The pool of St Branok

"There's some as don't know what's good for 'em," she grumbled. "I do reckon them Fair Maids be a real and proper way to start a meal. Gives you appetite, they do say, and they'm right. No bones about it."

"Well, not for Mr. Pencarron."

I wanted to ask her more about the pool but I was afraid to; and as soon as I could I rode out there.

The ground was very wet and soggy. I saw two people standing close to the water and recognized one as John Gurney, the other was his son. They farmed on the Cador estate.

I rode up to them.

"I have heard that a wall has been exposed," I said.

" 'Tis all this flooding, Miss Angelet. No good to the crops ..."

"They are saying there really is a monastery here."

"It seems they'm right. This here's a wall."

"Is it really?"

"Could well be, Miss Angelet. Not much of it to see ... just enough to show it might have been. Look, 'tis over there."

I shivered. I wondered if there was any sign of blood on the stone. It was there that he had fallen and struck his head. Foolish thought! The rain would have washed it away even before the last deluge.

I walked Glory over and looked at it. I couldn't help but see him in my mind's eye. I glanced across to the pool. It was swollen and the water was dribbling beyond that spot where we had stood by the willows and let him slip down to his watery grave.

I turned back to the men.

"I suppose all sorts of things could be brought up on the water?"

They looked puzzled. "Things that may have fallen in," I said.

"Oh no, Miss Angelet. Reckon anything that went in would go right down to the bottom."

"They say it's bottomless."

"Must have a bottom somewhere, Miss Angelet."

"But they did say ..."

"Well, them bells 'as got to rest somewhere, 'asn't 'em?"

They laughed.

"I reckon there'll be some as 'ull be hearing 'em after this," said John Gurney.

"You can bet your life on that," said his son.

I rode back. It was foolish to worry but anything connected with the pool made me uneasy, and I supposed it would as long as I lived.

I was amazed when a letter came from Jonnie to my mother. When I went down to breakfast she was reading it.

"Good morning, Angelet," she said. "This is from Jonnie. He wants to come down."

"That will be nice," I said.

"He wants to bring a friend." She glanced at the letter. "Gervaise Mandeville. They've been studying together. So I suppose he's an archaeologist as well. Shall I read to you what he says?"

"Please do," I replied.

" 'We're so excited about this find at the pool. It sounds quite fascinating. We should love to come down. I am referring to a friend. He's very enthusiastic and if I could bring him with me, it would be wonderful. Ever since Miss Gilmore wrote about the exposed wall, I was eager to come and see it. Could you put up with us both? We could of course stay at the inn if it wasn't convenient... .' "

My mother looked at me. "What nonsense! As if we would let them stay at the inn. Of course they will come here."

"He's quickly learned about the discovery of the pool," I said.

"He and Grace have been writing to each other. Naturally she would tell him such a piece of news."

I felt a certain resentment. It was foolish. Why should they not write to each other?

"I suppose she thought he'd be particularly interested in that sort of thing," said my mother. "And she was right. He's hoping to unearth a monastery." She added lightly: "He'll be wanting to get down to the bottom of the pool to see if there are any bells there."

I could not share her lightness though I tried to pretend to.

And this friendship with Grace? He had not written to me. Of course she had shown a marked interest in his archaeology. It must be due to that.

A few weeks later they arrived.

Jonnie embraced me warmly. He was full of enthusiasm. "And this is Gervaise ... Gervaise Mandeville," he said.

Gervaise was very good-looking, tall with blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed to be laughing all the time—even when one would expect him to be serious. It was as though he found everything a joke and such was his personality that when one was with him, one felt the same. I liked him from the moment I saw him. He was not so intense as Jonnie, although he was excited at the prospect of discovering a monastery—but even that seemed like a joke to him—as everything else was.

Having visitors from London was always refreshing. We were rather cut off from affairs in the country and the first night at supper we seemed to be catching up with what was happening in the outside world.

The war was by no means over. The Russians had not, contrary to the expectations of the people in the streets, given up as soon as they knew the British were on the way.

"It looks," said Jonnie, "as though it might go on for a long time."

He was very sad about it.

"Some people think we should never have gone into it."

"Peterkin and Frances and Matthew do, I know," I said.

"Peterkin and Frances certainly. Matthew has swung right round. He has made some stirring speeches in the House."

I smiled thinking of Uncle Peter jerking his puppet.