Orange took her place opposite Mirelle, and Captain Trecarrel sat by the sleeper's side.
'You really wish this?' he asked of Orange.
'Yes; give the word to the post-boy,' she answered, looking him hard in the face.
'Drive straight on,' shouted the Captain; 'we are ready.'
Orange sank back in her seat and said no more. Trecarrel looked about him, and admired the richness of the scenery, as the road descended to the beautiful valley of the Tavy, rich in woods, with glimpses of granite moor ridges rising picturesquely above it, and below the little town of Tavistock, with its grey church and abbey nestling by the foaming moorland river. The scene was charming, and the Captain wished he had time to sketch it.
Presently Mirelle woke—woke with a start and shiver.
'Orange!' she said, 'you frighten me. Why do you look at me in that strange manner?'
'I did not know that I was looking at you at all,' answered Orange, and she turned away her face.
'I am cold,' said Mirelle; 'we have our backs to the sun.'
'You have been asleep, and have become chilled,' said the Captain, sympathetically. 'Let me wrap my warm cloak about your shoulders; you must not catch cold. We are now half-way to Launceston.'