"I b'ain't going back," said Tom Craddock. "Look out, Nat Emmet, I've got Squire here."
I heard a voice shout: "What in God's name is going on here?" A face looked out of a window and I caught a glimpse of dark hair and angry dark eyes.
"'Tis Nat Emmet, Sir Jason. He be bringing the new Young lady to the school and he's blocking the road."
"Get back at once, Emmet," cried the imperious voice and the face disappeared.
"Yes, sir. Yes, Sir Jason. That's just what I be doing... "
"Be sharp about it."
Emmet got down and we started to move back, and finally reached the wide road.
The carriage came out at a sharp pace and the driver gave Nat Emmet a victorious grin as it went past. I tried to catch a glimpse of the man inside the carriage but he was out of sight.
The funeral bell started to toll once more.
"He's just come from burying his wife," said Emmet.
"So that's Sir Jason himself. He seemed a bit choleric."
"What's that, Miss?"
"He seems a bit quick-tempered."
"Oh, Squire don't like anything to get in his way ... like his poor lady. There's some as say she was in his way. But I'm talking out of turn. But there's things folks don't keep quiet. And why should they?"
We went quickly through the lane.
"Don't want to meet no others," said Emmet. "Not that I'd go back a second time ... except for Squire and we're not likely to meet him again, are we?"
We trotted along while he made observations which did not interest me greatly because my thoughts were with the Squire and the lady who had been in his way and for whom the dismal bell was tolling.
"If you look when we turn this bend, Miss, you'll be getting your first view of the Abbey," Emmet told me.
Then I was alert ... waiting.
It lay ahead of me, grand, imposing, tragic, a shell encasing past glory. I could see the sun glinting through the great arches which were open to the sky.
"That be it," said Emmet, pointing with his whip. "It be quite a sight, b'ain't it? In spite of being nothing but an old ruin ... 'cept the part that ain't. Well, folks seem to think a lot of our Abbey. Wouldn't let it be touched. It was a good thing they did their bit of building in days gone by."
I was speechless with a kind of wonder. It was indeed a magnificent sight. Away to the hills the trees were in bud; the sun glinted on a brook which was wending its way across a meadow.
"Look over to the right of the tower, Miss, and you'll see the fish ponds. That's where the monks used to catch their supper."
"It's wonderful. I had not imagined anything quite so ... impressive."
"There's folks as won't go near the place after dark. Miss Hetherington her don't like us to say it, but it be true. She thinks it will frighten the young ladies so they'll ask to be took away. But I tell you there's some as say they can hear bells at certain mines of night... and monks chanting."
"One could quite believe that."
"You're seeing it in sunlight, Miss. You want to see it by the light of the moon ... or better still when there's just a few stars to light the way."
"I daresay I shall," I said.
We were getting nearer.
"It be comfortable enough in the school, Miss. You'd hardly know where you was to. Miss Hetherington, her's done wonders. Just like a school it is inside ... and when you hear all them young ladies laughing together, well, you forget all about them long dead monks."
The trap had drawn up in a courtyard. Emmet jumped down and helped me down.
"I'll see to your bags, Miss," he said.
I was facing a door in a greystone wall. Emmet pulled the bell and the door was immediately opened by a girl in uniform.
"Come in, Miss Grant. It be Miss Grant, b'ain't it? Miss Hetherington said as you was to be took right up to her the moment you arrive. She's just having tea."
I was in a large hall with a vaulted ceiling. It looked like a monastery; there was a coldness in the air which I noticed after the warmth of the sun outside.
"Did you have a good journey, Miss?" asked the girl. "It seems the train was on time."
"Very good, thank you."
"The other mistresses haven't come yet. They'll be here tomorrow, but it's when all the young ladies are here ... that's when we know it." She turned to me and raising her eyes to the ceiling jerked her chin upwards.
"This way, Miss. Look out. These staircases can be dangerous. If you slip on the narrow bit... particularly coming down, you can come a cropper. Hang on to this rope. Supposed to be a banister.
This is how the monks had it, so we have to have it that way too."
"It's an anciens building."
"Built up from parts of the ruins, Miss. We're always hearing about it ... how we ought to appreciate it and all that 'cause the monks had it that way. Myself, I'd rather a nice wood banister."
We had come to a long corridor. It had a vaulted ceiling like that in the hall, and there were rooms leading from it.
"This way, Miss." The girl tapped on a door and a voice which I recognized immediately as that of Daisy Hetherington called: "Come in."
"Ah, there you are."
She had risen. She was taller than I remembered; and here within these walls she looked more than ever as though she had been carved out of stone.
"It is so nice to see you. You must be tired from your journey. Grace, bring another cup and some more hot water. First you will have some tea-it is quite freshly made-and then you shall see your quarters. I trust you have had a good journey. You are very much on time."
"The train was exactly on time."
"Take off your coat. That's right. And sit down. I am pleased to see you, Cordelia. I shall, however, call you Miss Grant, except when we are on our own. I don't want there to be any differences."
"No, of course not."
"I daresay you were impressed by the Abbey."
"Very. Although I have seen little so far, just the first impression. And that is truly staggering."
"I know the effect it has. We, who live in the midst of these ancient stones, I'm afraid are apt to forget all they stand for."
"It is certainly a wonderful setting."
"I think so. It makes us different. I think living in such a place gives the girls an understanding of the past. We have always done very well with history. Ah, here is the hot water. Let me pour out for you. Do you take cream or sugar?"
"Neither, thank you."
"You are not like your aunt. She always shocks me by the amount of sugar she takes in her tea." "She loves all sweet things."
"To her cost."
"She is happy as she is and manages to make all those about her the same."
"Ah, Patience. Well, here you are. I shall myself show you round after tea ... before it gets dark. I enjoy showing people round for the first time. I gloat over it. It really is unique, I am sure. It is wonderful what those Elizabethan builders managed to raise up out of the ruins. We should call ourself the Phoenix, I always say."
"What part of the monastery is this?"
"It's the Chapter House and Monks' Dorter and the Lay Brothers' Dorter and their library, kitchens and infirmary. This part was left almost untouched when the despoilers came in. It was the towers and the chapels which were so badly desecrated."
"So this is almost as it was when it was built, I suppose."
"Yes, in the mid 1100s. The monks built it with their own hands. Think of the activity which must have gone on. They had to bring the stone here you know ... and then build. Of course, it was a labour of love. You can feel that ... particularly in the nave and the aisles ... even though they are open to the sky."
"I am so looking forward to seeing it all."
"I knew you would be. I sensed that you would have a feeling for it. Some people have, some haven't."
She passed me a plate of thin bread and butter.