“Your grandmother…?”

“You’ll meet her. She is in her room most of the time nowadays.”

“You mean she is here?”

He nodded. “Where else would she be? She loves me place. It is an interest we share.”

“And…what about the feud?”

He laughed. “She feels about that as I do…as you do. A lot of nonsense.”

“That’s the sensible view, of course.”

“Yes, but in spite of that, it has been going on for a long time.”

“It is due to the superstitious people around us. They have kept it going all this time.”

“I suppose it supplies a little excitement, something to talk about.”

“That’s so, and, of course, since the first Mrs. Tregarland died it brought it up again.”

“But the families were never friendly. We needed a visitor from ‘foreign parts’ to set it right.”

I laughed. “Do you think the fact that you have invited me here is going to change all that?”

“I think it is the first step.”

We talked for a long time and I glanced at my watch.

“I shall have to go,” I said, “Dorabella will be anxious to hear about this visit.”

He stood up and, taking my hand, helped me to rise. He held it for some time while he smiled at me. I felt deep pleasure.

“Before you go,” he said, “you must say hello to my grandmother.”

“I should very much like that.”

“Come on, then.”

He led me up a staircase, through a gallery to a corridor, and then up more stairs.

He opened the door of a room which was clearly a sitting room and, through an open door, I saw a four-poster bed. Mrs. Charlotte Jermyn was sitting in a chair, a piece of crochet work in her hands. She looked over the top of her spectacles as I came in.

“Grandmother,” said Jowan. “I have brought her to show you and to show you to her.”

She smiled. “Well, this is nice.” She had dropped the crochet into her lap and held out her hand.

“I’m a bit stiff today,” she said. “It’s my rheumatism. It is worse some days than others. They say this damp climate is not good for it. Well, Miss Denver, it is nice to see you here. Jowan has told me about you.”

“I am so pleased to be here and to meet you.”

She laughed. “It’s time someone put their feet through that nonsense. I guessed Jowan would be the one to do it. And now your sister is up there and you are a frequent visitor.”

“I came for the birth of the baby and shall be staying until after Christmas.”

“That is good. We always have a real Cornish Christmas here. We call it keeping up the old customs. Tell me about your sister and the new baby.”

I told her and we talked awhile.

Jowan watched us in an amused way, pleased, I could see, that we were getting on well together.

I was sorry that I had to leave, but I could imagine Dorabella’s impatience, so I said I must go.

“You’ll come again,” said Mrs. Jermyn. “I shall look forward to seeing you.”

It was with reluctance that at last I left.

Dorabella was very impatient to hear what had happened. She was eager to meet Jowan and suggested that he be invited to the house. To dinner? To lunch, perhaps, would be best for a start.

“He sounds fun,” she said, looking at me searchingly.

I knew what was in her mind, just as I knew what had been in my mother’s concerning Richard Dorrington.

I said: “You should make sure that the family approve. Don’t forget, this feud has been going on for a hundred years or more. You come into the family and want to break it up.”

“I want to break it up! Who fell off her horse and started it up by meeting him secretly, going to his house, meeting his grandmother…” She giggled. “All right. I’ll suggest it to Dermot.”

“I think Dermot’s father should be the one to make the decision. After all, he is the head of the household.”

“Very well. But I think he’d love it.”

“And what about Matilda?”

“Well, I suppose, now I am the mistress of the house. Matilda, after all, is only a glorified housekeeper.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“It is for your ears alone.”

The result of this was that Jowan and his grandmother were invited to lunch.

As we had guessed, old Mr. Tregarland had no objection and enjoyed the meeting tremendously, as I am sure Jowan’s grandmother did. I think they relished the behavior of the servants and I imagined the news would travel fast. The Jermyns were making friends with the Tregarlands, and it was all due to the second Mrs. Tregarland and her sister!

It was a very pleasant lunch.

The days were passing quickly. Mary Grace had returned to London, taking with her the finished picture of Dorabella which was to be fitted into the frame. My mother would bring it with her when she came for Christmas.

Then Christmas came. My parents joined us and we were all very merry.

There was the ceremony of bringing in the log and what they called the “wassailing,” when the head of the family stood by a bowl of spiced wine from which he drank before passing it round so that everyone might have a sip. It seemed a rather unhealthy procedure, but we were told that it had been done since Saxon days and it was considered unlucky not to cling to the old ways.

Carol singers came; they were invited into the hall to partake of wine and cakes. Then there were the guise dances, when the young dressed up in any costumes they could find—the girls mostly as boys and the boys as girls; those who had no costumes just blacked their faces and danced through the lanes and into the courtyard.

Jowan knew a great many more old customs and said some of them went back to pre-Christian days and most people nowadays had forgotten them.

It always meant that when the dancers and the carol singers arrived at the big houses they must be invited in and given food and drink. It was all part of the Christmas spirit.

On Boxing Day we were invited to the Jermyns. It was a buffet supper and there would be dancing. Dermot, Dorabella, and I went. It was amusing and there were people there whom we had never seen before.

There were two whom Jowan had met when he was traveling on the Continent: Hans Fleisch, a young German, and a Frenchman, Jacques Dubois. They were painters who had found inspiration in the wild Cornish coast and were staying at an inn nearby.

