Ruby shivered as she and Mavis stood a moment hesitating in the archway.
“It is cold here,” she said; “the wind seems to come from everywhere at once. Which way shall we go, Mavis?”
“It would be a little warmer at the back, perhaps,” said Mavis. “But I don’t care much for the gardens on a dull day like this.”
“Nor do I,” said Ruby, “there’s nothing to see. Now at the front it’s almost nicer on a dull day than when it’s sunny—except of course for the cold. Let’s go down to the cove, Mavis, and see how it feels there.” It was curious that they always spoke of the fortress side as the front, even though the southern part of the building was what would have naturally seemed so.
“I’d like to stay out till sunset and see the colours up in the turret windows,” said Mavis, as they clambered down the rocky path. “I wish I knew which of these rooms is the one where the blue fairy lady used to come. I do think cousin Hortensia might have found out.”
“Rubbish!” said Ruby. It was rather a favourite expression of hers, I am afraid. “I don’t believe cousin Hortensia ever saw her. It was all a fancy because she had heard about it. If ever she did come, it was ages and ages ago, and I don’t believe she did even then. I don’t believe one bit about spirits and fairies and dreams and things like that.” Mavis said nothing, but a puzzled, disappointed look crept into her eyes.
“Perhaps it’s because I’m stupid,” she said, “but I shouldn’t like to think like you, Ruby. And you know the story wouldn’t have come all of itself, and cousin Hortensia, though she calls it a dream, can’t really explain it that way.”
“If you know so much about it, why do you keep teasing to have it told again?” said Ruby impatiently. “Well, here we are at the cove; what are we to do now?”
Mavis looked about her. It was chilly, and the sky was grey, but over towards the west there was a lightening. The wind came in little puffs down here, now and again only, for they were well under the shelter of the cliffs. And up above, the old castle frowning down upon them—his own children, whose ancestors he had housed and sheltered and protected for years that counted by centuries—suddenly seemed to give a half unwilling smile. It was a ray of thin afternoon sunshine striking across the turret windows.
“See, see,” said Mavis. “The sun’s coming out. I’m sure the sky must be pretty and bright round where the cottages are. The sea’s quite far enough back, and it’s going out. Do let us go and ask how the baby—Joan’s baby, I mean—is to-day.”