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.
Gwennol said: "How strange that you should have met Michael and did not mention it."
"I suppose there were so many other things to talk about."
"And you hurt your ankle in the woods."
"Yes, just as he appeared, I tripped and fell. Then he took me to the Manor House and brought me back to the inn."
She gave a little laugh. "You apparently didn't hurt your ankle very badly."
"It was just a temporary twist. It was all right the next morning."
"Just a convenient little twist," she said, and before I could give expression to my indignation she had turned and run into the castle.
I went up to my room. The pleasant day had been spoilt. I should have to be careful now and stay away from Hydrock Manor.
Jago looked at me reproachfully. We were at dinner that night and he had asked how I had been spending the day. I told him I had been to the mainland.
"What, Ellen, deserting us already?"
"It was only for a few hours."
"There's so much on the Island you haven't seen yet."
"I shall appreciate it all the more for having been away for a day."
"You have what we call here a silvery tongue. You say the right thing, doesn't she, Gwennol?"
"I'm sure she does... on every occasion," said Gwennol shortly.
"Well, where did you go?" asked Jago.
"To Hydrock Manor."
"Both of you?"
"I'd met Michael Hydrock before."
Jago put down his knife and fork and gazed at me. I was aware of Jenifry's eyes on me too. Gwennol kept hers on her plate.
I repeated once more the account of my meeting with Michael in the woods and how I had hurt my ankle.
"You were hurt!" cried Jago. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"It was nothing. In fact, the next day I had forgotten about it."
"It was one of those temporary twists," said Gwennol, and I detected a note of sarcasm in her voice.
"And what happened then?" asked Jenifry.
"He took me to the Manor and a Mrs. Hocking—the housekeeper, I think—looked at it and said I shouldn't walk on it for a while and then Sir Michael drove me back to the inn."
"A very perfect gentleman," commented Jago.
"I thought so," I retorted.
I realized that this information had disturbed both Jago and Jenifry.
Jago said: "Tomorrow I will show you more of the Island. There's a good deal you have to discover yet, you know."
"Thank you," I replied.
"I was telling Ellen," said Gwennol, "that she should practice rowing."
"Have you ever rowed?" asked Jago.
"Yes, but not at sea, on a river, which I suppose was different."