CHAPTER I

edoorandlethimin?Theotherpicturewasafaded,passe-partoutedengravingofQueenLouisecomingdownastairway,whichAuntWellingtonhadlavishlygivenheronhertenthbirthday.Fornineteenyearsshehadlookedatitandhatedit,beautiful,smug,self-satisfiedQueenLouise.Butsheneverdareddestroyitorremoveit.MotherandCousinStickleswouldhavebeenaghast,or,asValancyirreverentlyexpresseditinherthoughts,wouldhavehadafit. Everyroominthehousewasugly,ofcourse.Butdownstairsappearanceswerekeptupsomewhat.Therewasnomoneyforroomsnobodyeversaw.Valancysometimesfeltthatshecouldhavedonesomethingforherroomherself,evenwithoutmoney,ifshewerepermitted.ButhermotherhadnegativedeverytimidsuggestionandValancydidnotpersist.Valancyneverpersisted.Shewasafraidto.Hermothercouldnotbrookopposition.Mrs.Stirlingwouldsulkfordaysifoffended,withtheairsofaninsultedduchess. TheonlythingValancylikedaboutherroomwasthatshecouldbealonethereatnighttocryifshewantedto. But,afterall,whatdiditmatterifaroom,whichyouusedfornothingexceptsleepinganddressingin,wereugly?Valancywasneverpermittedtostayaloneinherroomforanyotherpurpose.Peoplewhowantedtobealone,soMrs.FrederickStirlingandCousinSticklesbelieved,couldonlywanttobealoneforsomesinisterpurpose.ButherroomintheBlueCastlewaseverythingaroomshouldbe. Valancy,socowedandsubduedandoverriddenandsnubbedinreallife,waswonttoletherselfgorathersplendidlyinherday-dreams.NobodyintheStirlingclan,oritsramifications,suspectedthis,leastofallhermotherandCousinStickles.TheyneverknewthatValancyhadtwohomes—theuglyredbrickboxofahome,onElmStreet,andtheBlueCastleinSpain.ValancyhadlivedspirituallyintheBlueCastleeversinceshecouldremember.Shehadbeenaverytinychildwhenshefoundherselfpossessedofit.Always,whensheshuthereyes,shecouldseeitplainly,withitsturretsandbannersonthepine-cladmountainheight,wrappedinitsfaint,blueloveliness,againstthesunsetskiesofafairandunknownland.Everythingwonderfulandbeautifulwasinthatcastle.Jewelsthatqueensmighthavewornrobesofmoonlightandfirecouchesofrosesandgoldlongflightsofshallowmarblesteps,withgreat,whiteurns,andwithslender,mist-cladmaidensgoingupanddownthemcourts,marble-pillared,whereshimmeringfountainsfellandnightingalessangamongthemyrtleshallsofmirrorsthatreflectedonlyhandsomeknightsandlovelywomen—herselftheloveliestofall,forwhoseglancemendied.Allthatsupportedherthroughtheboredomofherdayswasthehopeofgoingonadreamspreeatnight.Most,ifnotall,oftheStirlingswouldhavediedofhorroriftheyhadknownhalfthethingsValancydidinherBlueCastle. Foronethingshehadquiteafewloversinit.Oh,onlyoneatatime.Onewhowooedherwithalltheromanticardouroftheageofchivalryandwonherafterlongdevotionandmanydeedsofderring-do,andwasweddedtoherwithpompandcircumstanceinthegreat,banner-hungchapeloftheBlueCastle. Attwelve,thisloverwasafairladwithgoldencurlsandheavenlyblueeyes.Atfifteen,hewastallanddarkandpale,butstillnecessarilyhandsome.Attwenty,hewasascetic,dreamy,spiritual.Attwenty-five,hehadaclean-cutjaw,slightlygrim,andafacestrongandruggedratherthanhandsome.Valancynevergrewolderthantwenty-fiveinherBlueCastle,butrecently—veryrecently—herherohadhadreddish,tawnyhair,atwistedsmileandamysteriouspast. Idon’tsayValancydeliberatelymurderedtheseloversassheoutgrewthem.Onesimplyfadedawayasanothercame.Thingsareveryconvenientinthis