IV.
"They are a nice family, those Ormistons," said Mr. Parker to his wife as they drove to the railway-station in the moonlight.
"Very," said Mrs. Parker; "and Mr. Forrester is a nice lad. I hope he and Miss Ormiston will make it out: I did my best for them."
"They'll be quite able to do the best for themselves: it is always better to let things of that kind alone."
"I don't know that," said Mrs. Parker: "if a little shove is all that is needed, it is a pity not to give it."
"But what if your shove sends people separate? That's not what you intended, I fancy?"
"No fear: people are not so easily separated as all that."
"Well, we have had an uncommonly pleasant visit: I only wish the heads of the house had been at home."
Either the attachment of this pair must have been pretty evident to ordinary capacities, or Mrs. Parker must have been of a matchmaking turn of mind; probably the latter, for Bessie at least was sure that no mortal guessed her secret; which was a great comfort to her, seeing that Edwin was so indifferent. Alas! there is no rose without a thorn, or if there is it is a scentless, useless thing, most likely incapable of giving either pleasure or pain.
The Parkers had left early. When the young people went in-doors again it was only seven o'clock: the girls proposed a game at hide-and-seek, and Bessie seconded the proposal; for you see it would have been rather a formidable business to sit down and entertain Mr. Forrester all the evening with conversation, rational or otherwise; and although at the moment she was in the dignified position of lady of the castle, she could not the less enjoy a game amazingly.
The theatre of operations was wisely restricted, because if they had gone all over the castle they might have hidden themselves so that the game would have been endless; therefore they kept to the under part of the inhabited region. At length, tiring of this, they changed their game to blindman's buff, and went to the kitchen to play it, there being more room and fewer obstacles there; besides that, it was empty of tenants at the time, the servants having gone to see some of the neighbors.
It was a curious old kitchen, with a very low roof, and having a fireplace in a big semicircular stone recess. Many a boar's head had revolved there, and many a venison pasty had sent forth its fragrance to greet the tired hunters returning from the chase. The fire glowed in its deep recess like the eye of an old-world monster in a cavern, till one of the boys seized the poker and made it flame up, throwing its blaze out as far as it could for its walls, and making the kitchen and the group standing in it like a picture by Rembrandt.
"Who's to be blind man first?" cried the girls.
"Edwin: that will be the best fun," the boys said.
"Very well, I sha'n't be long blind," said Edwin: "I shall soon catch some of you. Who'll tie the handkerchief?"
"Bessie: she always ties it. Go and kneel to her, and she'll tie it so that you won't see."
What must Mr. Forrester have felt while being blinded by the Rose? Only, he had long been accustomed to be if not blinded, at least dazed, by her. The boys led him into the middle of the floor and dispersed themselves into corners. While he stood in the attitude of listening intently, he was conscious of a very gentle movement near him, and instantly closed his arms round it, as he thought, and encountered empty air, while with a shout of laughter the children cried, "Bessie was too quick for you. There, quick! quick! Edwin!" He sprang to the corner the voices came from, and the boys rushed along the wall to avoid his arms spread out to catch them, when suddenly the doorbell rang.
At the sound Edwin put up his hand to take off the handkerchief, but the boys cried, "Don't take it off: if it's any one, Bessie can speak to them in the dining-room: we don't need to stop our game."
They were not aware that to Mr. Forrester the game without Bessie was like Hamlet with the part of Hamlet left out.
"Yes," said Bessie, "just go on, and I'll see who is at the door." As she left the kitchen she honored Mr. Forrester with a good long look: people can feel so much at ease looking at a blind person.
The door was chained for greater security, and Bessie did not take off the chain: she merely opened the door as far as it would open, but seeing no one, she opened it fully and went out on the steps; still she saw no person, although she thought whoever rang the bell had not had time to get out of sight. Waiting a little without result, she went back to the kitchen.
"Who was it?" cried the children.
"No one," she said.
"But the bell rang," said John.
"Of course it did," Will corroborated.
"And somebody must have rung it," John said.
"Some one for a trick, I suppose," Bessie said, "although I don't know how he disappeared so fast."
Without further remark the game was resumed. Edwin had caught John, and John had caught Bessie, and when he was putting the handkerchief round her eyes Mr. Forrester said, "You are making it far too tight, John: you are hurting your sister."
"No fear," said John: "none of us have soft heads here. Is it too tight, Bessie?"
"Rather, but I can bear it: go on."
"I'll slacken it first," Edwin said.
