"I thought you were so eager to see this mosaic pavement they've discovered?"

"I'm more eager to be alone with you."

My frank admission of my devotion amused him and at the same time I fancied made him rather uneasy. Again he stressed that he lacked my powers of expression.

"You must not think, Judith," he said, "that because I do not constantly profess my love for you that it isn't there. I find it difficult to speak easily of what I feel most deeply."

That satisfied me.

I shall never forget the inn in the little moorland village. The sign creaking just outside our window—a gabled one, for the inn was three hundred years old; the sound of the waterfall less than half a mile away sending its sparkling water over the craggy boulders and the big feather bed in which we lay together.

There was a fire burning in the grate and as I watched the flickering shadows on the wallpaper—great red roses— and Tybalt's arms were about me, I was completely happy.

Breakfast was served to us in the old inn parlor with the brass and pewter on the shelves and hams hanging from the rafters. Hot coffee, bread fresh from the oven, ham and eggs from the nearby farm, scones and homemade strawberry jam with a basin of Devonshire cream the color of buttercups. And Tybalt sitting opposite me, watching me with that look almost of wonder in his eyes. If ever I was beautiful in my life I was beautiful on that morning.

After breakfast we went out onto the moors and walked for miles over the short spring turf. The innkeeper's wife had packed a little hamper for us and we picknicked by a tiny trickling stream. We saw the wild moorland ponies, too scared to come near us; and the only human beings we encountered on that day were a man driving a cartload of apples and pears who raised his whip to us and called a greeting, and another on horseback who did the same. A happy idyllic day and then back to the delicious duckling and green peas and afterwards the cozy bedroom and the flickering fire.

The next day we caught the train to Dorset.

Of course I was fascinated by the Roman site, but I wanted only one thing in my life at that time and that was to love and be loved by Tybalt. The hotel at which we stayed was full of people who were with the working party, which made it rather different from our Dartmoor haven. I was proud of the respect with which Tybalt was greeted and, although it was brought home to me that I was an amateur among professionals and I was constantly bewildered by technicalities, I was as eager as ever to learn —a fact which delighted my husband.

The day after we reached the hotel, Terence Gelding, Tybalt's best man, arrived. He was tall and rather lean with the same serious and dedicated expression I had noticed among so many of Tybalt's associates. Rather aloof, he seemed a little nervous of me, and I imagined he was not altogether pleased about Tybalt's marriage. When I mentioned this to Tybalt he laughed.

"You have such odd fancies, Judith," he said; and I remembered how often Alison and Dorcas had said the same of me. "Terence Gelding is a first-class worker, trustworthy too, reliable. Just the kind of man I like to work with me."

He and Terence Gelding would talk animatedly for long periods, and try as I might to follow their conversation it was not always easy.

When there was a possibility that an amphitheatre may have existed close to the site the excitement was great and a party went out to examine certain finds which might have proved an indication that this was correct. I was not invited to go.

Tybalt was apologetic.

"You see, Judith," he explained, "this is a professional affair. If I took you, others would expect to take people."

I understood and I determined that in a very short time I should have learned so much that I would be considered worthy to join in on such occasions.

Tybalt kissed me tenderly before leaving. "I'll be back in a few hours. What will you do while  I'm  away?"

"Read a book I've seen here dealing with Roman remains. Very soon I'm going to be as knowledgeable as you are."

That made him laugh.

I spent the day alone. I would have to be prepared for this sort of occasion, I reminded myself. But, interested as I was in this absorbing subject, I was a bride on her honeymoon, and an early Roman floor, even if it was a geometric mosaic, could not really compare with the springs and boulders of Dartmoor.

After that he was often at the site with the workers. Sometimes I went with him. I talked to the more humble members of the party; I studied maps; I even did a little digging as I had in Carter's Meadow. I watched first-aid methods in the restoration of a plaque on which was engraved the head of a Caesar. I was fascinated—but I longed to be alone with Tybalt.

We were two weeks on the Roman site. I believe Tybalt was reluctant to leave. On our last evening he spent several hours closeted with the director of the expedition. I was in bed when he came in. It was just after midnight.

He sat on the bed, his eyes shining.

