CHAPTER XXVIII

NAN COMES INTO HER OWN

"Wait!" Dr. Prescott gave the command as the old Scotsman raised his arm to pull the chord. "Someone's coming!"

With one impulse, everyone in the room turned toward the door. They were all tense as it was opened from without and a group of villagers entered with Robert Hugh Blake in their midst!

"I tell you," he was protesting, "I don't know where the lassie is." His eyes were wild and staring as he spoke. "I tell you I don't--" He broke off his sentence when his eyes lighted on his brother. His whole attitude changed. "James, I don't know where she is," he almost whimpered.

James Blake stepped over to his brother's side. He motioned to the others in the room to keep quiet.

"There, there, Bobby," he spoke as he would to a child, "Of course you don't know where she is now. But where was she when you last saw her?"

"Down in the old gatehouse at the foot of the hill." Robert Blake answered. He was accustomed to obeying his brother. "But I didn't hurt her, not at all." His voice was earnest as he spoke and so sincere, that even Dr. Prescott, worried as she was, believed him.

"I was there playing on the bagpipe," he continued, "as I always do, when she came in through the door. I swear that that's the truth. She sat and talked to me for a long time. She's a sweet little lassie. Then I excused myself and went out for something, telling her that I would be right back. But I locked the door behind me. I was going to keep her there until it was too late for you to find her, but I had forgotten something--" he paused as though he couldn't remember what it was.

"Your bagpipe," James Blake supplied.

"Yes, that was it. It was my bagpipe," he went on looking at his brother throughout his confession. "When I opened the door again, she wasn't there! How she got away I don't know."

"Well, I do!" James Blake's exclamation fell like a thunderbolt on the rapt listeners. "I know where she is," he repeated, "And I'll have her here in a minute now!"

"Have who?" Everyone look around startled. It was Nan's voice!

James Blake went over to her side. "Then you found it, lass! You found it!" His voice rang out through the Hall. "I might have known you would find it!" In his joy, he forgot completely that the assembled crowd didn't know what he was talking about.

"Found what?" Dr. Prescott asked the question everyone had on his tongue.

"The passage, the secret passage from the old gatehouse to the castle here," he answered. "Only a few know of its existence. Evidently my brother here has forgotten. How did you find it, lass?"

"I scarcely know," Nan admitted. "When I found myself locked up, I tried all sorts of ways of getting out without any success at all. I was standing on a chair and trying to climb to that window high above--"

"But that's impossible, lass," James Blake interrupted.

"I know," Nan agreed, "but I was so anxious to get out of there that nothing seemed impossible. Climbing up as I did, I felt closer to the outside anyway. I thought, too, that there was a slight chance of my getting hold of those rough stones that the walls are made of in such a way that I could climb up to the window.

"I couldn't, of course, but in trying, my foot slipped into a nick of some kind in the wall. I pressed down hard on it, hoping to boost myself up. I couldn't. I slipped. I fell. When I picked myself up, I saw that a sliding panel on the opposite wall had moved to one side leaving a great opening.

"I went through. It closed then. I walked on through the dark, and after what seemed ages, I came to the end. I groped around, knowing that there had to be something to make another panel move. Finally, I found it."

"That you did, lass," James Blake was beaming on her now, "and there's not another in England or Scotland or America either that would have found the same. I am proud of you, so proud of you that I'd like to have you stay here always. But that's not to be. Already there are things afoot that require your presence and the presence of your friends in London."

"In London! I know, but we're not leaving here yet, are we?" Nan's voice was almost pleading. "Not when we've just come."

"Yes, lass, that you are." James Blake was regretful, too. "But you'll be coming back."

"But why, why must we leave so soon?" Nan had learned just enough in her morning adventures about the grounds to make her want to explore every inch of the old castle. She had even considered, on her walk down the road and through the fields to the fateful gatehouse, the possibility of staying in Emberon through the coronation.

She had toyed with the idea of giving up the great London celebration so that she could live in the castle for a while. She had dismissed the thought, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Mason and Walter were to be in London. She was to meet the friends she had made on the boat there, and the London celebration at the crowning of the new King and Queen would be, she knew, grander than anything she had ever seen.

She wanted to go on to London and she wanted to stay here in Emberon, too! These things all rushed through her mind as she stood in the great old Hall talking to James Blake.

"Yes, lass," he repeated, "you've got to go. There's something waiting there for you that's far greater than anything that's ever happened to you before.

"You, in America, I don't know what you play when you are wee tots, but the children here are kings and queens when they play. A wooden box is their throne. With a lace curtain as a train for the queen then, and gold paper for a crown, they have all the trappings of royalty. All take part. Some are aids to the king. Others, to the queen.

"They live and breathe this from the time they first begin to notice things around them. So when the old king dies and the new king and queen come to live at Buckingham Palace and go to Westminster Cathedral to have the state crowns, gold with all sorts of precious jewels in them, put on their heads and the state swords put in their hands, then all the wee tots pretend they are ladies-in-waiting to the queen or gentlemen attendants of the king.

"When they see the grand pictures every place of the crowning at Westminster, they imagine themselves giving a sword to the king or helping to arrange the train of the queen. Aye, in imagination they are all there in that beautiful Cathedral helping with the service.

"But actually, only a few are so honored in real life. The privilege to assist at the crowning of the English king is passed down by great families from generation to generation." He paused here to let the young lassies get the full importance of his words.

Nan looked from him to her friends. What was this all about? What did it have to do with her going to London? Dr. Prescott seemed to know! She was smiling down at Nan. The other girls, did they know, too? They seemed to understand. Their faces were radiant as the old Scotsman spoke, for the truth is, they were understanding for the first time what James Blake had meant an hour before. He had said something then about the privilege of taking part in the coronation going across the water. Could he have meant--

Now they all looked up at him as he concluded. "Nancy dear," he said, "as you know, the old Blake line has died out. Those who would have carried out the ancient privilege of assisting at the present crowning in London are dead. However, under terms of the will of the late Hugh Blake, you" he spoke low and slowly now, but very distinctly, "are chosen to act as a lady-in-waiting to the queen, God bless her soul! That is why you must be off to London now."