"Thank you, that will do. Now move off or I'll catch you." She went very vigorously to work, and sent them all flying round the kitchen, when the bell rang, and rang loudly, again.
John darted to the door and flung it wide, sure that he would see the person who rang it, whether running away or not; but there was no one, and the whole party followed him out, and they surveyed round and round, but all was still and quiet and vacant, the moonlight making it impossible that any figure should be there without being seen.
Now, if you lived in an ordinary house in an ordinary street in an ordinary town, an incident like this would create no surprise. It happens often: true, it is not a very new or bright joke, still it is a joke that boys and girls enjoy, and will continue to enjoy. But away in the country, at an old castle, with no house within a quarter of a mile of it, the case is very different. How was it to be accounted for?
The Ormistons came in, the girls looking scared, and the boys laughing and saying that Mary Stuart or Darnley or Bothwell, whose names they had made so free with shouting to the echo, must have heard themselves called and were ringing the bell, although not allowed to show themselves; but even as they said it the boys would fain have whistled to keep their courage up.
"I wish papa and mamma had been at home," said Bell.
"Or if only the Parkers could have been persuaded to stay all night," suggested Jessie.
"Nonsense!" Bessie said. "Some one is playing us a trick, but we don't need to let it spoil our game;" and she put the handkerchief over her eyes. "Look here, Edwin: will you tie this? You do it better than John."
"He doesn't," said John. "I believe he leaves it so that you can see. I'll do it. No, I won't make it too tight."
"Don't you think, Jessie," Edwin asked, "that I could protect you, in case of danger, as well as the Parkers?"
"I don't know. Perhaps if you were like yourself, but you're not like yourself."
"He's as dull as ditch-water," said John.
"But," said Jessie, taking his hand with a feeling of security, "you're better than nothing—a great deal better than nothing."
"Thank you, Jessie, thank you! A man is the better for a little encouragement, you know;" and he looked at the Rose, but she was blind; which made her easier looked at, to be sure, but there was less chance of an answer, encouraging or otherwise.
They had got up the spirit of the game again, and were going on briskly, when they were all brought to a stand by the bell ringing for the third time.
"Don't stop," cried Bessie: "go on with the game and take no notice unless it rings again;" and as a leader who must show no fear she chased her sisters round the kitchen, making them flee to avoid being caught, when, as if in answer to her remark, the bell did ring again.
This was too much. They all ran to the door, but neither human being nor ghost was to be seen.
"I say," said John to his brother, "you and I will go out and watch. Edwin, you'll stay with the girls—they are frightened—and if the bell rings again we'll see who does it."
"You have more need of Edwin than we have, John," Bessie said: "it will take you all to catch a ghost."
"Come away, then," cried John; and he posted his sentinels at different angles, where each could have his eye on the door. The girls shut themselves in the house, and outside and in they awaited the result.
There was no result.
Ordinary sentinels can pace to and fro to make the moments go more quickly, but Edwin and John and William were compelled to stand without speech or motion, as to betray their presence would have been to defeat their purpose. At the end of half an hour their patience was worn out, and they came to the conclusion that whoever was playing the trick knew that they were watching; so they went in, and hardly were they in and the door shut when the bell rang again.
John rushed from the kitchen, whither he had gone for something, but the others, being in the dining-room and nearer the door, reached it before him; and again nothing was to be seen but the still calm night, in which hung the moon with all her accustomed unimpassioned serenity. What cared she for ghosts? Perhaps she is only a ghost herself, else why, with all her pale quiet ways, does she never turn round and show herself thoroughly? No doubt she has reasons of her own, whether they are good or not: her sex is apt to be both capricious and persistent—two qualities which she possesses in perfection.
The Ormistons and Edwin stood out on the broad walk before the door, none of them feeling very comfortable, if the truth must be told, but none of them showing their feelings except Bell and Jessie, who openly declared that they were very much frightened.
"Nonsense!" said Bessie. "Who is going to be frightened at a silly trick?"
"But it may be somebody wanting to get in to do us harm—kill us perhaps," suggested Bell.
"People who want to get into a house for bad ends don't ring the front doorbell, or any bell," said Bessie.
At this junction two figures appeared in the distance advancing along the road to the castle—soon made out to be the servants, so that they at least were guiltless in the affair.
"It has not been them, you see," cried John.
"No," Bessie said, "and you are not to say anything about it to them when they come: if they know anything of it, it will soon leak out; and if they don't tell, they will be quite frightened: they are as easily frightened as Bell or Jessie here."