"To Daneshead Castle."
The bright-cheeked maid opened her round eyes wider and looked at Cassandra with new interest. "But, ma'm,—that is quite far, though the ponies are smart, too."
"How far is it?"
"It's quite a bit away from here, ma'm; you'd have to start at two or thereabouts. I could take you myself if mother would let me, and tell you all the interesting places, but"—the girl looked at her shrewdly, a quickly withdrawn glance—"that depends on how well acquainted you are there, ma'm. Maybe you'd like better to have a man drive, and just let me go along to mind the baby for you."
"Yes, I would," said Cassandra, gladly.
"Thank you. I'll run for the ponies now, ma'm."
Cassandra heard her boots clatter rapidly down the wooden stairs at the back of the house, and presently saw her dashing across the inn yard, bareheaded and with her bare arms rolled in her apron.
The girl's manner of receiving the statement that she wished to drive to the castle was not lost on Cassandra's sensitive spirit. She sat a moment, thoughtful and sad, then rose and set herself to prepare carefully for the visit. In the afternoon! Then she might wear the silk gown and lovely hat. Once more she tried to arrange her hair as she saw other young women wear theirs, and again swept its heavy masses back loosely from her brow and coiled it low as her custom was.
The landlady's daughter chattered happily as they drove. She held the baby on her knee, and he played with the blue beads she wore about her neck, while Cassandra sat with hands dropped passively in her lap, her body leaning a little forward, straight and poised as if to move more rapidly along, her red lips parted as if listening and waiting, and her eyes courteously turning toward the places and objects pointed out to her, yet neither seeing nor hearing, except vaguely.