You think it’s all your wonderful cleverness that got the boat round, do you, Mavis?”“No, I don’t. I think a good many things I’m not going to tell you,” said the little girl. “But one thing I will tell you,Iwill not leave the boat or come on shore unless you promise me to give up your naughty cruel plan.”She spoke so firmly that Ruby was startled. And indeed her own words seemed to surprise Mavis herself. It was as if some one were whispering to her what to say. But on Bertrand they made no impression.“You won’t, won’t you?” he said. “Ah, well, we’ll see to that.”They were close to the shore by this time. The marvellous boat had “got over the ground,” I was going to say—I mean thewater—even more quickly than when going out to sea. And in another minute, thanks to something—no doubt Bertrand thought it was thanks to his wonderful skill—they glided quietly into the little landing-place where Winfried had brought them two days ago.Up jumped Ruby.“That’s capital,” she said. “We can easily make out way to the old wizard’s cottage from here. And before we peep in on him himself, Bertrand, we may as well look round his garden, as he calls it. It is the queerest place you ever saw, full of caves and grottoes.” Both Bertrand and she had jumped on shore.“Come on, Mavis,” cried they. “What are you so slow about?”For Mavis sat perfectly still in her place.“I am not coming on shore,” she said quietly, “not unless you promise to give up whatever mischief it is that you are planning.”“Nonsense,” said Bertrand. “You justshallcome; tell her she must, Ruby, you’re the eldest.”“Come, Mavis,” said Ruby. “You’d better come, for everybody’s sake, I can tell you,” she added meaningly. “If you’re there you can look after your precious old wizard. I won’t promise anything.”“No,” Mavis repeated. “I will not come. We have no right to go forcing ourselves into his cottage. It is as much his as the castle is ours, and you know you have locked up Winfried on purpose so that he can’t get out. No, I will not go with you.”“Then stay,” shouted Bertrand, “and take the consequences.”And he dragged Ruby back from the boat.

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

“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.

“What will gran think?” he said to himself.

“And, if these naughty children try to play him any trick. I know Ruby more than half believes all that nonsense about his being a wizard and about the mermaids, and Bertrand will egg her on.”

He went to the window and stood looking out, trying to keep down the dreadful restlesscagedfeeling which began to come over him.

“How can I bear it?” he said. “If I had tools now, and could pick the lock; but some of these old locks are very strong, and I have nothing. If only I had wings;” and he gazed again out of the window.

When he turned round, though it was quite bright and sunny outside, it almost seemed as if the evening haze had somehow got into the room before its time. It was filled with a thin bluish mist. Winfried’s eyes brightened.

“My princess!” he exclaimed. “Are you there?” A little laugh answered him, and gradually the mist drew together and into shape, and Forget-me-not stood before him.

“My boy,” she exclaimed, “I am surprised at you. Why, you were looking quite depressed!”

Winfried reddened.

“It was the horrid feeling of being locked up,” he said. “I never felt it before, and—it seems such a shame, such a mean trick. I wouldn’t have minded a stand-up fight with any fellow, but—”

“Of course you wouldn’t; but you’ve got a good bit farther thanthat, I hope, Winfried,” she said with a smile. “And besides, Bertrand is much smaller than you. But it had to be, you know. I have explained enough to you—you and little Mavis;—it had to be.”

Winfried started.

“That’s another thing,” he said. “I am uneasy about her. What will they do? They don’t understand the boat, you know, princess, and she is alone with them.”

Forget-me-not smiled again.

“How faithless you are to-day, Winfried,” she said. “Mavis will be getting before you if you don’t take care, simple and ignorant as she is. Can’t you trust her to me?” And as the boy’s face brightened.

“Come,” she said, “I see you are recovering your usual ground, so I will tell you how I am going to do. But first, shut your eyes, Winfried; and here, wrap the end of my scarf round you. You might feel giddy still, though it’s not the first time. Ready?—that’s right—there now, give me your hand—we’re up on the window ledge. You were wishing for wings—isn’t this as good as wings?”

Bertrand rushed down—as much as he could rush, that is to say, over the steep and rough path—to the shore where the sisters were waiting.

“Have you got it?” asked Mavis eagerly.

“What?” asked Bertrand, out of breath.

“What? Why, Ruby’s cross, of course, that you went for. And where is Winfried?”

“All right,” said Bertrand, in a curious voice; “he’s coming directly. We’re to get into the boat and go on a little way, keeping near the shore. He’s coming down another way.”

(Yes, Bertrand, that he is!)

Mavis looked up anxiously.

“And the cross?” she said.

“Winfried’s got it,” he said. Which was true. Then he turned away, the fact being that he was so choking with laughter that he was afraid of betraying himself.

“Ruby,” he called, “come and helpmeto drag the boat a little nearer;” and as Ruby came close he whispered to her, “I’ve done it—splendidly—he’s shut up in his tower! Locked in, and the locks are good strong ones—now we can have a jolly good spree without that prig of a fellow. Only don’t let Mavis know till we’re safe out in the boat.”

Ruby jumped with pleasure.

“What fun!” she exclaimed. “How capital! You have been clever, Bertrand. But take care, or Mavis will suspect something. Quick, Mavis,” she went on, turning to her sister, “help us to pull in the boat. There, we can jump in now, Bertrand. You and Mavis steady it while I spring;” and in another moment she was in the boat, where her sister and Bertrand soon followed her.

