JINGLE ALL THE WAY: 180+ Christmas Classics in One Volume (Illustrated Edition)
us hope for a bright fire and a welcome when we arrive,' said old Marc cheerfully. 'Provided only Master Rollo and Miss Maia are not too tired, we should not complain,' he added reprovingly, in a lower voice, turning to Nanni. But Maia had caught the words.
'Poor Nanni,' she said kindly. 'Don't be so sad. It will be better when we get there, and you can unpack our things and get them arranged again.'
'And then Marc will have to leave us, and who knows how they will treat us in this outlandish country!' said Nanni, beginning to sob again.
But just then the coachman looked round to signify that the horses were rested, and he was about to proceed.
'Get up, girl—quickly—get up,' said Marc, reserving his scolding, no doubt, till they were again in their places and out of hearing of their little master and mistress.
The coachman touched up his horses; they seemed to know they were nearing home, and set off at a brisk pace, the bells on their harness jingling merrily as they went.
The cheerful sound, the quicker movement, had its effect on the children's spirits.
'It is a strange country,' said Maia, throwing herself back among the cushions of the carriage, as if tired of gazing out. 'Still, I don't see that we need be so very unhappy here.'
'Nor I,' said Rollo. 'Nanni is foolish. She should not call it an outlandish country. That to us it cannot be, for it is the country of our ancestors.'
'But so long ago, Rollo,' objected Maia.
'That does not matter. We are still of the same blood,' said the boy sturdily. 'We must love, even without knowing why, the place that was home to them—the hills, the trees—ah, yes, above all, those wonderful forests. They seem to go on for ever and ever, like the stars, Maia.'
'Yet I don't think them as pretty as forests of different kinds of trees,' said Maia thoughtfully. 'They are more strange than beautiful. Fancy them always, always there, in winter and summer, seeing the sun rise and set, feeling the rain fall, and the snow-flakes flutter down on their branches, and yet never moving, never changing. I wouldn't like to be a tree.'
'But they do change,' said Rollo. 'The branches wither and then they sprout again. It must be like getting new clothes, and very interesting to watch, I should think. Fancy how funny it would be if our clothes grew on us like that.'
Maia gave a merry little laugh.
'Yes,' she said; 'fancy waking up in the morning and looking to see if our sleeves had got a little bit longer, or if our toes were beginning to be covered! I suppose that's what the trees talk about.'
'Oh, they must have lots of things to talk about,' said Rollo. 'Think of how well they must see the pictures in the clouds, being so high up. And the stars at night. And then all the creatures that live in their branches, and down among their roots,—the birds, and the squirrels, and the field-mice, and the——'
'Yes,' interrupted Maia; 'you have rather nice thoughts sometimes, Rollo. After all, I dare say it is not so very stupid to be a tree. I should like the squirrels best of all. I do love squirrels! Can you see the castle any better now, Rollo? It must be at your side.'
'I don't see it at all just now,' said Rollo, after peering out for some moments. 'I'm not sure but what it's got round to your side by now, Maia.'
'No, it hasn't,' said Maia. 'It couldn't have done. It's somewhere over there, below that rounded hill-top—we'll see it again in a minute, I dare say. Ah, see, Rollo, there's the moon coming out! I do hope we shall often see the moon here. It would be so pretty—the trees would look nearly black. But what are you staring at so, Rollo?'
Rollo drew in his head again.
'There must be somebody living over there,' he said. 'I see smoke rising—you can hardly see it now, the light is growing so dim, but I'm sure I did see it. There must be a little cottage there somewhere among the trees.'
'Oh, how nice!' exclaimed Maia. 'We must find it out. I wonder what sort of people live in it—gnomes or wood-spirits, perhaps? There couldn't be any real people in such a lonely place.'
'Gnomes and wood-spirits don't need cottages, and they don't make fires,' replied Rollo.
'How do you know?' and Rollo's answer was not quite ready. 'I dare say gnomes like to come up above sometimes, for a change; and I dare say the wood-spirits are cold sometimes, and like to warm themselves. Any way I shall try to find that cottage and see who does live in it. I hope she will let us go on walks as often as we wish, Rollo.'
'She—who?' said the boy dreamily. 'Oh, our lady cousin! Yes, I hope so;' but he sighed as he spoke, and this time the sigh was sad.
Maia nestled closer to her brother.
'I think I was forgetting a little, Rollo,' she said. 'I can't think how I could forget, even for a moment, all our troubles. But father wanted us to try to be happy.'
'Yes, I know he did,' said Rollo. 'I am very glad if you can feel happier sometimes, Maia. But for me it is different; I am so much older.'
'Only two years,' interrupted Maia.
'Well, well, I feel more than that older. And then I have to take care of you till father comes home; that makes me feel older too.'
'I wish we could take care of each other,' said Maia; 'I wish we were going to live in a little cottage by ourselves instead of in Lady Venelda's castle. We might have Nanni just to light the fires and cook the dinner, except the creams and pastry and cakes—those I would make myself. And she might also clean the rooms and wash the dishes—I cannot bear washing dishes—and all the rest we would do ourselves, Rollo.'
'There would not be much else to do,' said Rollo, smiling.
'Oh yes, there would. We should need a cow, you know, and cocks and hens; those we should take care of ourselves, though Nanni might churn. You have no idea how tiring it is to churn; I tried once at our country-house last year, and my arms ached so. And then there would be the garden; it must be managed so that there should always, all the year round, be strawberries and roses. Wouldn't that be charming, Rollo?'
'Yes; but it certainly couldn't be done out of fairyland,' said the boy.
'Never mind. What does it matter? When one is wishing one may wish for anything.'
'Then, for my part, I would rather wish to be at our own home again, and that our father had not had to go away,' said Rollo.
'Ah, yes!' said Maia; and then she grew silent, and the grave expression overspread both children's faces again.
They had meant to look out to see if the white-walled castle was once more within sight, but it was now almost too dark to see anything, and they remained quietly in their corners. Suddenly they felt the wheels roll on to a paved way; the carriage went more slowly, and in a moment or two they stopped.
'Can we have arrived?' said Maia. But Rollo, looking out, saw that they had only stopped at a postern. An old man, bent and feeble, came out of an ivy-covered lodge, round and high like a light-house, looking as if it had once been a turret attached to the main building, and pressed forward as well as he could to open the gate, which swung back rustily on its hinges. The coachman exchanged a few words in the language of the country, which the children understood but slightly, and then the chariot rolled on again, slowly still, for the road ascended, and even had there been light there would have been nothing to see but two high walls, thickly covered with creeping plants. In a moment or two they stopped again for another gate to be opened—this time more quickly—then the wheels rolled over smoother ground, and the coachman drew up before a doorway, and a gleam of white walls flashed before the children's eyes.
The door was already open. Marc and Nanni got down at the farther side, for a figure stood just inside the entrance, which they at once recognised as that of the lady of the house come forward to welcome her young relatives. Two old serving-men, older than Marc and in well-worn livery, let down the ladder of steps and opened the chariot