"They must have known we were there to-day; it's not likely they'll come straight in if they don't want us to see them," said Tib. "I can't make it out; whoever they are, they've more right there than we have. I think the only way is to take our books to-day and sit quietly reading; and we had better hide ourselves as much as we can, so that we shouldn't be seen all at once."
"Aren't you at all frightened?" said Gerald. "S'pose it was some kind of robbers?"
"Nonsense," said I. "Mr. Truro said he was satisfied we couldn't come to any harm there: I believe what he said. I'm not going to be frightened—are you Tib?"
"N—no. I don't think so," she replied, rather doubtfully. "Any way, I shouldn't at all like never to go there again."
But we all three did feel very excited the next afternoon, and I think all our hearts were beating a good deal faster than usual as we noiselessly made our way out of the conservatory and along the passage now so familiar to us, through the little anteroom, and then, as quietly as possible, opened the door into the saloon. And then—
You know, I dare say—big people must know all about these things better than children—how very quickly thoughts, or feelings, or something not exactly either—since I wrote that, a big person has told me that the word that best says what I mean is impressions: I am not sure that it says it to me; but that is, perhaps, because I have never thought of the word in that way before—You must know how very quickly one seems to know a thing sometimes, before there could have been time, even, to get to know it by any regular way of hearing or seeing. Well, that was how it was with us that day. The very instant the door opened we knew there was something different in the room—it seemed warmer, more alive, there was more feeling in it; and yet it was darker than we had ever seen it before—at least, that end of the room where our princess was had got into the shade somehow. Her face was not the first thing that caught our eyes, as it usually was; or was it her face?
I dare say you will think us too silly when I tell you that for about half a second we did think the princess had really stepped down out of the frame. It was so like her. There she stood, quite still, but smiling at us as if she had expected us. Her hair was dark—like Tib's and like the picture's—her eyes just the same as both of theirs; but she was far, far prettier than either! She was dressed in something white, and there was some pink about it, too; and though of course it wasn't really made the same way as the dress in the picture, it was like enough to give a confused feeling at the first of being the same. And she was standing a little in the same way, and a hat—a black hat with drooping feathers—was slung on her arm.
We three just stood and gaped, and stared as if our eyes would come out of our heads. And she stood, still smiling, but perfectly motionless.
Gerald was the first to come to his senses. He ran forward a little towards the end of the room where the portrait was—it was still there; it was only that one of the blinds had been drawn down so as to cast it into shade—and glancing up at the wall, he called out,