All seemed well; the sky was clear and bright, the sun still shining. The faces of two of the party were sparkling with glee and triumph. But Mavis looked frightened and dissatisfied.

“I wish Winfried had come back with you, Bertrand,” she said. “Why didn’t he? Did cousin Hortensia keep him for anything?”

“Goodness, no,” said Bertrand. “What a fuss you make, child! He’s all right; you can look out for him, and tell me if you see him coming. I shall have enough to do with rowing you two.”

“Winfried doesn’t find the boat hard to row,” said Mavis; “it’s your own fault if it is hard. You might as well wait for him; he’d see us as he comes down the cliffs.”

“Oh no, that would be nonsense,” said Ruby hastily; “besides, he’s not coming that way. You heard Bertrand say so.Icould row too, Bertrand,” she went on.

But the boy had already got his oars in motion, and though he was neither skilful nor experienced, strange to say the little boat glided on with the utmost ease and smoothness.

“There now,” said Bertrand, considerably surprised, to tell the truth, at his own success, “didn’t I tell you I could row?”

“No,” said Mavis bluntly, “you said just this moment you’d have enough to do to manage it.”

“Mavis, why are you so cross?” said Ruby. “It is such a pity to spoil everything.”

She spoke very smoothly and almost coaxingly, but Mavis looked her straight in the eyes, and Ruby grew uncomfortable and turned away. But just then a new misgiving struck Mavis.

“Bertrand,” she cried, “either you can’t manage the boat, or you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not keeping near the shore as you said you would. You’re going right out to sea;” and she jumped up as if she would have snatched the oars from him.

“Sit down, Mavis,” said Ruby. “I’m sure you know you should never jump about in a boat. It’s all right. Don’t you know there’s—there’s a current hereabouts?” Current or no,somethingthere was, besides Bertrand’s rowing, that was rapidly carrying them away farther and farther from the shore. Mavis looked at Bertrand, not sure whether he could help himself or not. But—

“Winfried wouldn’t have told you to keep near the shore if you couldn’t,” she said; “he knows all about the currents.”

Bertrand turned with a rude laugh.

“Does he indeed?” he said. “It’s more than I do; but all the same this current, or whatever it is that is taking us out so fast, has come just at the right minute. I never meant to keep near in, there’s no fun in that. We’re going a jolly good way out, and when we’re tired of it we’ll come back and land close to the old wizard’s cottage. Ruby and I are going to play him a trick; we want to catch him with the mermaids Ruby heard singing the other day. If we set the villagers on him, they’ll soon make an end of him and his precious grandson.”

“Yes,” said Ruby spitefully; “and a good riddance they’d be. That Winfried setting himself up over us all.”

Mavis grew pale.

“Ruby; Bertrand,” she said, “you cannot mean to be so wicked. You know the villagers are already set against old Adam rather, even though he has been so good to them, and if you stir them up—they might kill him if they really thought he was a wizard.”

“We’re not going to do anything till we know for ourselves,” said Ruby. “We’re first going to the cottage really to find out if it’s true. You know yourself, Mavis, wedidhear some one singing and speaking there the other day who wasn’t to be seen when we got there. And I believe itwasa mermaid, or—or a syren, or some witchy sort of creature.” Mavis was silent. She had her own thoughts about the voice they had overheard, thoughts which she could not share with the others.

“Oh, dear Princess Forget-me-not,” she said to her self, “why don’t you make them see you, and understand how naughty they are?”

For the moment she had forgotten the princess’s promise that neither Winfried nor his grandfather should suffer any harm, and she felt terribly frightened and unhappy.

“Where is Winfried?” she said at last. “He will see us going out to sea when he comes down to the shore, and if he tells cousin Hortensia she can easily get some of the fishermen to come after us. They can row far quicker than you.”

Bertrand stopped rowing to laugh more rudely than before.

“Canthey?” he said. “I doubt it. And as for Winfried telling—why, he doesn’t know; he’s locked in safe and sound in the west turret! He’ll be quite comfortable there for as long as I choose to leave him, and however he shouts no one can hear him. Not that there’s much fear of any of those lumbering boats overtaking us if they tried—why—”

He took up the oars again as he spoke, but before he began to row he half started and glanced round. No wonder; the boat was gliding out to sea without his help, quite as fast as when he was rowing.

“How—how it drifts!” he said in a rather queer tone of voice. “Is there a current hereabouts, Ruby?”

“I suppose so,” said Ruby. “Try and row the other way, that’ll soon show you.”

But it was all very well to speak of “trying.” No efforts of Bertrand’s had the very slightest effect on the boat. On it sped, faster and faster, as if laughing at him, dancing along the water as if it were alive and enjoying the joke. Bertrand grew angry, then, by degrees, frightened.

“It isn’t my fault,” he said. “I don’t pretend to know all about the currents and tides and nonsense. You shouldn’t have let me come out here, Ruby?”

Ruby was terrified, but angry too.

“It isn’tmyfault,” she said. “You planned it all; you know you did. And if we’re all—”

“Be quiet, Ruby,” said Mavis, who alone of the three was perfectly calm and composed. “If it stops you and Bertrand carrying out your naughty plan, I am very glad if we are taken out to sea.”

