Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Children of the CastleBy Mrs MolesworthIllustrations by Walter CranePublished by Macmillan and Co Ltd, St Martin's Street, London.This edition dated 1915.
The Children of the Castle, by Mrs Molesworth.
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________________________________________________________________________THE CHILDREN OF THE CASTLE, BY MRS MOLESWORTH.
CHAPTER ONE.
RUBY AND MAVIS.
"Hast thou seen that lordly castle, That castle by the sea? Golden and red above it The clouds float gorgeously."
Trans. of Uhland: Longfellow.
Do you remember Gratian--Gratian Conyfer, the godson of the four winds,the boy who lived at the old farmhouse up among the moors, where thesestrange beautiful sisters used to meet? Do you remember how full offancies and stories Gratian's little head was, and how sometimes he putthem into words to please Fergus, the lame child he loved so much? Thestory I am now going to tell you is one of these. I think it was theirfavourite one. I can not say that it is in the very words in whichGratian used to tell it, for it was not till long, long after thoseboyish days that it came to be written down. But all the same it is hisstory.
How long ago it was I cannot say, nor can I tell you exactly where itwas. This is not a story for which you will require an atlas, nor ahistory of England or of any other country, nor a dictionary of dates.All those wise and clever and useful things you may put out of yourheads for a bit. I am just going to tell you a story. It was somewhereand somewhen, and I think that will do.
The "it" was a castle--and something else. But first about the castle.It was really worthy of the name, for it was very old and very strong,and in ancient days it had been used as a place of defence, and had alook about it of not having forgotten this. (I am afraid this sounds a_very_ little historical. I must take care.) It was very big too,towering over the sea-washed cliffs on which it stood as if defying thewinds and the waves to do their worst, frowning at them with the littleround window-eyes of its turrets, like a cross old ogre. But it was atwo-faced castle; it was only on one side--the rocky side, where thecliffs went down precipitously to the water--that it looked grim andforbidding. Inland, you could scarcely have believed it was the samecastle at all. For here, towards the sunny south, it seemed to changeinto a gracious, comfortable, hospitably-inviting mansion; it did notlook nearly so high on this side, for the ivy-covered turrets had morethe effect of dimly dark trees in the background, and the brightwide-windowed rooms opened on to trim lawns and terraces gay withflowers. That was the case in summer-time at least. The whole look ofthings varied a good deal according to the seasons. In winter, grim asit was, I don't know but that the fortress-front, so to speak, of thegreat building had the best of it. For it was grand to watch the wavesbreaking down below when you knew you were safe and cosy behind thebarred panes of the turret windows, those windows pierced in the wallsthrough such a thickness of stone that each was like a little roomwithin a room. And even in winter there were wonderful sunsets to beseen from the children's favourite turret-room--the one which had twowindows to the west and only one to the cold north.
For the "something else" was the children. Much more interesting thanthe castle--indeed, what would any castle or any house be without them?Not that the castle was not a very interesting place to live in, as youwill hear, but all _places_, I think, need people to bring out theirinterest. People who have been, sometimes, and sometimes, people thatstill are. There was a mixture of both in my castle. But first andforemost I will tell you of the children, whose home it was, and perhapsis yet.
There were only two of them, only two, that is to say, who lived thereregularly; they were girls, twin-sisters, Ruby and Mavis were theirnames, and at this time they were nearly twelve years old. I will notsay much in description of them, it is best to let you find out aboutthem for yourselves. They were almost exactly the same size; Rubyperhaps a very little the taller, and at first sight every one thoughtthem exceedingly like each other. And so they were, so far as thecolour of their hair, the shape of their features, their eyes andcomplexions went. They were pretty little girls, and they made a prettypair. But the more you got to know them the less alike you got to thinkthem, till at last you be an to wonder how you ever could have thoughtthem like at all! And even almost at the first glance _some_differences were to be seen. Ruby was certainly the prettier. Her eyeswere brighter, her colour more brilliant, her way of walking and holdingherself more graceful, even her very manner of talking was moreinteresting and attractive.
"What a charming child she is," said strangers always. "Such prettywinning ways, so sweet and unselfish, so clever and intelligent! What apity that dull little Mavis is not more like her--why, I thought themthe image of each other at first, and now I can scarcely believe theyare sisters. I am sure poor Ruby must find Mavis very trying, she is sostupid; but Ruby is so good and patient with her--it quite adds anothercharm to the dear child."
This opinion or one like it was always the first expressed--well,perhaps not _always_, but almost always. Now I will let you judge foryourselves.
It was late autumn. So late, that one felt inclined to wish it werealready winter, without any thought or talk of a milder season. For itwas very cold, and thick-walled though the castle was, it needed anyamount of huge fires and curtains in front of the doorways and doublewindows, and, in the modern rooms, hot air or water-pipes to make itcomfortable in severe weather. And all these things in winter it had.But the housekeeper had rather old-fashioned and stiff ideas. She dideverything by rule. On a certain day in the autumn the winterarrangements were begun, on a certain day in the spring they came to anend. And this, whatever the weather was,--not a very good plan, for aseverybody knows, the weather itself is not so formal and particular.There are quite warm, mild days sometimes in late November, and reallybitterly cold ones in April and May. But there would have been nomanner of use in trying to make old Bertha see this. Winter _should_stop on a certain day, and summer should come, and _vice versa_. It hadalways been so in her time, and Bertha did not like new-fangled ways.
So everybody shivered, and the more daring ones, of whom Ruby was theforemost, scolded and grumbled. But it was no use.
"You may as well try to bear it patiently, my dear," said cousinHortensia, "the mild weather must come soon. I will lend you one of mylittle shawls if you like. You will feel warmer when you have been outfor a run."
Cousin Hortensia was the lady who lived at the castle to teach and takecare of the two little girls. For their mother was dead and theirfather was often away. He had some appointment at the court. I am notsure what it was, but he was considered a very important person. He waskind and good, as you will see, and it was always a great delight to thechildren when he came home, and a great sorrow when he had to leave.
Cousin Hortensia was only a very far-off cousin, but the children alwayscalled her so. For though she was really with them as a governess aswell as a friend, it would not have seemed so nice to call her by anyother name. She was very gentle, and took the best care she could ofthem. And she was clever and taught them well. But she was rather adreamy sort of person. She had lived for many years a very quiet life,and knew little of the outside world. She had known and loved thetwins' mother, and their father too, when they were but boy and girl,for she was no longer young. And she loved Ruby and Mavis, Rubyespecially, so dearly, that she could see no fault in them. It was toRuby she was speaking and offering a shawl. They were sitting in one ofthe rooms on the south side of the castle, sheltered from the stormywinds which often came whirling down from
the north. But even here itwas cold, or at least chilly.
Ruby shrugged her shoulders.
"You always offer me a shawl as if I were seventy, cousin Hortensia,"she said rather pertly. "It would be much better if you would speak toBertha, and _insist_ on her having the fires lighted now it is so cold.When I'm grown up I can tell you _I_ won't stand the old thing'styranny."
Cousin Hortensia looked rather distressed. There was some sense in whatRuby said, but there were a great many other things to be considered,all of which she could not explain to the children. Bertha was anexceedingly valuable servant, and if she were interfered with and wentaway it would be almost impossible to get any one like her. For it wasnecessary that the castle should be managed with economy as well ascare.
"I would speak to Bertha if there was anything really important tocomplain of," she said. "But this weather cannot last, and you are notcold at night, are