Seven for a Secret by Victoria Holt

makes you glad you didn’t, live in those days.”
    After that visit to Stonehenge 1 began to look about me for evidence of
    those who had lived here thousands of years before. Miss Lloyd encouraged me and one day she took us to Barrow Wood. This was quite close to The Rowans and 1 was delighted to have it so near.
    “It is called Barrow Wood,” Miss Lloyd explained, ‘because of the barrows. Do you know what a barrow is girls? No? It is a grave. These in Barrow Wood were probably made in the Bronze Age. Doesn’t that excite you? “
    “Yes,” I said, but a glazed look had come into Tamarisk’s eyes and Rachel was frowning in an attempt to concentrate.
    “You see,” went on Miss Lloyd, ‘the earth and the stones have been piled up to make a mound. Beneath those mounds would be burial chambers. By the arrangement of the graves I imagine these must have been important people. And then, of course, the trees were allowed to grow round them. Yes, it must have been a special place . a shrine.
    The people buried here were probably High Priests, leading Druids and the like. “
    I was thrilled because I could see Barrow Wood from my bedroom window.
    “Barrow is the name which was given these tombs. Tumulus is another word for barrow. So this is Barrow Wood.”
    1 went there often after that. It was so near. I would sit, contemplating the graves and marvelling that the people lying beneath had been there since before the birth of Jesus Christ. In summer the trees shut in the burial ground. In the winter one realized how close it was to the road.
    One day when I was there I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs on the road. I went to the edge of the copse and looked out. Crispin St. Aubyn was riding by.
    There was another occasion when I encountered Mr. Dorian there. He came walking towards me and I felt numb with horror at the sight of him.
    When he saw me, a strange look came into his face and he hurried towards me. I had an immediate urge to get away from him as soon as
    poss ibie. In this strange place he seemed more menacing than he had in the Bell House.
    “Good day,” he said, smiling.
    “Good day, Mr. Dorian.”
    “Admiring the barrow?”
    He was getting very close.
    “Yes.”
    “Pagan relics.”
    “Yes, I have to run. My aunt is waiting for me.”
    And I ran, my heart beating wildly with incomprehen-H sible fear. J I reached the road and looked back. He was standing atj the edge of the wood looking after me, watching me. f I ran back to The Rowans, triumphant because I hadf escaped.
    I was thinking a great deal about Flora Lane. Perhaps one of the reasons was that I believed the doll she cherished was Crispin St. Aubyn, though it was hard to imagine he was ever a baby.
    He was often in my thoughts. He was arrogant and rudej and I did not like him, but I found myself making excuses for him. His parents had not loved him. Well, they hadn’U loved Tamarisk either. I supposed there was a strong resemblance between brother and sister. They both thought:! everyone should do as they wanted, i Mr. Dorian also forced his way into my thoughts. There had been occasions when I had dreamed of him. Vague dreams they had been, with no real meaning to them, bu I would wake up thankful to have left the dream, for wit! them came an indefinable feeling of fear.
    Then I was by nature curious and interested in the lifi of Harper’s Green. I often found my footsteps taking m< in the direction of the Lanes’ cottage. I had the impressiol that Flora liked to see me. Her
    face always lit up witi pleasure when 1 called good-afternoon. I made a point of passing the cottage whenever I could not after lessons, of course, because I had to go home to the luncheon Lily would have prepared, but when I walked in the afternoon I often did.
    I would approach the cottage from the back and look over the wall. If Flora were sitting there in her usual place I would say good-afternoon; she would always answer me, and only on one occasion had she