“That’stoobad of you,” said Ruby, angry in spite of her terror. “I believe you’d rather we were drowned than that your precious Winfried and his grandfather should get what they deserve. And wearegoing to be drowned, or any way starved to death. We’re going faster and faster. Oh, I do believe there must be a whirlpool somewhere near here, and that we are going to be sucked into it.”

She began to sob and cry. Bertrand, to do him justice, put a good face upon it. He looked pale but determined.

“This is what comes of having to do with people like that,” he said vindictively. “I believe he’s bewitched the boat to spite us. I’ll have another try, however.”

But it was all no use. The boat, slight and fragile as it seemed, resisted his efforts as if it were a living thing opposing him. Crimson with heat and vexation, the boy muttered some words, which it was to be hoped the girls did not catch, and flung down the oars in a rage. One fell inside, the other was just slipping over the edge when Mavis caught it. Strange to say, no sooner was it in her hold than the motion stopped; the boat lay still and passive on the water, swaying gently as if waiting for orders.

“We’ve got out of the current,” exclaimed Ruby. “Try, Mavis, can you turn it?”

It hardly seemed to need trying. The boat turned almost, as it were, of itself, and in another moment they were quietly moving towards the shore. Nor did it seem to make any difference when Bertrand took the oars from Mavis and resumed his rowing.

“If I only waited another moment,” he said. “We got out of the current just as you caught the oar, Mavis.”

She shook her head doubtfully.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it was that,” she said. “But any way now it is all right again, and we are going back, you and Bertrand, Ruby, will not think of playing any trick, or setting the villagers on to old Adam.”

“Why not, pray?” said Bertrand. “And—”

“I don’t see what has made any difference,” said Ruby pertly. “Suppose the horrid things had bewitched the boat, is that any reason for not showing them up? You think it’s all your wonderful cleverness that got the boat round, do you, Mavis?”

“No, I don’t. I think a good many things I’m not going to tell you,” said the little girl. “But one thing I will tell you,Iwill not leave the boat or come on shore unless you promise me to give up your naughty cruel plan.”

She spoke so firmly that Ruby was startled. And indeed her own words seemed to surprise Mavis herself. It was as if some one were whispering to her what to say. But on Bertrand they made no impression.

“You won’t, won’t you?” he said. “Ah, well, we’ll see to that.”

They were close to the shore by this time. The marvellous boat had “got over the ground,” I was going to say—I mean thewater—even more quickly than when going out to sea. And in another minute, thanks to something—no doubt Bertrand thought it was thanks to his wonderful skill—they glided quietly into the little landing-place where Winfried had brought them two days ago.

Up jumped Ruby.

“That’s capital,” she said. “We can easily make out way to the old wizard’s cottage from here. And before we peep in on him himself, Bertrand, we may as well look round his garden, as he calls it. It is the queerest place you ever saw, full of caves and grottoes.” Both Bertrand and she had jumped on shore.

“Come on, Mavis,” cried they. “What are you so slow about?”

For Mavis sat perfectly still in her place.

“I am not coming on shore,” she said quietly, “not unless you promise to give up whatever mischief it is that you are planning.”

“Nonsense,” said Bertrand. “You justshallcome; tell her she must, Ruby, you’re the eldest.”

“Come, Mavis,” said Ruby. “You’d better come, for everybody’s sake, I can tell you,” she added meaningly. “If you’re there you can look after your precious old wizard. I won’t promise anything.”

“No,” Mavis repeated. “I will not come. We have no right to go forcing ourselves into his cottage. It is as much his as the castle is ours, and you know you have locked up Winfried on purpose so that he can’t get out. No, I will not go with you.”

“Then stay,” shouted Bertrand, “and take the consequences.”

And he dragged Ruby back from the boat.

