Bertrand stared at her with his big eyes. Some eyes are very misleading; his looked now and then as if he had nothing but kind and beautiful thoughts behind them.
“What a fool she must have been,” he said roughly. And poor Miss Hortensia’s heart sank.
The evening was not a long one, for Bertrand was tired with his journey, and for once willing to do as he was told, by going to bed early. A room near his cousins’ had been preparing for him, and though not quite ready, a good fire made it look very cosy. They all went upstairs with him to show him the way. As they passed the great baize door which divided their wing from the rest of the house. Bertrand pushed it open.
“What’s, through there?” he asked, in his usual unceremonious way.
“Oh, all the rest of the castle,” said Ruby importantly.
Bertrand peered through. It was like looking into a great church with all the lights out, for this door opened right upon the gallery running round the large hall.
“What a ramshackle old cavern!” said Bertrand. A blast of cold air rushed in through the doorway as he spoke and made them all shiver.
“Nonsense, Bertrand,” said Miss Hortensia, more sharply than she had yet spoken to him. “It is a splendid old house.”
“You should see the staircases up to the turrets,” said Ruby. “They are as high as—as I don’t know what. If you are naughty we can put you to sleep in the west turret-room, and they say it’s haunted.”
“I shouldn’t mind that,” laughed Bertrand.