The legend of the seventh virgin

6

One can forget the unpleasant episodes of life for days, weeks, months at a stretch and then some incident occurs to revive them in all their disturbing clarity. I was the kind of person who could make excuses for my sins, who could force myself to see the excuses as the truth. I was becoming more and more that kind of person. But truth is like a specter which will haunt you all your life and appear suddenly when you are off your guard to disturb you, to remind you that no matter how many pleasantly colored mappings you can put over the truth, they can be discarded in a moment by one rude gesture.

There was I sitting at my bureau planning the dinner party of that evening. The Fedders were coming. They had business to discuss with Johnny. Johnny was not pleased, but he had to invite them. I knew very well that Johnny and business did not suit each other.

There was no denying the fact that estate matters were not managed so skillfully as they had been when Justin was at the Abbas. I knew that if Johnny received letters which he found disagreeable he thrust them into a drawer and tried to forget about them. There were complaints from several sources. The farmers said that in Sir Justin's day this and that, which was neglected now, had been carried out Repairs of cottages which should have been done were left undone; and the fact that Johnny was prepared to promise anything that was asked did not help matters, since he had no intention of keeping his promises. In the beginning he had been very popular, now they knew they couldn't trust him.

It was two years since Justin had gone away. He was in Italy now and wrote rarely. I was always expecting that one day there would be a letter for Mellyora asking her to join him there.

When you have wronged someone deeply your feelings towards them must change. There were times when I almost hated Mellyora; I was really hating myself, but as it is always difficult for a person of my nature to do that, the only outlet is to hate the one who has made you hate yourself. When these moods were on me I tried to be more gentle with her. She would be Carlyon's nurse and governess, until he was old enough to go to school, but I had insisted that she should be treated like a member of the family, taking meals with us, and even coming to dinner parties; people met her as Miss Martin, the daughter of the late parson, rather than the nursery governess at the Abbas. I had taught Carlyon to call her Aunt Mellyora. There were times when there was little I wouldn't have done for Mellyora.

She had changed; she looked older; she was quieter. It was strange, but as I grew more flamboyant she seemed to grow more colorless. She wore her lovely yellow hair in smooth braids about her head; mine was coiled high and elaborately so as not to lose one bit of its beauty. She wore quiet grays and blacks—which were becoming to her fair skin—but so quiet I wore black rarely; it did not suit me and when I did, I would always have with it a touch of flaming color—scarlet or my favorite jade green. I had evening dresses of scarlet chiffon and jade silk; sometimes I wore lavender and a combination of dark blue dominated by pink.

I was the lady of the Abbas now; there was no one to stand in my way and in the two years since Justin had gone away I had stabilized my position. The disaffection of Justin had helped me considerably. I almost believed that Haggety and Mrs. Rolt forgot for long periods at a time that I was not born and bred to the role which I played so perfectly.

Lady St. Larnston had died the previous year, quietly in her sleep, so there had been another funeral at the Abbas. But how different this one from that of Judith! Calmly and conventionally as she had lived her life, so the old lady passed out of it.

And since her going, my position had become even more secure.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I said, with the proper touch of authority, not arrogant, not condescending, merely giving an order naturally. Mrs. Rolt and Mrs. Salt entered.

"Oh Ma am, it's about the dinner tonight," said Mrs. Salt.

"I have been thinking of it" I looked up at them, conscious of myself— white hands on the table, the pen held lightly; my wedding ring and the square-cut emerald above—the one which was a St. Larnston ring and which Lady St. Larnston had given me after Justin had gone away. My feet in black leather slippers showing beneath the skirt of my mauve morning gown which was trimmed with satin ribbons; my hair in a chignon on the top of my head—simply and elegantly clad in the morning attire of a great lady.

"A clear soup to begin with, Mrs. Salt. Then I think sole with a sauce which I shall leave to you. Partridge ... or chicken , . . and the roast beef. We must keep it simple because I gather from Mrs. Fedder that Mr. Fedder's digestion is giving him a little trouble."

"It's not to be wondered at, Ma'am!' said Mrs. Rolt. "It's all this talk about the mine. Not that I suppose they'm got much to worry about—them Fedders. Reckon they've been feathering their nests all this time. But have you heard, Ma'am, if it be true the mine be closing down?"

"I have heard nothing," I said coolly and turned to Mrs. Salt. "A souffle, I think, and let us have apple pie with cream."

"Very good, Ma'am," said Mrs. Salt.

Mrs. Rolt put in: "And Haggety were wondering about the wines. Ma'am."

"He should see Mr. St. Larnston about the wines," I replied.

"Well, Ma'am ..." began Mrs. Rolt.

I inclined my head. This was one of those mornings when they were becoming too talkative. On most occasions I could subdue them completely.

I haughtily inclined my head and picked up my pen. They exchanged glances and murmuring: "Thank you, Ma'am!" went out; I heard their voices, low, whispering as the door closed.

I frowned. It was as though their prying fingers had opened a cupboard door which I preferred to keep shut. What was it Johnny had once said about skeletons in cupboards? Justin's and Mellyora s? Well, I was ready to admit I had my skeletons too.

I tried to dismiss the memory of those two mischievous old faces, as I picked up my pen and started going through the last month's account which Haggety had put on my desk a few days before in accordance with my orders.

Another knock.

"Come in."

This time it was Haggety himself.