Chapter Nine.Beginnings?“Very wrong, very wrong,Very wrong and bad.”Child World.“Let’s run on fast a little way,” said Bertrand, “to make her think we won’t wait for her. That will frighten her, and she will run after us, you’ll see. Don’t look round, Ruby.”In his heart he really did not believe that Mavis would change her mind or run after them. And he did not care. Indeed, he much preferred having Ruby alone, as he knew he could far more easily persuade her by herself to join in his mischievous schemes. But he felt that she was half-hearted about leaving her sister, and so he did not hesitate to trick her too.They hurried on for some distance. Then Ruby, who was growing both tired and cross, pulled her hand away from Bertrand.“Stop,” she said. “I’m quite out of breath. And I want to see if Mavis is coming.”Bertrand had to give in. They were on higher ground than the shore, and could see it clearly. There lay the little boat as they had left it, and Mavis sitting in it calmly. To all appearance at least.“She’s not coming—not a bit of her,” exclaimed Ruby angrily. “I don’t believe you thought she would, Bertrand.”“Shewillcome, you’ll see,” said the boy, “and even if she doesn’t, what does it matter? We’ll run on and spy out the old wizard and have some fun. Mavis will stay there safe enough till we get back.”“I thought you meant to go home by the village and tell the people about old Adam, if wedosee anything queer,” said Ruby.“So I did, but if you’re in such a fidget about Mavis perhaps we’d better go home as we came, and not say anything in the village to-day. I’d like to see what Master Winfried has been up to when we get back. Perhaps he’ll have got some old witch to lend him a broomstick, and we shall find him flown;” and Bertrand laughed scornfully.Ruby laughed too.“I don’t think that’s likely,” she said. “But there’s no telling. I do wish he and his grandfather were out of the country altogether. There’s something about Winfried that makes me feel furious. Heissuch a prig; and he’s even got cousin Hortensia to think him a piece of perfection.”“He may take his perfections elsewhere, and he shall, too,” said Bertrand. And the fierceness of his tone almost startled even Ruby.They were not far from the old fisherman’s cottage by this time. They stopped again to take breath. Mavis and the boat were not visible from where they stood, for the path went in and out among the rocks, and just here some large projecting boulders hid the shore from sight.Suddenly, as if it came from some cave beneath their feet, both children grew conscious of a faint sound as of distant music. And every moment it became clearer and louder even though muffled. Bertrand and Ruby looked at each other.“Mermaids!” both exclaimed.“They always sing,” said Bertrand.“Yes,” added Ruby, with her old confusion of ideas about syrens; “and they make people go after them by their singing, and then they catch them and kill them, and I’m not sure but what theyeatthem. I know I’ve read something about bare dry bones being found. Shall we put our fingers in our ears, Bertrand?” She looked quite pale with fear.“Nonsense,” said the boy. “That’s only sailors at sea. They lure them in among the rocks. We’re quite safe on dry land. Besides, I don’t think it’smermaidsthat do that. They’re miserable crying creatures; but I don’t think they kill people.”The subterraneous music came nearer and nearer. Somehow the children could nothelplistening.“Didn’t you say you and Mavis heard singing the day you were here before—at the wizard’s cottage, I mean?” said Bertrand.“N-no, not exactly singing. It was laughing, and a voice calling out good-bye in a singing way,” answered Ruby.As if in response to her words, the ringing suddenly stopped, and from below their feet—precisely below it seemed—came the sound of ringing, silvery laughter, clear and unmistakable.“Oh,” cried Ruby, “come away, Bertrand. I’m sure it’s the mermaids, and theywillcatch us and kill us, you’ll see.”Her boasted courage had not come to much. And yet there was nothing very alarming in the pretty sounds they had heard.“And what if it is the mermaids?” said Bertrand coolly. “We came out to catch them, didn’t we? It’s just what we wanted. Come along, Ruby. How do we get to the cottage? There seems to be a sort of wall in front.”“We go round by the back,” said Ruby. “It’s there there are the queer grottoes and little caves. But you won’t go far into them, will you, Bertrand? For I am not at all sure but that the mermaids come up from the sea through these caves; you see theydocome some underground way.”Bertrand gave a sort of grunt. What Ruby said only made him the more determined to explore as far as he possibly could.They entered the strange little garden I have already described without further adventure. There seemed no one about, no sound of any kind broke the almost unnatural stillness.“Howveryquiet it is,” said Ruby with a little shiver. “And there’s no smoke coming out of the chimney—there was the last time, for there was a good fire in the kitchen where old Adam was.”And as she said this there came over her the remembrance of the kind old man’s gentle hospitality and interest in them. Why had she taken such a hatred to Winfried and his grandfather, especially since Bertrand’s arrival? She could not have given any real reason.“I hope he isn’t very ill—or—dead,” she said, dropping her voice. “And Winfried locked up and not able to get to him. It would be our fault, Bertrand.”“Nonsense,” said Bertrand roughly, with his usual scornful contempt of any softer feelings. “He’s fallen asleep over his pipe and glass of grog. I daresay he drinks lots of grog—those fellows always do.”“I’m surehedoesn’t,” contradicted Ruby, feeling angry with herself as well as Bertrand. “Let’s go to the window and peep in before we look at the caves.”She ran round to the front, followed by her cousin, taking care to make as little sound as possible. She remembered on which side of the door was the kitchen, and softly approached what she knew must be its window. But how surprised she was when she looked in! It was the kitchen; she remembered the shape of the room; she recognised the neat little fireplace, but all was completely deserted. Every trace of furniture had disappeared; old Adam’s large chair by the hearth might never have been in existence, well as she remembered it. Except that it was clean and swept, the room might not have, been inhabited for years.Ruby turned to Bertrand, who was staring in at another window.“I say, Ruby,” he whispered, “the room over here is quite—”“I know,” she said. “So is the kitchen. They’re gone, Bertrand, quite gone, and we’ve had all our trouble for nothing. It’s too bad.”“They!” repeated Bertrand, “you can’t saythey, when you know that Winfried is locked up in the turret-room.”“Oh,” exclaimed Ruby starting, “I quite forgot. He must have hidden his grandfather somewhere. And yet I don’t see how they could have managed it so quietly. We always know when any of the village people are moving their furniture; they send to borrow our carts.”“Well,” said Bertrand, “there’s one thing certain. If you didn’t believe it before, you must now; I should think even Mavis would—the old fellowisa wizard, and so’s his precious grandson.”“Shall we go into the house?” said Ruby, though she looked half afraid to do so.“Isn’t the door locked?” said Bertrand, trying it as he spoke. It yielded to his touch; he went in, followed, though tremblingly, by Ruby.But after all there was little or nothing to see; the three rooms, though scrupulously clean, even the windows shining bright and polished, were perfectly empty. As the children strolled back to the kitchen, annoyed and disappointed, feeling, to tell the truth, rather small, something caught Ruby’s eye in one corner of the room. It was a small object, gleaming bright and blue on the white stones of the floor. She ran forward and picked it up, it was a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots tied with a scrap of ribbon; the same large brilliant kind of forget-me-not as those which she and Mavis had so admired on their first visit to the now deserted cottage. She gave a little cry.