Part 67 (1/2)

”Then, Margery, she has gone up into the turret. She never came to us.”

Up to the turret hastened Janet; up to the turret followed Margery.

Bessy and Maria traversed the pa.s.sage leading to the turret-stairs, and stood there, looking upwards. Maria, had she been alone, could not have told which of the pa.s.sages _would_ lead her to the turret-stairs; and she could not understand why so much commotion need be made, although Meta had run up there. Strange as it may seem, Maria G.o.dolphin, though so many years George's wife, and the presumptive mistress of Ashlydyat, had never pa.s.sed beyond that separating door. Miss G.o.dolphin had never offered to take her to the unused rooms and the turret; and Maria was of too sensitively refined a nature to ask it of her own accord.

Janet appeared, leading the rebel; Margery, behind, was scolding volubly. ”Now,” said Janet, when they reached the foot, ”tell me, Meta, how it was that you could behave so disobediently, and go where you had been expressly told not to go?”

Meta shook back her golden curls with a laugh, sprang to Maria, and took refuge in her skirts. ”Mamma did not tell me not to go,” said she.

Janet looked at Maria: almost as if she would say, Can it be true that you have not done so?

”It is true,” said Maria, answering the look. ”I heard something about her running into the turret the last time she was here: I did not know it was of any consequence.”

”She might fall through the loopholes,” replied Janet. ”Nothing could save her from being dashed to pieces.”

Maria caught the child to her with an involuntary movement. ”Meta, darling, do you hear? You must never go again.”

Meta looked up fondly, serious now. Maria bent her face down on the little upturned one.

”Never again, darling; do not forget,” she murmured. ”Does Meta know that if harm came to her, mamma would never look up again? She would cry always.”

Meta bustled out of her mamma's arms, and stood before Miss G.o.dolphin, earnest decision on her little face. ”Aunt Janet, Meta won't run away again.”

And when the child voluntarily made a promise, they knew that she would keep it. Margery whirled her away, telling her in high tones of a young lady of her own age who would do something that she was bade not to do: the consequence of which act was, that the next time she went out for a walk, she was run at by a bull with bra.s.s tips on his horns.

”Is the turret really dangerous?” inquired Maria.

”It is dangerous for a random child like Meta, who ventures into every hole and corner without reference to dust or danger,” was Miss G.o.dolphin's answer. ”Would you like to go up, Maria?”

”Yes, I should. I have heard George speak of the view from it.”

”Mind, Maria, the stairs are narrow and winding,” interposed Bessy.

Nevertheless, they went up, pa.s.sing the open loopholes which might be dangerous to Meta. The first thing that Maria's eyes encountered when they had reached the top was a small bow of violet-coloured ribbon. She stooped to pick it up.

”It is a bow off Janet's evening dress,” exclaimed Bessy.

”Janet”--turning to her sister--”what can have brought it here?”

”I was up here last night,” was the answer of Janet G.o.dolphin, spoken with composure.

”That's just like you, Janet!” retorted Bessy. ”To watch for that foolish Shadow, I suppose.”

”Not to watch for it. To see it.”

Bessy was afflicted with a taint of heresy. They had never been able to imbue her with the superst.i.tion pertaining to the G.o.dolphins. Bessy had seen the Shadow more than once with her own eyes; but they were practical eyes and not imaginative, and could not be made to see anything mysterious in it. ”The shadow is thrown by some tree or other,”

Bessy would say. And, in spite of its being pointed out to her that there was no tree, which _could_ cast a shadow on the spot, Bessy obstinately held to her own opinion.

Maria gazed from two sides of the turret. The view from both was magnificent. The one side overlooked the charming open country; the other, Prior's Ash. On the third side rose Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly, standing out like a white foreground to the lovely expanse of scenery behind it; the fourth side looked upon the Dark Plain.

”There's Charlotte Pain,” said Bessy.

Charlotte had returned home, it appeared, since Maria met her, and changed her attire. She was pacing the terrace of the Folly in her riding-habit, a whip in hand, and some dogs surrounding her. Maria turned towards the Dark Plain, and gazed upon it.