” It is indeed.”

“I’m having a wonderful time going through the records. It’s always been an ambition of mine to have a living in Cornwall. It’s the most intriguing of all the counties—don’t you think, Mrs. Pendorric?”

” I can well believe it might be.”

” So individual. I always say to Susan that as soon as you cross the Tamar you notice the difference. It’s like entering a different world—far away from prosaic England. Here in Cornwall one feels anything might happen. It’s a fey country. It’s due to the old superstitions and customs. There are still people here who really do leave bread and milk on their doorsteps for the Little People. And they swear it’s disappeared by morning.”

” I warned you,” said Roc, ” that our vicar is enthusiastic about the customs of the place.”

“I’m afraid I am. Mrs. Pendorric, are you interested?”

” I hadn’t thought much about it. But I believe I could be.”

” Good.

We must have a talk some time. ” We started to walk round the church and he went on: ” These are the Pendorric pews. Set apart from the rest, you see . at the side of the pulpit. I believe in the old days they used to be filled by the family and the retainers. Things have changed considerably. “

He pointed to one of the most beautiful of the stained-glass windows.

” That was put in in seventeen ninety-two in memory of Lowella Pendorric. I think the colouring of the glass is the most exquisite I’ve ever seen.”

” You’ve seen her picture in the north hall,” Roc reminded me. ” Oh yes … didn’t she die young?”

” Yes,” said the vicar, ” in childbirth with her first child. She was only eighteen. They call her the First Bride….”

” The first! But there must have been other brides. I understood there had been Pendorrics for centuries.”

The vicar stared blankly at the window.

“The sayings become attached and the origins are often steeped in legend. This is a memorial to another Pendorric. A great hero. A friend and supporter of Jonathan Trelawny who is himself buried at Pelynt, not so very far from here.

The Trelawny, you know, who defied James II and of whom we sing:

‘ And shall Trelawny die?

Here’s twenty thousand Cornishmen will know the reason why. “”

He went on to point out other features of the church, and after renewing his wife’s invitation to coffee, he left us, but not before saying that he looked forward to meeting me soon and that if I wanted any information about ancient Cornwall he would be pleased to give it to me.

I thought his kind face was a little anxious as he laid his hand on my arm and said: ” It doesn’t do to take much notice of these old stories, Mrs. Pendorric. They’re interesting just as curiosities, that’s all.”

He left us outside the church and Roc gave a little sigh. ” He can be rather trying when he gets on to his favourite hobby. I began to think we were in for one of his longer lectures and we’d never get rid of him.” He looked at his watch. ” Now we’ll have to hurry. But just a quick look round the old graveyard. Some of the inscriptions are amusing.”

We picked our way between the gravestones; some were so old that the words which had been engraved upon them were obliterated altogether; others leaned at grotesque angles.

We stopped before one which must have been more sheltered from the winds and weather than most, for although the date on it was 1779 the words were clearly visible. Roc began to read them aloud: “When you, my friends, behold Where now I lie, Remember ‘tis appointed For all men once to die. For I myself in prime of life The Lord took me away And none that’s on the Earth can tell How long they in’t may stay.”

He turned to me, smiling: “Cheerful!” he said.

“Your turn. When Morwenna and I were children we used to come here and read them to each other, taking turns.”

I paused before another stone, slightly less ancient, the date being 1842.

” Though some of you perhaps may think From dangers to be free Yet in a moment may be sent Into the grave like me.” I stopped and said: ” The theme is similar.”

” What do you expect here among the dead? It’s appropriate enough.”

” I’d rather find one that didn’t harp so much on death.”

” Not so easy,” said Roc. ” But follow me.” He led the way through the long grass and eventually stopped and began to read; ” Though I was both deaf and dumb Much pleasure did I take With my fingers and my thumb All my wants to relate.”

We smiled. ” That’s more cheerful,” I agreed. ” I’m so glad he was able to find pleasure through his misfortune.”

I turned to look at a stone nearby, and as I did so I tripped over the edge of a curb which was ‘hidden in the long grass and I went sprawling headlong over a grave.

Roc picked me up. ” All right, darling? Not hurt?”

” I’m all right, thanks.” I looked ruefully at my stocking. ” A run-ladder. That seems to be all the damage.”