“Look, Bertrand,” she said, “they can’t have been long gone. These flowers are quite fresh. I wonder where they came from. They must have been growing in a pot in the house, for there are none in the garden. I looked as we came through.”Bertrand glanced at the flowers carelessly.“Wizards,” he began, “can—”But his sentence was never finished. For as he spoke there came a sudden gust of wind down the wide chimney, so loud and furious that it was as startling as a clap of thunder. Then it subsided again, but for a moment or two a long low wail sounded overhead, gradually dying away in the distance.“What was that?” said Bertrand. While the sounds lasted both children had stood perfectly still.“The wind of course,” said Ruby. She was more accustomed than her cousin to the unexpected vagaries of the storm spirits so near the sea, still even she seemed startled. “It’s often like that,” she was beginning to say, but she hesitated. “Itwasvery loud,” she added.“There must be rough weather coming,” said Bertrand. “We’d better go home by the road, I think, Ruby.”“We,” exclaimed Ruby indignantly. “Do you mean you and me, Bertrand? And what about Mavis?”“She can come on shore,” replied the boy carelessly. “She knows where we are. It’s her own fault. Come along, there’s nothing to wait for in this empty old hole. I want you to show me the caves outside.”“I’ll try to signal to Mavis first,” said Ruby. “I’ll tie my handkerchief to a stick and wave it about. She can see us up here quite well, and perhaps when she finds we’re alone she’ll come.”They left the cottage, and Ruby got out her handkerchief. But it was small use. For just as they stepped on to the rough little terrace in front from whence they could clearly see the shore, there came another and even—it seemed so at least now they were standing outside—more violent blast. It was all Ruby could do to keep her feet, and when she recovered from the giddying effect of the wind she was still breathless and shaken. And that the hurricane was gathering strength every second was plain to be seen; the waves were dashing in excitedly, the sky at one side had that strange lurid purple colour which foretells great disturbance.But it was not these things only which made Ruby turn pale and shiver.“Bertrand,” she gasped, “I don’t know if there’s something the matter with my eyes, I can’t see clearly—Bertrand—look—where is Mavis—Mavis and the boat; can you see them?”Bertrand shaded his brow with his hand and gazed.“’Pon my soul,” he said, “it’s very odd.Ican’t see them. And there’s not been time for Mavis to have rowed out to sea or even to have drifted out; we can see right out ever so far, and there’s no boat; not a sign of one.”“Can—can she have landed and dragged the boat ashore somehow?” said Ruby, her teeth chattering with cold and fear.“No,” said Bertrand, “we’d certainly see her and the boat in that case.”“Then, where is she?” cried Ruby. “Bertrand, you must care. What do you think has become of her?”“Can’t say, I’m sure,” said the boy. “The boat may have capsized: the sea’s awfully rough now.”“Do you mean that Mavis may be drowned or drowning?” screamed Ruby. She had to scream, even had she been less terribly excited, for the roar of wind was on them again, and her voice was scarcely audible.“I don’t see that she need be drowned,” said Bertrand. “It’s shallow. Shemayhave crept on shore, and be lying somewhere among those big stones; and if not, can’t your precious wizard friends look after her? She’s fond enough of them.”He was partly in earnest; but Ruby took it all as cruel heartless mocking. She turned upon him furiously.“You’re a brutal wicked boy,” she screamed. “I wish you were drowned; I wish you had never come near us; I wish—” she stopped, choked by her fury and misery, and by the wind which came tearing round again.Bertrand came close to her.“As you’re so busy wishing,” he called into her ear, “you’d better wish you hadn’t done what you have done yourself. It was all you who started the plan, and settled how we were to trick Winfried into the turret-room; you know you did.”“And did I plan to drown Mavis, my own darling little sister?” returned Ruby as well as she could speak between her sobs and breathlessness. “Come down to the shore with me this moment and help me to look for her, if you’re not altogether a cruel heartless bully.”“Not I,” said Bertrand, “we’d probably get drowned ourselves. Just see how the waves come leaping in; they look as if they were alive. I believe it’s all witches’ work together. I’m not going to trust myself down there. Come and show me the grottoes and the caves, Ruby. We may as well shelter in them till the wind goes down a bit. We can’t do Mavis any good; if she’s on the shore she can take care of herself, and if she’s under the waterwecan’t reach her;” and he caught hold of Ruby to pull her along, but she tore herself from his grasp with a wrench.“You wicked, you heartless, brutal boy,” she cried.“I don’t care if I am drowned; I would rather be drowned with Mavis than stay alive with you.”And almost before Bertrand knew what she was doing, Ruby was rushing through the little garden at the back of the cottage on her way to descend the rough path to the shore.He stood looking after her coolly for a moment or two with his hands in his pockets. He tried to whistle, but it was not very successful; the wind had the best of it.“I don’t believe Mavis has come to any harm,” he said aloud, though speaking to himself, and almost as if trying to excuse his own conduct. “Anyway, I don’t see that it’s my business to look after her, it was all her own obstinacy.”He kicked roughly at the pebbles at his feet, and as he did so, his glance fell on a tiny speck of colour just where he was kicking. It was one of the blue flowers Ruby had found in the cottage. Bertrand stooped and picked it up, and, strange to say, he handled it gently. But as he looked at it there came again to him the queer smarting pain in his eyes which he had complained of in the turret-room, and glancing up he became aware that the wind had suddenly gone down, everything had become almost unnaturally still, while a thin bluish haze seemed gathering closely round where he stood. Bertrand rubbed his eyes.“There can’t be smoke here,” he said. “What can be the matter with my eyes?” and he rubbed them impatiently. It did no good.“No, that will do no good,” said a voice. It seemed quite near him.“Look up;” and in spite of himself the boy could not help looking up.“Oh,” he screamed; “oh, what is it? what is it?”For an agony, short but indescribable, had darted through his eyeballs, piercing, it seemed to him, to his very brain; and Bertrand was not in some ways a cowardly boy.There was silence, perfect, dead silence, and gradually the intense aching, which the short terrible pain had left, began to subside. As it did so, and Bertrand ventured to look up again, he saw that—what he had seen, he could not describe it better—was gone, the haze had disappeared, the air was again clear, but far from still, for round the corner of the old cottage the blast now came rushing and tearing, as if infuriated at having been for a moment obliged to keep back; and with it now came the rain, such rain as the inland-bred boy had never seen before—blinding, drenching, lashing rain, whose drops seemed to cut and sting, with such force did they fall. It added to his confusion and bewilderment. Like a hunted animal he turned and ran, anywhere to get shelter; and soon he found himself behind the house, and then the thought of the grottoes the little girls had told him of returned to his mind.“I won’t go back into that witches’ hole,” he said to himself as he glanced back at the house. “I’ll shelter in one of the grottoes.”As he thought this he caught sight of an opening in the rockery before him. It was the entrance to the very cave where Mavis had been left by Ruby. Bertrand ran in; what happened to him there you shall hear in good time.

