Legend of the Seventh Virgin by Victoria Holt Page A

Kim’s lying to Mellyora about the boy who had fallen off the tree.
    Mellyora and I were like sisters; we were going to share secrets, adventures, our whole lives. She might prefer Justin St. Larnston. But Kim would be my knight.

    Miss Kellow had one of her bouts of neuralgia, and Mellyora, who was always sympathetic towards the sick, insisted on her lying down. She herself drew the curtains and gave Mrs. Yeo orders that she was not to be disturbed until four o’clock when tea was to be taken to her.
    Having looked after Miss Kellow, Mellyora sent for me and said that she fancied a ride. My eyes sparkled because naturally she could not go unaccompanied and I was sure she would prefer my company to Belter’s.
    Mellyora mounted her pony and I was on Cherry who was used for the pony cart. I hoped I should be seen by some of the St. Larnston people as I rode through the village, particularly Hetty Pengaster whom I had noticed more since I was aware of Johnny St. Larnston’s interest in her.
    However, we were only seen by a few children who stood aside as we passed; the boys pulled their forelocks and the girls curtsied — a fact which pleased me.
    In a short time we were on the moor and the beauty of the scenery took my breath away. It was awe-inspiring. There was no sign of any dwelling, nothing but moor and sky and the tors which here and there rose up from the moorlands. The scene could, I knew, be somber in shadow; on this day it was sparkling, and as the sun caught the little rivulets, which here and there tumbled over the boulders, it turned them to silver; and we could see the moisture on the grass shining like diamonds.
    Mellyora lightly touched her pony’s flanks and broke into a canter; I followed and we left the road and went over the grass until Mellyora drew up before a strange formation of stone and as I came up behind her, for her pony was fleeter than mine, I saw that there were three slabs of stone standing upright in the ground supporting a slab which was resting on top of them.
    “Eerie!” commented Mellyora. “Look round. There’s not a sign of anyone. We’re here, Kerensa, you and I, alone with that . Do you know what it is? It’s a burial ground. Years and years ago … three or four thousands of years before Christ was born, the people who lived here made that grave. You couldn’t move those stones if you tried for the rest of your life. Doesn’t it make you feel … strange, Kerensa … to stand here, beside that and think of those people?”
    I looked at her; with the wind tugging at her fair hair which fell in curls beneath her riding hat she was very pretty. She was earnest, too. “What does it make you feel, Kerensa?”
    “That there isn’t much time.”
    “Much time for what?”
    “To live … to do what you want … to get what you want.”
    “You say strange things, Kerensa. I’m glad you do. I can’t bear to know what people are going to say next. I do with Miss Kellow and even Papa. With you I’m never sure.”
    “And with Justin St. Larnston?”
    She turned away. “He hardly ever notices me to speak to,” she said sadly. “You say there isn’t much time, but look how long it takes to grow up.”
    “You think so because you’re fifteen and each year that passes seems long when you have only lived fifteen years and you’ve only got fifteen to compare it with. When you’re forty or fifty — one year seems less because you compare it with the forty or fifty you’ve lived.”
    “Who told you?”
    “My Granny. She’s a wise woman.”
    “I’ve heard of her. Bess and Kit talk of her. They say she has ‘powers,’ that she can help people …” She was thoughtful. Then she said: “This is called a quoit. Papa told me that they were built by the Celts, the Cornish, who have been here much longer than the English.”
    We tethered our ponies for a while and sat leaning against the stones while they nibbled the grass and she talked to me of the conversations she had