” Sure?” The anxiety in his eyes made me feel very happy and I forgot my earlier vague misgivings. I assured him that I was all right and he said: ” Now some of our neighbours would say that was an omen.”

” What sort of an omen?”

” I couldn’t tell you. But falling over a grave! I’m sure they’d see something very significant in that. And on your first visit to the churchyard too.”

” Life must be very difficult for some people,” I mused. ” If they’re continually seeing omens it doesn’t give them much chance of exercising their own free will.”

“And you believe in being the master of your fate and captain of your soul, and the fault not being in your stars and so on?”

“Yes, I think I do. And you, Roc?”

He took my hand suddenly and kissed it. ” As usual you and I are in unison.” He looked about him and said: ” And that’s the family vault over there.”

” I must see that.”

I made my way to it, more cautiously this time. Roc following. It was an ornate mausoleum of iron and gilt, with three steps leading down to the door.

” Locked away there are numerous dead Pendorrics,” said Roc. I tamed away. ” I’ve thought enough about death for one bright summer’s morning,” I told him.

He put his arms round me and kissed me. Then he released me and went down the three steps to examine the door. I stood back, where he had left me, and saw that on one of the gilded spikes of me railings a wreath of laurels had been put.

I went towards it and looked at it more closely. There was a card attached to it and on it was written: ” For Barbarina.”

I did not mention the wreath to Roc when he came up to roe. He did not seem to have noticed it.

I felt a strong desire to get away from this place of death; away to the sun and the sea.

Lunch was a pleasant meal served in one of the small rooms leading off the north hall. I felt that during it I became better, acquainted with Morwenna and Charles, who were determined to make me feel at home. The twins and Rachel Bective ate with us. Lowella was garrulous; Hyson said scarcely a word; and Rachel behaved as though she were indeed a friend of the family. She reproved Lowella for over-exuberance, and seemed determined to be friendly with me. I wondered whether I had made a hasty judgment when I had decided I did not like her. After lunch Roc and Charles went off together and I went to my room to get a book. I had decided that I would do what I had wanted to ever since I had seen it—sit under one of the palm trees in the quadrangle.

I took my book and found my way out. It was delightfully cool under the tree, and as I sat gloating on the beauty of the place it occurred to me there was a look of a Spanish patio about it. The hydrangeas were pink, blue, and white, and multi-coloured masses of delightful blooms; the lavender scented the air about the water over which bronze Hermes was poised; I saw the flash of gold as the fish swam to and fro.

I tried to read, but I found it difficult to concentrate because of those windows which would not allow me to feel alone. I looked up at them. Who would want to peer out at me I asked myself. And if someone did, what would it matter? I knew I was being absurd.

I went back to my book, and as I sat reading there I heard a movement close behind me, and I was startled when a pair of hands were placed over my eyes and quite unable to repress a gasp as I said rather more sharply than I intended: ” Who is it?” As I touched the hands, which were not very large, I heard a low chuckle and a voice said: ” You have to guess.”

” Lowella.”

The child danced before me. ” I can stand on my head,” she announced.

” I bet you can’t.”

She proved her words, her long thin legs in navy-blue shorts waving perilously near the pond.

” All right,” I told her, ” you’ve proved it.” She turned a somersault and landed on her feet, then stood smiling at me, her face pink with the effort.

” How did you guess Lowella?” she asked.

” I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

” It might have been Hyson.”

” I was certain it was Lowella.”

“Hyson doesn’t do things like that, does she?”

” I think Hyson’s a little shy.”

She tamed another somersault.

“Are you afraid?” she asked suddenly.

“Afraid of what?”

“Being one of the Brides.”

“What brides?”

” The Brides of Pendorric, of course.”

She stood very still, her eyes narrowed, as she surveyed me. ” You don’t know, do you?” she said.

” That’s why I’m asking you to tell me.” She came towards me and, putting her hands on my knees, she looked searchingly into my face; she was so close that I could see the long dark eyes which slightly resembled Roc’s, and the clear unblemished skin. I was aware of another quality which reminded me of Roc. I thought I sensed a certain mischief in her look but I was not sure. ” Will you tell me?”