“Very wrong, very wrong,Very wrong and bad.”Child World.

“Very wrong, very wrong,Very wrong and bad.”Child World.

“Let’s run on fast a little way,” said Bertrand, “to make her think we won’t wait for her. That will frighten her, and she will run after us, you’ll see. Don’t look round, Ruby.”

In his heart he really did not believe that Mavis would change her mind or run after them. And he did not care. Indeed, he much preferred having Ruby alone, as he knew he could far more easily persuade her by herself to join in his mischievous schemes. But he felt that she was half-hearted about leaving her sister, and so he did not hesitate to trick her too.

They hurried on for some distance. Then Ruby, who was growing both tired and cross, pulled her hand away from Bertrand.

“Stop,” she said. “I’m quite out of breath. And I want to see if Mavis is coming.”

Bertrand had to give in. They were on higher ground than the shore, and could see it clearly. There lay the little boat as they had left it, and Mavis sitting in it calmly. To all appearance at least.

“She’s not coming—not a bit of her,” exclaimed Ruby angrily. “I don’t believe you thought she would, Bertrand.”

“Shewillcome, you’ll see,” said the boy, “and even if she doesn’t, what does it matter? We’ll run on and spy out the old wizard and have some fun. Mavis will stay there safe enough till we get back.”

“I thought you meant to go home by the village and tell the people about old Adam, if wedosee anything queer,” said Ruby.

“So I did, but if you’re in such a fidget about Mavis perhaps we’d better go home as we came, and not say anything in the village to-day. I’d like to see what Master Winfried has been up to when we get back. Perhaps he’ll have got some old witch to lend him a broomstick, and we shall find him flown;” and Bertrand laughed scornfully.

Ruby laughed too.

“I don’t think that’s likely,” she said. “But there’s no telling. I do wish he and his grandfather were out of the country altogether. There’s something about Winfried that makes me feel furious. Heissuch a prig; and he’s even got cousin Hortensia to think him a piece of perfection.”

“He may take his perfections elsewhere, and he shall, too,” said Bertrand. And the fierceness of his tone almost startled even Ruby.

They were not far from the old fisherman’s cottage by this time. They stopped again to take breath. Mavis and the boat were not visible from where they stood, for the path went in and out among the rocks, and just here some large projecting boulders hid the shore from sight.

Suddenly, as if it came from some cave beneath their feet, both children grew conscious of a faint sound as of distant music. And every moment it became clearer and louder even though muffled. Bertrand and Ruby looked at each other.

“Mermaids!” both exclaimed.

“They always sing,” said Bertrand.

“Yes,” added Ruby, with her old confusion of ideas about syrens; “and they make people go after them by their singing, and then they catch them and kill them, and I’m not sure but what theyeatthem. I know I’ve read something about bare dry bones being found. Shall we put our fingers in our ears, Bertrand?” She looked quite pale with fear.

“Nonsense,” said the boy. “That’s only sailors at sea. They lure them in among the rocks. We’re quite safe on dry land. Besides, I don’t think it’smermaidsthat do that. They’re miserable crying creatures; but I don’t think they kill people.”

The subterraneous music came nearer and nearer. Somehow the children could nothelplistening.

“Didn’t you say you and Mavis heard singing the day you were here before—at the wizard’s cottage, I mean?” said Bertrand.

“N-no, not exactly singing. It was laughing, and a voice calling out good-bye in a singing way,” answered Ruby.

As if in response to her words, the ringing suddenly stopped, and from below their feet—precisely below it seemed—came the sound of ringing, silvery laughter, clear and unmistakable.

“Oh,” cried Ruby, “come away, Bertrand. I’m sure it’s the mermaids, and theywillcatch us and kill us, you’ll see.”

