itself was the view from the windows. There was so much to be seen from them; not only the whole length of the little High Street—but at the bottom of the street there was a glimpse to be caught of the harbour and the brown-sailed fishing-boats and the line of frowning cliffs beyond, and between the gabled roofs of the opposite houses a bit of the headland was visible and a shining breadth of open sea.
She was sitting with Kitty next morning in one of the broad window-seats, while Mr. Drew talked to Mr. Bulteel in his office, and Mrs. Bulteel was busy in the kitchen.
Kitty had been spending a delightful hour in showing Marjorie her dresses and jewellery, and describing to her the gaieties of the past winter. But now her spirits had flagged again. Marjorie was not the eager, admiring, envious listener she had bargained for; even the account of the fireworks at an evening fete in Vauxhall Gardens had failed to rouse her to enthusiasm. And she did not seem able to understand how Kitty could like living in a town as big as London, or why she felt bored in St. Mawan.
"These windows are so cheerful," said Marjorie, wonderingly. "Why, Kitty, how can you be dull here? There must be something to see all day long. Look! I think the fishing fleet must be going out. I hope we shall get down to the harbour before they are all gone. Do you think Mr. Bulteel will be ready soon?"
Kitty yawned, stretching out her pretty feet in their sandalled shoes and white open-work stockings.
"I don't think I shall go, Marjorie; a boat is so disagreeable, and I shall be certain to get my feet wet."
Marjorie's bright face clouded over.
"Oh, do come, Kitty; I am sure you will like to see the caves. And perhaps we shall go into the Manor House. Father said he wanted to look at the portraits in the hall."
Kitty sat up briskly at this.
"Oh! I hope we shall go through the house. It will make my flesh creep, I know, but anything for a change. It has been shut up ever since the murder, has it not?" And then, seeing Marjorie's grave, disturbed look, she quickly added, "You know all about it now, don't you, child? There is no reason why I should not talk about it."
"I would rather not talk of it, Kitty," Marjorie said hastily. "Please let us not."
Kitty tossed her head slightly.
"Oh, very well! But I should like to tell you what Lady Trelawny said. She knew Mr. Carew, and she does not believe to this day that he did it. I heard her tell mother so. And she thinks Robert Carew ought to have lived on at the Manor House and married your aunt. I think so too. Why should—"
"Oh, please do not let us talk about it," cried Marjorie, her nerves quivering at Kitty's light, critical tone. "And there are father and Mr. Bulteel coming up the stairs. We shall start now."
Mr. Bulteel was going to take them to Blackdown Point in his boat. They were to explore the caves as far as the tide allowed them, and then were to leave the boat and walk up Blackdown Valley to the Manor House. Mr. Drew had heard from his host that there was an old woman in charge of the place, and he wanted to find out from her, if possible, if her master was coming to Cornwall.
The fishing-boats had all left the harbour when they got down to it, but they were still in sight, and even Kitty was forced to own that they made a picture worth looking at, as they stood out to sea, the sunlight glowing on their brown sails.
"There, Kit, show us something equal to that in Lunnon town!" cried Mr. Bulteel, who had not grown tired of teasing his niece. "Isn't it better than all your Vauxhalls and your Hyde Parks? 'God made the country, and man made the town.' Who is it says that, eh? A sensible fellow whoever it was."
Kitty's face had a little pout upon it as she bent over the boat without speaking. She hated being teased, and had found that silence was her best weapon.
"Kitty has a greater poet than Cowper on her side," said Mr. Drew, seeing how offended she looked. "Does not Spenser talk of 'Merry
She was sitting with Kitty next morning in one of the broad window-seats, while Mr. Drew talked to Mr. Bulteel in his office, and Mrs. Bulteel was busy in the kitchen.
Kitty had been spending a delightful hour in showing Marjorie her dresses and jewellery, and describing to her the gaieties of the past winter. But now her spirits had flagged again. Marjorie was not the eager, admiring, envious listener she had bargained for; even the account of the fireworks at an evening fete in Vauxhall Gardens had failed to rouse her to enthusiasm. And she did not seem able to understand how Kitty could like living in a town as big as London, or why she felt bored in St. Mawan.
"These windows are so cheerful," said Marjorie, wonderingly. "Why, Kitty, how can you be dull here? There must be something to see all day long. Look! I think the fishing fleet must be going out. I hope we shall get down to the harbour before they are all gone. Do you think Mr. Bulteel will be ready soon?"
Kitty yawned, stretching out her pretty feet in their sandalled shoes and white open-work stockings.
"I don't think I shall go, Marjorie; a boat is so disagreeable, and I shall be certain to get my feet wet."
Marjorie's bright face clouded over.
"Oh, do come, Kitty; I am sure you will like to see the caves. And perhaps we shall go into the Manor House. Father said he wanted to look at the portraits in the hall."
Kitty sat up briskly at this.
"Oh! I hope we shall go through the house. It will make my flesh creep, I know, but anything for a change. It has been shut up ever since the murder, has it not?" And then, seeing Marjorie's grave, disturbed look, she quickly added, "You know all about it now, don't you, child? There is no reason why I should not talk about it."
"I would rather not talk of it, Kitty," Marjorie said hastily. "Please let us not."
Kitty tossed her head slightly.
"Oh, very well! But I should like to tell you what Lady Trelawny said. She knew Mr. Carew, and she does not believe to this day that he did it. I heard her tell mother so. And she thinks Robert Carew ought to have lived on at the Manor House and married your aunt. I think so too. Why should—"
"Oh, please do not let us talk about it," cried Marjorie, her nerves quivering at Kitty's light, critical tone. "And there are father and Mr. Bulteel coming up the stairs. We shall start now."
Mr. Bulteel was going to take them to Blackdown Point in his boat. They were to explore the caves as far as the tide allowed them, and then were to leave the boat and walk up Blackdown Valley to the Manor House. Mr. Drew had heard from his host that there was an old woman in charge of the place, and he wanted to find out from her, if possible, if her master was coming to Cornwall.
The fishing-boats had all left the harbour when they got down to it, but they were still in sight, and even Kitty was forced to own that they made a picture worth looking at, as they stood out to sea, the sunlight glowing on their brown sails.
"There, Kit, show us something equal to that in Lunnon town!" cried Mr. Bulteel, who had not grown tired of teasing his niece. "Isn't it better than all your Vauxhalls and your Hyde Parks? 'God made the country, and man made the town.' Who is it says that, eh? A sensible fellow whoever it was."
Kitty's face had a little pout upon it as she bent over the boat without speaking. She hated being teased, and had found that silence was her best weapon.
"Kitty has a greater poet than Cowper on her side," said Mr. Drew, seeing how offended she looked. "Does not Spenser talk of 'Merry
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