"It's almost certain that there's an amphitheatre," he said. "What a discovery! I think this is going to be one of the most exciting sites in England. Professor Brownlea can't stop talking of his luck. Do you know they've found a plaque with a head engraved. If they can discover whose, it will be a great find."

"I know," I said, "I've seen it being pieced together."

"Unfortunately there is quite a bit missing. But, of course, the floor mosaics are most exciting. I would place the date of the black and white at round about 74 a.d."

"I'm sure you'd be right, Tybalt."

"Oh, but one can't be sure . . . not unless there is absolute proof. Why are you smiling?"

"Was I?" I held out my arms to him. "Perhaps because I was thinking that there are exciting things in life other than Roman remains."

He came to me at once and for a few moments we embraced. I was laughing softly. "I know what you're thinking. Yes, there are more exciting things. But I imagine the tombs of the Pharaohs win by a head."

"Oh, Judith," he said, "this is wonderful to be together. I want to have you there with me when we leave."

"Of course. It was for that reason you married me."

"That and others," he said.

"Well, we have discussed that . . . now let us consider the others."

I amused him. My frank enjoyment of our love was something which I am sure would have completely shocked Dorcas and Alison. But then so many people would have considered me bold and brazen.

I wondered if Tybalt did. I asked him. "You see," I explained, "it has always been almost impossible for me to pretend."

He said: "I don't deserve you, Judith."

I laughed, completely happy. "You can always try to be worthy," I suggested.

And I was happy. So was he. As happy as he was on his mosaic pavement or with his broken plaque or ruins of his amphitheatre? Was he? I wondered.

It was foolish of me to have these niggling doubts. I wished that I could forget the Cassandra-like faces of Dorcas and Alison, the hints and innuendos, the fanatical eyes of old Pegger in the porch. I wished that Sir Ralph had not left me a fortune; then I could indeed have been sure that I had been married for myself.

But these matters could be forgotten . . . temporarily. And I promised myself that in time I would banish them altogether.

Then we returned to Giza House.

It was the first week of November when we arrived in the late afternoon, and a dark and gloomy one. The October gales had stripped the trees of most of their leaves; but as the carriage brought us from the station the countryside seemed unusually silent for the wind had then dropped. It was typical Cornish November weather—warm and damp. As we pulled up at the wrought-iron gates of Giza and descended from the carriage, Tabitha came out to greet us.

"Not a very pleasant day," she said. "You must be chilled. Come in quickly and we'll have tea at once."

She was looking at us searchingly, as though she suspected the honeymoon had not been a success. Why did I get the impression that everyone seemed to have come to the conclusion that Tybalt and I were unsuited?

Imagination! I told myself. I looked up at the house. Haunted! I thought; and remembered teasing Theodosia and frightening her by making her run up the path. I thought of Nanny Tester probably peering out from a top window.

"Giza House always intrigued me," I said as I stepped into the hall.

"It's your home now," Tabitha reminded me.

"When we get back from Egypt, Judith may want to make some changes in the house," said Tybalt slipping his arm through mine. He smiled at me. "For the time being we must concentrate on our plans."

Tabitha showed us our room. It was on the first floor next to that room in which I had seen the sarcophagus. Tabitha had had it redecorated while we were away.

"You're very good," said Tybalt.

In the shadows I saw Mustapha and Absalam. I noticed their dark eyes fixed intently on me. They would be remembering me of course as the rowdy child and afterwards the "companion" from Keverall Court who came to borrow books. Now I was the new mistress. Or did Tabitha retain that title?

How I wished people had not sown these misgivings in my mind with their sly allusions.

Tabitha conducted me first to our room and left me there to freshen up while she returned to the drawing room with Tybalt. One of the maids brought hot water and when I had washed I went to the window and looked out. The garden had always been chock-a-block with shrubs and the trees made it dark. I could see the spiders' webs on the bushes, glistening where the light caught the globules of moisture as so often I had seen them before at this time of year. The curtains were deep blue edged with gold braid in a Greek key pattern. The bed was large, a fourposter canopied and curtained. The carpet was thick. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall. I looked at these. Some of them I had borrowed and read. They all referred to one subject. It occurred to me that this had been Sir Edward's bedroom before he had left for that fatal journey, and it seemed then that the past was enveloping me. I wished that a different room had been chosen for us. Then I remembered that I was the mistress of the house and if I did not like a room I could say so.