Her boasted courage had not come to much. And yet there was nothing very alarming in the pretty sounds they had heard.

“And what if it is the mermaids?” said Bertrand coolly. “We came out to catch them, didn’t we? It’s just what we wanted. Come along, Ruby. How do we get to the cottage? There seems to be a sort of wall in front.”

“We go round by the back,” said Ruby. “It’s there there are the queer grottoes and little caves. But you won’t go far into them, will you, Bertrand? For I am not at all sure but that the mermaids come up from the sea through these caves; you see theydocome some underground way.”

Bertrand gave a sort of grunt. What Ruby said only made him the more determined to explore as far as he possibly could.

They entered the strange little garden I have already described without further adventure. There seemed no one about, no sound of any kind broke the almost unnatural stillness.

“Howveryquiet it is,” said Ruby with a little shiver. “And there’s no smoke coming out of the chimney—there was the last time, for there was a good fire in the kitchen where old Adam was.”

And as she said this there came over her the remembrance of the kind old man’s gentle hospitality and interest in them. Why had she taken such a hatred to Winfried and his grandfather, especially since Bertrand’s arrival? She could not have given any real reason.

“I hope he isn’t very ill—or—dead,” she said, dropping her voice. “And Winfried locked up and not able to get to him. It would be our fault, Bertrand.”

“Nonsense,” said Bertrand roughly, with his usual scornful contempt of any softer feelings. “He’s fallen asleep over his pipe and glass of grog. I daresay he drinks lots of grog—those fellows always do.”

“I’m surehedoesn’t,” contradicted Ruby, feeling angry with herself as well as Bertrand. “Let’s go to the window and peep in before we look at the caves.”

She ran round to the front, followed by her cousin, taking care to make as little sound as possible. She remembered on which side of the door was the kitchen, and softly approached what she knew must be its window. But how surprised she was when she looked in! It was the kitchen; she remembered the shape of the room; she recognised the neat little fireplace, but all was completely deserted. Every trace of furniture had disappeared; old Adam’s large chair by the hearth might never have been in existence, well as she remembered it. Except that it was clean and swept, the room might not have, been inhabited for years.

Ruby turned to Bertrand, who was staring in at another window.

“I say, Ruby,” he whispered, “the room over here is quite—”

“I know,” she said. “So is the kitchen. They’re gone, Bertrand, quite gone, and we’ve had all our trouble for nothing. It’s too bad.”

“They!” repeated Bertrand, “you can’t saythey, when you know that Winfried is locked up in the turret-room.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Ruby starting, “I quite forgot. He must have hidden his grandfather somewhere. And yet I don’t see how they could have managed it so quietly. We always know when any of the village people are moving their furniture; they send to borrow our carts.”

“Well,” said Bertrand, “there’s one thing certain. If you didn’t believe it before, you must now; I should think even Mavis would—the old fellowisa wizard, and so’s his precious grandson.”

“Shall we go into the house?” said Ruby, though she looked half afraid to do so.

“Isn’t the door locked?” said Bertrand, trying it as he spoke. It yielded to his touch; he went in, followed, though tremblingly, by Ruby.

But after all there was little or nothing to see; the three rooms, though scrupulously clean, even the windows shining bright and polished, were perfectly empty. As the children strolled back to the kitchen, annoyed and disappointed, feeling, to tell the truth, rather small, something caught Ruby’s eye in one corner of the room. It was a small object, gleaming bright and blue on the white stones of the floor. She ran forward and picked it up, it was a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots tied with a scrap of ribbon; the same large brilliant kind of forget-me-not as those which she and Mavis had so admired on their first visit to the now deserted cottage. She gave a little cry.

“Look, Bertrand,” she said, “they can’t have been long gone. These flowers are quite fresh. I wonder where they came from. They must have been growing in a pot in the house, for there are none in the garden. I looked as we came through.”

Bertrand glanced at the flowers carelessly.

“Wizards,” he began, “can—”

But his sentence was never finished. For as he spoke there came a sudden gust of wind down the wide chimney, so loud and furious that it was as startling as a clap of thunder. Then it subsided again, but for a moment or two a long low wail sounded overhead, gradually dying away in the distance.

“What was that?” said Bertrand. While the sounds lasted both children had stood perfectly still.

“The wind of course,” said Ruby. She was more accustomed than her cousin to the unexpected vagaries of the storm spirits so near the sea, still even she seemed startled. “It’s often like that,” she was beginning to say, but she hesitated. “Itwasvery loud,” she added.

“There must be rough weather coming,” said Bertrand. “We’d better go home by the road, I think, Ruby.”

“We,” exclaimed Ruby indignantly. “Do you mean you and me, Bertrand? And what about Mavis?”

“She can come on shore,” replied the boy carelessly. “She knows where we are. It’s her own fault. Come along, there’s nothing to wait for in this empty old hole. I want you to show me the caves outside.”

“I’ll try to signal to Mavis first,” said Ruby. “I’ll tie my handkerchief to a stick and wave it about. She can see us up here quite well, and perhaps when she finds we’re alone she’ll come.”

They left the cottage, and Ruby got out her handkerchief. But it was small use. For just as they stepped on to the rough little terrace in front from whence they could clearly see the shore, there came another and even—it seemed so at least now they were standing outside—more violent blast. It was all Ruby could do to keep her feet, and when she recovered from the giddying effect of the wind she was still breathless and shaken. And that the hurricane was gathering strength every second was plain to be seen; the waves were dashing in excitedly, the sky at one side had that strange lurid purple colour which foretells great disturbance.

