“Yes, of course,” she said. “Who ever told you she wore blue, Mavis?”
Mavis grew very red.
“I wasn’t speaking of our mother,” she said. “It was the lady you saw in your dream I meant, cousin Hortensia.”
“You silly girl!” said Ruby. “Isn’t she stupid?” Mavis looked ready to cry.
“You must get out of that habit of not listening to what people say, my dear,” said Miss Hortensia. “Now you had better both go out—wrap up warmly, and don’t stay very long, and when you come in you will find me in my own room.”
“And you’ll tell us stories, won’t you, dear good cousin?” said Ruby coaxingly, as she put up her pretty face for a kiss. “If you’ll tell me my story, you may tell Mavis hers afterwards.”
“Well, well, we’ll see,” said Miss Hortensia, smiling.
“I do so like the story of the blue lady,” said Mavis, very softly, as they left the room.
Five minutes later the twins were standing under the great archway which led to the principal entrance to the castle. At one end this archway opened on to a winding road cut in the rock, at the foot of which was a little sandy cove—a sort of refuge among the cliffs. On each side of it the waves broke noisily, but they never entirely covered the cove, even at very high tides, and except in exceedingly rough and stormy weather the water rippled in gently, as if almost asking pardon for intruding at all. When the sea was out there was a scrambling path among the rocks to the left, by which one could make one’s way to a little fishing-hamlet about a quarter of a mile off on the west. For, as I should have explained before, the castle stood almost at a corner, the coast-line turning sharply southwards, after running for many miles almost due east and west.
The proper way to this hamlet was by the same inland road which led to the castle, and which, so the legend ran, was much more modern than the building itself, much more modern at least than the north side of it. That grim fortress-like front was very ancient. It had been built doubtless for a safe retreat, and originally had only been accessible from the sea, being in those days girt round on the land side by enormous walls, in which was no entrance of any kind. A part of these walls, ivy-clad and crumbling, still remained, but sufficient had been pulled down to give space for the pleasant sunny rooms and the sheltered garden with its terraces.