"Ellen may have other plans," suggested Gwennol. "She said she wanted to explore the countryside."

"As a matter of fact," I answered, "it had occurred to me that I might call at the Manor." I turned to Michael. "You did say that I might call when I was on the mainland."

"In fact," he replied, "I should have been very hurt if you hadn't."

"I'm looking forward to seeing the Manor again."

"Ah, now you've lived in the castle. We're not as grand as that, I'm afraid."

"The Manor is beautiful," I said.

"It's the most beautiful house I've ever seen," added Gwennol fervently.

"Thank you, Gwennol," said Michael. "Do you know, I rather think the same myself."

We went into the yard where the horses were ready for us. Mrs. Pengelly, delighted to have her son with her for a few hours and pleased, I think, to see me again, watched us ride off. In a very short time we were in the drive leading to the Manor.

"I'm going to show you the house, Miss Kellaway," said Michael to me. "You didn't see it last time. By the way, how's the ankle?"

"I never felt any more from it. The next morning I shouldn't have known anything had happened to it."

"So you hurt your ankle then?" asked Gwennol.

I told her in more detail what had happened; she listened intently, but her expression was less pleasant, as though she were brooding.

We went into the hall with its refectory table, pewter ornaments and companion benches and I felt that sense of peace which I had experienced when I had last been here.

"There's something so friendly about this house," I commented.

"We all feel it," said Gwennol shortly.

"Yes," added Michael, "there's a saying in the family that the house will either welcome or reject you and that one knows it almost as soon as one enters it. It certainly seems to welcome you, Miss Kellaway."

"That is endowing a house with a personality," I replied. "I do that. I didn't know many people did."

"Rather a fanciful notion, you think. But as you are so impressed by the house I should like to show it to you. You don't mind, Gwennol? Gwennol is a very old friend," he told me. "She knows the house as well as I do."

"I'd love to see it," I assured him, and Gwennol put in: "You know very well I can't see enough of the place."

"Look at that armor on the walls. Those breastplates were worn by ancestors of mine during the Civil War. These pewter vessels have been used by the family for hundreds of years. I like to keep everything as it was as far as possible."

"Jago is like that too, isn't he, Gwennol?" I said, for I was anxious that she should join in the conversation. I realized by this time that she had been expecting Michael at the inn and that he was the friend whom she was proposing to visit. She had not therefore been very pleased that I had already met him and was joining them. I fancied too that her feelings towards him were warmer than those of ordinary friendship; there was something about the manner in which she looked at him which betrayed it and the softness of her eyes and mouth was rare with her, I was sure.

"Jago would like to go back to feudal days," said Gwennol sharply. "He'd like to be not only the lord of the manor but lord of us all."

"He's very proud of the Island," I said, defending him, "and justly so. I've been talking to some of the people on my walks and it's easy to see how they respect him. He's done a great deal for the place."

"My dear Ellen, they're afraid to say a word against him. If he's not entirely their lord and master he's at least their landlord. He could turn them out of their homes tomorrow if they offended him."

"I am sure he would do no such thing," I said warmly.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at Michael. "Ellen has a great deal to learn," she said.

In his easy manner he diverted the subject from Jago and said: "Come and look at the chapel."

Our footsteps rang out as we crossed the stone flags of the hall and he led us up a stone spiral staircase to a heavy oak iron-studded door.

"Many a drama has taken place here. There's a priest's hole in this chapel I'll show you. There's also a lepers' squint. One can imagine the terror when the priest had to be hidden away at a moment's notice. One of my ancestors married a Spanish lady and she was the one who was reckless enough to have a priest in the house. Someday I intend to compile a history of the family. There are lots of documents in the vaults under the chapel."

"That sounds exciting."

"It's the sort of occupation which is fun if you share it with someone. Gwennol has promised to help me."

"There's nothing I should like more," she said, becoming animated. "Particularly with a family such as yours, Michael. Ours is rather different." She grimaced. "We're more the brigand type. You are the aristocrats."

"There are skeletons in the cupboards of most families," commented Michael. "Who knows what we shall unearth in these documents."

"What an exciting thought!" cried Gwennol, and she looked as though she would like to suggest they get down to the task immediately and leave me to wander round on my own.

The floor of the chapel was paved with small square stones set in a mosaic pattern. There were about twelve pews with linenfold ends. On the altar was a very fine cloth worked, he told me, by his grandmother, so comparatively recent. "There are two squints," he went on, "one is the lepers' squint from a small room beyond where lepers might come and look through into the chapel without contaminating or distressing those who were there. The other ..." He pointed upwards. "That comes from a little alcove from above where the ladies used to congregate when they did not wish to come down to the chapel, perhaps through sickness or some incapacity. Now I'll take you to the solarium and show you the other squint."

"You see how wonderful it is," said Gwennol, "to belong to such a family."

"It's rather like a chain coming down through time," said Michael. "From each link springs another and so on. Luckily we have always had boys in the family, so the name has been preserved. I want my sons to have sons and so the name will be carried on."

"Have you sons?" I asked.