But it was not these things only which made Ruby turn pale and shiver.

“Bertrand,” she gasped, “I don’t know if there’s something the matter with my eyes, I can’t see clearly—Bertrand—look—where is Mavis—Mavis and the boat; can you see them?”

Bertrand shaded his brow with his hand and gazed.

“’Pon my soul,” he said, “it’s very odd.Ican’t see them. And there’s not been time for Mavis to have rowed out to sea or even to have drifted out; we can see right out ever so far, and there’s no boat; not a sign of one.”

“Can—can she have landed and dragged the boat ashore somehow?” said Ruby, her teeth chattering with cold and fear.

“No,” said Bertrand, “we’d certainly see her and the boat in that case.”

“Then, where is she?” cried Ruby. “Bertrand, you must care. What do you think has become of her?”

“Can’t say, I’m sure,” said the boy. “The boat may have capsized: the sea’s awfully rough now.”

“Do you mean that Mavis may be drowned or drowning?” screamed Ruby. She had to scream, even had she been less terribly excited, for the roar of wind was on them again, and her voice was scarcely audible.

“I don’t see that she need be drowned,” said Bertrand. “It’s shallow. Shemayhave crept on shore, and be lying somewhere among those big stones; and if not, can’t your precious wizard friends look after her? She’s fond enough of them.”

He was partly in earnest; but Ruby took it all as cruel heartless mocking. She turned upon him furiously.

“You’re a brutal wicked boy,” she screamed. “I wish you were drowned; I wish you had never come near us; I wish—” she stopped, choked by her fury and misery, and by the wind which came tearing round again.

Bertrand came close to her.

“As you’re so busy wishing,” he called into her ear, “you’d better wish you hadn’t done what you have done yourself. It was all you who started the plan, and settled how we were to trick Winfried into the turret-room; you know you did.”

“And did I plan to drown Mavis, my own darling little sister?” returned Ruby as well as she could speak between her sobs and breathlessness. “Come down to the shore with me this moment and help me to look for her, if you’re not altogether a cruel heartless bully.”

“Not I,” said Bertrand, “we’d probably get drowned ourselves. Just see how the waves come leaping in; they look as if they were alive. I believe it’s all witches’ work together. I’m not going to trust myself down there. Come and show me the grottoes and the caves, Ruby. We may as well shelter in them till the wind goes down a bit. We can’t do Mavis any good; if she’s on the shore she can take care of herself, and if she’s under the waterwecan’t reach her;” and he caught hold of Ruby to pull her along, but she tore herself from his grasp with a wrench.

“You wicked, you heartless, brutal boy,” she cried.

“I don’t care if I am drowned; I would rather be drowned with Mavis than stay alive with you.”

And almost before Bertrand knew what she was doing, Ruby was rushing through the little garden at the back of the cottage on her way to descend the rough path to the shore.

He stood looking after her coolly for a moment or two with his hands in his pockets. He tried to whistle, but it was not very successful; the wind had the best of it.

“I don’t believe Mavis has come to any harm,” he said aloud, though speaking to himself, and almost as if trying to excuse his own conduct. “Anyway, I don’t see that it’s my business to look after her, it was all her own obstinacy.”

He kicked roughly at the pebbles at his feet, and as he did so, his glance fell on a tiny speck of colour just where he was kicking. It was one of the blue flowers Ruby had found in the cottage. Bertrand stooped and picked it up, and, strange to say, he handled it gently. But as he looked at it there came again to him the queer smarting pain in his eyes which he had complained of in the turret-room, and glancing up he became aware that the wind had suddenly gone down, everything had become almost unnaturally still, while a thin bluish haze seemed gathering closely round where he stood. Bertrand rubbed his eyes.

“There can’t be smoke here,” he said. “What can be the matter with my eyes?” and he rubbed them impatiently. It did no good.

“No, that will do no good,” said a voice. It seemed quite near him.

“Look up;” and in spite of himself the boy could not help looking up.

“Oh,” he screamed; “oh, what is it? what is it?”

For an agony, short but indescribable, had darted through his eyeballs, piercing, it seemed to him, to his very brain; and Bertrand was not in some ways a cowardly boy.

There was silence, perfect, dead silence, and gradually the intense aching, which the short terrible pain had left, began to subside. As it did so, and Bertrand ventured to look up again, he saw that—what he had seen, he could not describe it better—was gone, the haze had disappeared, the air was again clear, but far from still, for round the corner of the old cottage the blast now came rushing and tearing, as if infuriated at having been for a moment obliged to keep back; and with it now came the rain, such rain as the inland-bred boy had never seen before—blinding, drenching, lashing rain, whose drops seemed to cut and sting, with such force did they fall. It added to his confusion and bewilderment. Like a hunted animal he turned and ran, anywhere to get shelter; and soon he found himself behind the house, and then the thought of the grottoes the little girls had told him of returned to his mind.

“I won’t go back into that witches’ hole,” he said to himself as he glanced back at the house. “I’ll shelter in one of the grottoes.”

As he thought this he caught sight of an opening in the rockery before him. It was the entrance to the very cave where Mavis had been left by Ruby. Bertrand ran in; what happened to him there you shall hear in good time.

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