"They've no one belonging to them, if that's what you mean; but a lady keeps house for them, and a real nice lady she is too. What is the matter, sonny? A bit squeezed-eh?"
Noel in his excitement at hearing his mother thus mentioned was making frantic attempts to get his arms free that he might signal to Duke. He blushed and became very still; but only for a few moments. The horses were turning a corner. Two or three cottages came into sight, together with a quaint old inn, distinguished by a sign bearing a bold and extraordinary painting of a lion.
But Noel did not observe this curious representation of the king of beasts. His eyes fell on a lady who stood a few paces from the inn, gazing eagerly up the road.
"Oh, there's mother—mother!" he cried, forgetting his shyness in the rapture of the moment. "Duke, do you see? There's mother!"
"You don't mean to say she's your mother!" said the driver. "Well, to be sure!"
[CHAPTER III.]
THE WRECKERS' LAMP.
Tun boys found Egloshayle House the most remarkable dwelling they had ever seen. It would be difficult to imagine an abode more unlike the ordinary town house to which they were accustomed. It stood at the head of a rocky gorge, or chine, as it would be called in the south of England, through which a swift, narrow stream made its way to the sea.
The house consisted of two parts, one modern, one very old. The modern rooms had large windows and faced a bright flower-garden, with a gravelled drive leading to the stately entrance. The old part lay behind and extended almost to the edge of the gorge, which it seemed to overhang. Here the rooms were low, the roof had deep eaves which sheltered a whole colony of swallows, and ivy grew thickly about the small-paned windows.
A curious little tower rose at one side. The boys' mother told them that in the old days a lamp had always burned at night in the window of this tower, giving a light which could be seen far out at sea. The boys asked why this was no longer done, and she said she was afraid the lamp had been no good.