One night I went in and I heard Belinda say: “It must have been exciting when they dragged the pool … to look for Rebecca and found the murderer.”

I was shocked that they had learned that. I did not mention it. Belinda seemed to know that I might have heard her comment and guessed it was a subject I would not encourage for she immediately said that Petal had to go to the blacksmith the next day. Tom Grimes had said they could go in and see her shod.

I left them, wondering where they got their information. I suppose dramatic events were remembered and it was inevitable that they should hear some of them.

It was one of our Saturdays which had become very precious to us. Pedrek came riding over to Cador where I was waiting for him. We were to go off riding together.

“Why can’t we come, too?” demanded Belinda.

“Because they have a good deal to talk about,” my grandmother explained.

“I don’t mind listening,” said Belinda, which made us all laugh.

She was a little sullen when we left and Lucie showed clearly that she did not like it either. But for Pedrek and me the happy day had begun.

We were in such harmony that we did not always have to speak; we often understood the other’s train of thought. This gave me a wonderfully cozy feeling. I was growing closer than ever to Pedrek—as close as I had been to my mother—and that gave me great content.

We would laugh all the time—at nothing often, just out of sheer happiness. Simple things seemed extraordinarily amusing—and there were so many plans to be made.

It was nearly a year since he had gone to college, he reminded me. “Halfway there. Just think of that.”

“It seems such a long time since you asked me to marry you.”

“It seems an age … yet half of it has gone. Sometimes I think I can’t wait and I am on the point of abducting you.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” I told him. “I’d come without protest.”

“Then … why don’t we?”

“What about college?”

He was thoughtful. “There’s a good deal to learn.”

“You must learn it then. You would hate to think there were things you didn’t know. The more you learn the more likely you are to stop accidents like …”

“I think so. There is so much known about the soil now. I am finding out all sorts of things which would astonish my grandfather.”

“We shall have to be patient for another year.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t start on the house. It will take some time to get all that settled. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get it all ready … so that it is there for us. We could do all that while we are waiting.”

“That would be fun. I wonder what your grandfather would say about it.”

“He would probably like the idea and I am sure my grandmother would.”

“It would make us feel that we were almost there.”

“I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll start looking. Next week-end we’ll begin in earnest. How’s that?”

“It’s a marvelous idea.”

“It will have to be in the vicinity of the mine.”

“It looks as if we may have to build.”

“Yes … something in between the families. We want to please both sides.”

“They would appreciate it if we were half way. We’ll start looking now.”

The search added zest to the day.

We stopped at an inn—a charming old place called The King’s Head. There was a picture on the old sign, of Charles II, saturnine in spite of a certain lustful look and a luxuriously curly wig. We went into the parlor with its oak beams, leaded windows and great open fireplace round which sparkling horse brasses were displayed.

We drank cider from pewter pots and ate cheese with hot bread straight from the oven.

We talked of the house we would have. I saw it materialize before my eyes—the hall, the wide staircase, the rooms upstairs, and I realized I was creating a place which was something between Cador and Pencarron Manor.

“You wouldn’t like a Victorian house,” said Pedrek. “Your heart is in the past.”

“I’ll tell you something,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind what period it was as long as we were in it together.”

On the way back we looked for likely sites and inspected them critically.

“It would be very open here. Imagine the southwest gales.”

“And wouldn’t it be lonely?”

“Not with servants. Lucie will be there. Oh, Pedrek, what about Belinda?”

“She can come, too.”

“She’ll have to be with her father. He will insist. He has to preserve the family atmosphere.”

“She can come and stay with us.”

“I don’t know how she and Lucie will feel about being apart.”

“Are they such good friends?”

“Not exactly. I think they have become a habit to each other. They quarrel of course as all children do … but I don’t think they would like to be separated.”

“They’ll get used to it.”

“I wonder what my stepfather will say. He is supposed to be my guardian, you know.”

“I shall be your guardian soon.”

“I am not sure I like this talk of guardians. I like to think I am my own. But there is a point. I should have to get his consent, I suppose.”

“We’ll get married first and tell him afterwards.”

We agreed that that was a good idea; but it did not answer the question of how the girls would feel to be separated.

They would be a year older then. They seemed so knowledgeable sometimes that I forgot how young they were. But I suppose most children are aware of what is going on. They have sharp enquiring minds; all they lack is the experience which comes through living.

Pedrek came back with me to Cador.

The girls dashed out to welcome me home and they both flung themselves at me. Belinda first … Lucie in her turn. It was comforting to receive such a welcome.

“We’ve been riding this afternoon. Then we went for a walk with Leah … to the pool.”

“I suppose you did,” I said. I turned to Pedrek. “It’s one of their favorite places.”

“Well, it does have an air of mystery.”

“All those legends … bells and monks,” I said.

“And other things,” added Belinda.

“What things?” I asked.

“Other things,” she repeated, smiling mysteriously.

My grandmother came into the room. “Oh, you’re back. Good. Had a pleasant day?”

We assured her we had had a wonderful day.

