'Don't you think so? Heavens, Luscombe, but I must have had a strange experience to make me look as I did when you saw me first!' Then his mood changed. 'Isn't this wonderful country? I am sure I have seen it all before.' And he looked out of the carriage window towards the undulating landscape which spread itself out before us. 'It is a glorious country,' he went on, like one thinking aloud. 'France is like a parched desert after this. Think of the peacefulness of it, too! See that little village nestling on the hillside! see the old grey church tower almost hidden by the trees! That is what a country village ought to be. Yes, I'll go to Bolivick, after all. If I am uncomfortable, I can easily make an excuse for leaving. But I want to see her; yes, I do really. You've made me interested in her. I feel, too, as if something were going to happen. I am excited!' 'Well, you won't be long now,' I replied, for just then the train drew up at South Petherwin station. An old servant in livery approached me as we alighted. 'Captain Luscombe, sir?' he queried in a way which suggested the old family retainer. 'Yes,' I replied. A few minutes later we were seated in an open carriage, while a pair of spanking horses drew us along some typical Devonshire lanes. 'This is better than any motor-car, after all!' cried Edgecumbe, as he looked across the richly wooded valleys towards the wild moorland beyond. 'After all, horses belong to a countryside like this; motor-cars don't. If ever I----' but he did not complete his sentence. He was looking towards an old stone mansion nestling among the trees. 'That's it, that's surely it,' he cried. 'Is that Bolivick?' I asked the coachman. 'Yes, sir.' 'You might have been here before, Edgecumbe,' I said. 'No, no, I don't think I have--and yet--I don't know. It is familiar to me in a way, and yet it isn't. But it _is_ glorious. See, the sun's rim is almost touching the hill tops,--what colour! what infinite beauty! Must not God be beautiful!' The carriage dashed through a pair of great grey granite pillars, and a minute later we were in park lands, where the trees still threw their shade over the cattle which were lying beneath them. 'An English home,' I heard him say, 'just a typical English home. Oh, the thought of it is lovely!' The carriage drew up at the door of the old mansion, and getting out, I saw Lorna Bolivick standing there. 'I am glad you've come,' and she gave a happy laugh. 'I should never have forgiven you if you hadn't,' and she shook my hand just as naturally as if she had known me all her life. Then she turned towards Edgecumbe. 'And this is your friend,' she said; 'you don't know how pleased I am to see you.' But Edgecumbe did not speak. His eyes were riveted on her face, and they burned like coals of fire. I saw, too, by the tremor of his lips, how deeply moved he was. CHAPTER XVI LORNA BOLIVICK'S HOME