They were lively and amusing, and they clearly thought Dorabella charming and paid considerable attention to her, which delighted her.

It was a pleasant evening and confirmed once again that all the nonsense about feuds was at an end.

I was sorry that I should be going home soon, but I had been away for a long time.

My mother said I really must come home. Dorabella was her old self now. She was contented, and she had her own life to lead.

I felt uncertain. I had become more friendly with Jowan Jermyn and was seeing him in a new light; but I could not escape from the feelings of uneasiness which overcame me at Tregarland’s.

I remembered our trip to London; the fun we had had and how gratified I had been to discover Mary Grace’s talent. It seemed like a different world; and if I enjoyed being with Jowan, I had had a very good time with the Dorringtons.

Perhaps it would be pleasant to return to Caddington for a while. I would leave with my parents.

In the town people seemed to take a special interest in me. They would know, of course, about the changed relationship between the Jermyns and the Tregarlands. I wanted to escape from the gossip. It would be pleasant to go to London where one was a private person and no one had the faintest idea what was happening in one’s life.

Seth was very broody at this time. He seemed to be more concerned about the friendship between Jermyns and Tregarlands than anyone—but perhaps he showed it more.

One day I spoke to him about it. When I had gone to the stables he regarded me with melancholy eyes.

“Seth,” I said. “Why do you look like that?”

“It won’t do no good, Miss. It won’t…”

“What, Seth?” I asked.

“Meeting with ’em.”

“Meeting with whom?”

He waved his hand upwards. “They’m angry. That’s what they be. They won’t let ’ee forget. ’Twas you, Miss, after all, as started it.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Seth. It’s of no account.”

“It’ll be of account to ’ee, that it will. You mark my words.”

“Never mind, Seth,” I said. “Now…I want to take Starlight for a farewell ride.”

As the time for our departure grew near, Dorabella became really sad.

She said: “You’ve been here so long now, it seems as though you are part of the place. It’s going to be very lonely when you have gone.”

“But you have Dermot and Tristan.”

“I’ll miss you. It is different with us. We are like one person. We’ve always been together until now. Why can’t you stay?”

“When Dermot married you, he didn’t want your family around all the time.”

“But I want you.” Her face was petulantly puckered and I was touched because she looked as she had so many times during our childhood.

She went on: “Isn’t it exciting enough here? You want to go to London, don’t you? It’s more interesting there.”

“We have promised to go and stay with Edward and Gretchen. There’ll be the baby that is coming and the new house. You know how Mummy feels about that. Edward is like a son to her.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

My mother came in at that moment.

“Have you packed yet?” she asked me. “Why, Dorabella, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Why! We’ll be back in the spring. Perhaps you can come to us. I am sure Nanny Crabtree will allow Tristan to travel soon.”

Dorabella said nothing more about our traveling, but when we left she clung to me rather desperately.

While we were traveling home in the carriage my mother, who was staring thoughtfully out of the window, said suddenly: “I hope Dorabella hasn’t made a mistake.”

“What?” said my father, coming sharply out of a half doze.

“She seemed so upset about our going, particularly at losing Violetta.”

“Well,” said my father, “they have always been together so much. She’s all right.”

“I wouldn’t like to think…” mused my mother.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. She’s all right. She wants Dermot, the baby, and you as well. That’s just like Dorabella.”

I felt a certain relief to be home. Everything seemed normal.

There was quite a different atmosphere from that of Cornwall.

Memories of Mrs. Pardell came back to me—her resentments, her suspicions; then old Mr. Tregarland, whom I could not understand; Gordon Lewyth, who had seemed like a different person when we were on the cliffs together, though he had gradually reverted to the aloof man I had first known; then there was Seth with his vague and inarticulate warnings. He was half crazy, I told myself, but I was vaguely disturbed by him.

One night I dreamed I had been walking along the beach when a figure had risen from the waves and beckoned. I awoke in a fright and was relieved to find that I was in my bedroom in dear, normal, old Caddington, the home of my childhood, where everything was prosaically reasonable.

In February my mother and I went to stay with Edward and Gretchen. The house was looking more lived in now. The new baby was expected in April and my mother said we should be there for the great event. Gretchen could become quite excited discussing the baby, but I knew she was still very anxious about her family.

Of course, we were invited to the Dorringtons. Mary Grace and Mrs. Dorrington were delighted to see us. It was afternoon when we called and Richard was not at home.

“He will be so pleased to hear you have arrived,” we were told. “Edward did tell him you were coming. You must come and dine. What about tomorrow night?”

My mother promptly accepted the invitation.

In my room I took out the miniature of Dorabella which I had brought with me. I set it on the table by my bed and remembered my mother’s words when she had spoken of her misgivings. I had begun to wonder, too. We must remember that Dorabella often acted and spoke on impulse. She often gave more stress to her utterances than they deserved. She was lonely, she had said. That was because she liked to have us all around; my adventures with Jowan Jermyn provided a certain interest and amusement.

I studied the miniature. Mary Grace had caught Dorabella’s personality quite uncannily. Dear Dorabella. I hoped she was going to be happy. I remembered the joy in her face when she had seen my picture. She kept it in her bedroom, she said, but when I was not there she put it away because she did not want to look at it and miss me more. Though, she said, she did take it out at times to talk to it. I would understand her feelings because we always had understood each other.