Pedrek stayed to dine which was served a little earlier on Saturdays so that he would not be too late getting back to Pencarron.

We talked to my grandparents about our search for a suitable site on which to build our future home.

“Well, did you decide?”

“Not really. We’ll look further next week, won’t we, Pedrek?”

“Talking of houses,” said my grandfather, “I saw the people at High Tor this afternoon. They’re leaving.”

“Are they? After all this time?”

“Yes. The son is coming home from Germany. He’s been living there for some years. He says he fancies getting a place in Dorset and … I’ve forgotten what their name is.”

“Stenning,” supplied my grandmother.

“That’s right. Stenning. Well, he said they will be getting a place there to be near the son. They rented High Tor because they didn’t want to commit themselves to buying before their son came home.”

“That means High Tor will either be to let or for sale,” said my grandmother looking at me.

I glanced at Pedrek.

“High Tor,” I murmured. “It’s a nice place.”

“And ancient,” added Pedrek.

“Well,” added my grandmother. “It’s an idea. I daresay it will be some time before the Stennings are ready to leave, but … as I said … it’s an idea.”

High Tor had taken possession of my thoughts and the next Saturday Pedrek and I rode out there. It looked different from what it had before. I suppose that was because there was a possibility that it might one day be our house.

“Do you think,” said Pedrek, “that we might call on the Stennings?”

“Why not? They may not know us well but they know who we are.”

“Let’s go then,” said Pedrek.

So we rode in through the cobbled courtyard under the archway to the oak iron-studded door.

A servant came out, and Pedrek asked if Mr. or Mrs. Stenning were at home.

Mrs. Stenning came down. She was a little surprised but extremely hospitable and soon we were seated in the drawing room. We told her that we had heard that she and her husband were contemplating leaving High Tor to settle in Dorset and as we planned to marry in a year’s time we were interested in the house.

She opened her eyes wide and said: “What a good idea! I don’t know whether the owners want to sell or rent it … but I could find out. You probably know them.”

“Very well,” I said. “My stepfather is married to the lady who was Miss Celeste Bourdon.”

“Of course. Well, that is interesting. We shall be leaving fairly soon. We are taking a house in Dorchester and there we shall stay until we find a suitable property. This is a very interesting house, this. We shall be sorry to leave it. Most of the furniture is ours though the Bourdons did leave one or two pieces. But in any case you would want your own. Would you like to see over it?”

We spent an interesting hour being taken round. The house had been built in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century. I liked the gables with their pediments and the casements and leaded lights.

Mr. Stenning joined us and he was quite knowledgeable about architecture. He said he thought the house was in the style of the Inigo Jones period and the architects had learned a great deal from him.

“He went to Italy and studied the buildings there. You can detect the influence of that.”

I was not interested so much in the architecture. I was just seeing it as our future home.

The Stennings insisted that we take tea with them and this we did in the drawing room with its gracious proportions and casement windows. It was indeed a beautiful house.

We talked of it incessantly and could hardly wait to get back to Cador and tell my grandparents about it.

They were as thrilled as we were.

“It would be ideal for you,” said my grandfather. “I daresay we shall soon hear what the Bourdons intend to do.”

We became obsessed by the house. We talked of nothing else.

A few days after we had been shown over it, we had a note from the Stennings saying that if at any time we wished to look at High Tor, or ask them questions about it, they would be delighted to show or tell us if they knew the answer.

We took the first opportunity of calling.

They told us there was a change of plans and they intended to leave a few weeks earlier than they had originally arranged to. In ten days they would be gone.

They could give us the Chislehurst address of the Bourdons or perhaps we would prefer to approach them through Mrs. Lansdon.

The Pencarrons came over to Cador to dine and there was a consultation between the two lots of grandparents. Mine were more romantically minded than Mr. Pencarron. “We didn’t want to find we had a ruin on our hands,” he said.

Pedrek reminded him that houses which had stood up to the weather for a few hundred years could surely do so for a few hundred more. But Mr. Pencarron thought that a good, solid modern place might be better.

“It’s due to being brought up at Cador,” said my grandmother. “There is something romantic about living in houses where lots of people have lived before.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Mr. Pencarron, “we want to have a good look at the place.”

“That can be easily done,” said my grandfather.

Pedrek and I knew that we wanted it. We did go round it once more and our rides always took us past it. We would sit in a field where we could look up at the grey gables and dream of the days when it would be ours.

Pedrek had written to the Bourdons and received a reply.

They were not entirely certain what they intended to do but would decide quickly. We sighed with impatience and continued to regard it as our house.

We had just had luncheon. It was one of those week days which I lived through, longing for the week-end to come. The children had gone for a ride, one of the grooms accompanying them. I was with my grandmother who wanted to show me something in the garden. As we came out of the house one of the maids announced a visitor.

I was amazed and excited to see Jean Pascal Bourdon. He took my grandmother’s hand and kissed it; then did the same to me.

“What a pleasure!” he said. “I have descended on you charming ladies to pay my respects. I am to be in Cornwall for a little while. How good it is to see you! And Mademoiselle Rebecca is looking so well …”