CHAPTER V.—A FRIGHT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
He drew on his little dressing-gown, for he was shivering with cold and excitement. But his slippers he would not put on. 'I can run so much faster without them,' he said, speaking to himself in a low voice. Then he opened the door, crossed the little anteroom, and hesitating a moment, threw open the large door of the gallery. An instant he waited before he found courage to look up. Then he did so, with a half-acknowledged feeling that if anything too appalling met his eye, he could still rush back into the shelter of his own room.
But all was still, strangely still, and the curious effect of the moonlight, streaming in, in fitful patches through the coloured windows, for a moment made him forget his fears in a sort of awe-struck admiration. It was even stranger than Linda had described it, for the clouds quickly rushing across the moon, caused a mixture of light and shadow, coloured by the tints of the glass, like broken and confused rainbows. And had Denis not been too frightened to look at the faces on the wall, the effect of this jumble of light and colour and shadow would have been almost comical.
But a glance was enough. Then literally gathering up his garments—that is to say, taking the skirts of his dressing-gown in his hands—the poor little chap dashed into the enemy's country, looking neither to right nor to left, and ran—his little bare feet making a quick pitter-patter on the polished floor—ran as if for dear life! Fortunately he did not stumble: had he done so, I doubt if he would have been able to get up again—the terrible thought that something had caught him and made him fall would probably have altogether overcome him—but oh how long the gallery seemed, and oh how thankful he was to reach the other end and burst through the swing baize door that closed it!
Here, in the passage, leading to the nursery, all was dark, or seemed so at first, though as Denis felt his way to the staircase, his eyes got used to the darkness, and gradually began to discern some light in it. He knew his way so well that even without this he could have found the stair; and once on it, a little more light came up from the fanlight on the top of the garden-door below, and now Prin's voice was heard again, quite plainly, showing that he was just outside the door, seldom closed to him, poor little dog, as he was accustomed to come in and out by it with the children on their way to and from the garden.
'I'm coming, Prin, dear little Prin,' cried Denis, quite brightly and cheerfully now, as he reached the foot of the stair, and Prin in return gave a hopeful little bark; 'one moment, dear Prin, till Denis opens the door for you,' he went on, as he fumbled for the handle, which he knew he could reach. He reached it, and turned it, but oh, what a disappointment; the door would not open as it did in the daytime—it was bolted! At first Denis thought it might be locked, and he felt about for a key. But there was no key, and peering about in the uncertain light he saw high up something which looked like a bolt—far too high for him to reach, and probably too hard for his little hands to pull back. He had never thought of this, and he was terribly distressed—especially when another faint whine from Prince seemed to ask why he was so slow. But it roused him too.
'Poor Prin,' he said, 'Denis can't get the door open. Den will have to go and get nurse to help. He'll be as quick as he can. Stay there, dear Prin,' and then he turned to climb the stair again, his feet this time perfectly numb with cold. He must get up two flights—past the day-nursery, to where nurse and baby slept, in what was called 'the old nursery,' a story higher than the other. But so long as there was no gallery to face, Denis did not seem to mind. He got on all right till he was crossing the landing or passage on to which the swing-door opened; then just as he was putting his foot on the first step of the second flight he was startled by a noise—a sound of footsteps approaching him, and, oh terror! from the direction of the gallery. In his fear he stood still, as if not knowing what to do. The steps came nearer and nearer with a rather slow, dragging sound. Denis still stood as if turned to stone. The baize door swung open, a light warmer and brighter than the moon rays gleamed through, and a figure stood full in the boy's sight. A tall figure, it seemed to him, clothed in yellow, with pale face and powdered hair, all distinctly seen by the flame of the taper held in its hand.
'The lady in the yellow satin!' screamed poor Denis; 'oh, it's come true! She's got out of the frame to catch me. O mother, mother, it's so dreadful, and I did so try to be brave!'