He laughed. "I haven't married so far."

"But you will," I said. "You will regard it as a duty to do so."

"I should like it to be something more than that."

Gwennol was looking at him intently and I thought: Yes, she is in love with him. I'm in the way. I shouldn't be with them. I ought to have seen that and said I wanted to go off on my own. She shows it clearly and just because he's too polite to show he doesn't really want me, I imagined he was eager for me to come.

"The solarium is a bright room—naturally," he was saying. "The room built to catch the sunshine. It does too. I believe it was used as a ballroom at one time. There is a screen across it to make it into two rooms but it is rarely used now. I like it to be as it was originally intended." He led the way. It was necessary to pass through the punch room, where I had been on my last visit, and we mounted some stone stairs, passed along a passage and were in the solarium. The sun streamed through the wide windows onto the deep blue of the tapestry which adorned one side of the wall and which depicted the Civil War. There were the battlefields—Naseby and Marston Moor—and on the opposite side of the room Prince Charles in the oak tree and being welcomed in London on the Restoration.

I examined them closely and was enchanted by the fine workmanship and the subtle colors. He watched me, obviously pleased with my absorption.

"Here you see the squint," he said. "Come into this alcove. This is where the ladies sat and as you see they look right down into the chapel. Let us sit here for a while. I want to tell Miss Kellaway about our ghost, Gwennol."

Gwennol nodded. "You'll like this one, Ellen. It's the nicest ghost that ever was."

"There were three sisters at the house," said Michael. "They each wished to marry and their father would not give his consent. One ran away and left the family forever; the two others remained; they grew more bitter every day; their lives were a misery to them and all around them. They never forgave their father and the story is that when he was dying he begged their forgiveness and they refused to give it. And he is our ghost. He is said to be a benign one. He roams the house trying to earn forgiveness for his selfishness by making everything go smoothly for lovers."

"That certainly is the most pleasant ghost story I ever heard."

"It was in this room he died," he said. "This room is supposed to be good for lovers. In those days there was a bed in the far end which was divided off by the screen. That was his bedroom. It is said that all Hydrock marriages are happy ones now because of his influence."

"Well, he has certainly earned forgiveness for his sins."

"Indeed he has. But it's a pleasant thought don't you agree? Brides come to this house with the feeling that their marriages must be happy because old Simon Hydrock will not allow them to be otherwise."

"It must be a very comfortable thought for a Hydrock bride."

He was smiling at me. "I assure you it is. My mother used to tell me the story often. She was a happy bride. 'When you have a bride,' she used to say, 'tell her that she will have special care.'"

"And she herself did?"

"It was her way of looking at life. Isn't that what happiness is? You could put two people in the same set of circumstances and one would think him- or herself happy while another would be full of complaints. When I was ten years old she knew she was suffering from an incurable disease. She lived exactly ten months in that state. She told me about it because she wanted me to know the truth and not listen to garbled stories. 'I'm fortunate,' she said. 'I've had such a happy life and now that I'm ill I shall die before I'm in pain.' And she did. She did not suffer at all, though had she lived longer she inevitably would."

I was deeply moved by the story, so was Gwennol. Her eyes never left Michael as he talked.

"Now," he said, "we'll go to luncheon. I'm sure you are ready for it after your sea trip."

"How kind of you," I said. "I didn't expect to be invited to luncheon. Perhaps I..."

They were both looking at me and I went on: "I think Gwennol was expected but I..."

"We're delighted to have you," said Michael warmly. "Yes, Gwennol was expected. I had the message," he told her. "It never fails." He turned back to me. "It's an excellent method of communication. With all that water between us we can never be sure when messages will reach us. Slack sends them over by carrier pigeon. He trains the birds, you know. He has a magical touch. We have pigeons here, too. After luncheon we'll show Miss Kellaway the gardens, won't we, Gwennol?"

I enjoyed sitting at the table in the dining room with its window looking out over smooth lawns, I loved that aura of brooding peace and I thought it emanated from the spirit of the old man who had ruined his daughters' lives and had tried to atone ever since. I sat in my chair, which was covered in dark red velvet, and looked across the table at Michael Hydrock and it seemed to me that he was a man who was completely contented with his lot, which is a rare thing. I could not help comparing him with Jago—that restless spirit, those changing moods, the unpredictability which I could not help finding half attractive, half repelling, but always intriguing.

After luncheon we strolled through the Manor grounds. They were beautifully kept and conventional. There was the fashionable Italian garden, the English rose garden, the shrubbery, paddocks and well-kept lawns. There were several gardeners at work who touched their forelocks as we passed. Michael Hydrock was, I was sure, a highly respected and benign master.

When it was time for us to return to the inn, Michael accompanied us and there was Slack waiting to row us across.

"Come again soon," said Michael, and there was no doubt that I was included in that invitation.

Gwennol was silent as we rowed back. She scarcely looked at me. I sensed that there was a change in our relationship, for whereas before she had been inclined to want to make me feel at home, now she was suspicious of me.

When we reached the Island we left Slack to tie up the boat and made our way to the castle.