A curse on memories! I thought of his foot touching mine under the table. That little light in his eyes which meant: We must understand each other. I pay lip service to Mrs. Rolt but you're the one I really fancy.

I hated him when I remembered; and I must force myself to regard him as the butler merely, quite efficient if one shut one's eyes to his shortcomings—too much freedom with the women servants, a little bribery to suppliers, a little adjustment of accounts so that they came out in his favor. The sort of failings one might have with any butler.

"Well, Haggety?" I went on writing just because I had remembered.

He coughed. "Er, Ma'am ... er ..."

Now I must look up. There was no disrespect in his face, only embarrassment. I waited patiently.

"It's about the wine. Ma'am."

"For tonight, yes. You must see Mr. St. Larnston about it."

"Er ... Ma'am. It's that we'll just about have enough for tonight Ma'am and then ..."

I looked at him in astonishment "Why haven't you seen that the cellar is we]! stocked?"

"Ma'am. The merchant, Ma'am ... he Vi^ants a settlement."

I felt a faint color in my cheeks. "This is extraordinary," I said.

"No, Ma'am. There's a large amount outstanding ... and ..."

"You had better let me see the account, Haggety."

A smile of relief touched his face. "Well, Ma'am, I've what you might say anticipated that. Tis here. If Ma'am, you'll settle it, there'll be no trouble, I do assure you."

I did not look at the statement he handed me.

I said; "Such treatment is most disrespectful. Perhaps we should change our wine merchant"

Haggety fumbled and brought out another bill. "Well, Ma'am in a manner of speaking we have two , . . and things is the same with the both."

It had always been a tradition at the Abbas that wine bills were the affair of the man of the house. Although I dealt with other expenditure, since the departure of Justin, the cellar had been a matter between Haggety and Johnny.

"I will see that this has Mr. St Larnston's immediate attention," I said, and I added: "I do not think he will be pleased with these merchants. It may be necessary to find others. But the cellars, of course, should not be allowed to be depleted. You should have brought this matter to light before this."

Haggety's face puckered as though he were about to cry.

"Ma'am, I have told Mr. Johnny ... Mr. St. Larnston ... nigh on a dozen times."

"Very well, Haggety, I understand. It has slipped his memory. I see that you are not to blame."

Haggety went out and immediately I looked down at the wine merchants' accounts. To my horror I saw that between the two we owed some five hundred pounds.

Five hundred pounds! No wonder they refused to supply us with more until we paid. How could Johnny have been so careless.

A sudden fear had come to me. What was Johnny doing with the money which was coming in from the estate? I had my allowance with which I settled household accounts and bought what I needed. Why did Johnny go so often to Plymouth—far more often than Sir Justin had gone? Why were there continual complaints about the estate?

It was time I had a talk with Johnny.

That was an uneasy day.

I carefully put away the wine bills but I couldn't forget them. Those figures kept dancing before my eyes and I thought of my life with Johnny.

What did we know of each other? He still admired me; I still attracted him, not with the same passionate fire as in the beginning, not with that abandonment which had made him risk his family's displeasure to make me his wife; but there was physical passion there. He still found me different from other women. He told me so again and again. What other women? I asked once, wondering what other women there were in Johnny's life. "All other women in the world," he answered. And I didn't care enough to pursue that point I always felt I must repay Johnny for my position, the fulfillment of a dream, all that he had given to me. And most of all he had given me Carlyon, my blessed son, who, thanks to Johnny was a St. Larnston and could one day be Sir Carlyon. For this I must be grateful. I remembered this always and tried to repay him be being the sort of wife he needed. I believed I was. I shared his bed; I ran his house; I was a credit to him when people could forget my origins which were like a shadow, visible on some days when the bright sun discovered it, but often out of sight and out of mind. I never asked questions about his life. I suspected that there might be other women. The St. Larnstons—with the exception of Justin—were like that; his father had been, and there was his Grandfather who had played his part in Granny's story.

Johnny could lead his own private life, but the management of the estate was something he could not keep to himself. If there were debts I must know.

I suddenly realized how lax I had been. The St. Larnston estate was important because one day it was going to be Carlyon's.

What had I heard about the days of uneasiness, years ago when the Abbas and all its lands had almost passed into other hands. Then tin had been discovered in the meadow near the Six Virgins and that tin had saved the family fortunes. I remembered how, at Joe's wedding, there had been talk of our mine. Perhaps I could speak to Johnny. I must discover whether the wine bills had been left unpaid through carelessness or for other more alarming reasons.

Those figures continued to dance before my eyes, jerking me out of my complacence. I had been too content with my life. For the last year it had run too smoothly. I even believed that Mellyora had become resigned and was not yearning so much for Justin; once or twice I had heard her laugh as she used to when we were both together at the parsonage.

I had seen everything turning out as I had planned it should. I was reconciled to Joe's lack of ambition; Granny had left her cottage and lived with the Pollents now. I knew that it was the most satisfactory arrangement and yet I was sad in a way because she must live with Joe instead of with me. Granny would never have fitted in at the Abbas with her potions and cures and her Cornish accent; but at the Pollents' she was very welcome. There was Joe working on his cures for animals and Granny continuing with her work. It fitted somehow. But it wasn't quite what I had wanted for her; and I often felt sad when I visited her there. When we talked together I knew that our relationship had not changed and I was as important to her—and she to me—as we had ever been.

Yes, indeed I had been too complacent; I must not remain any longer in ignorance of our financial position.

I put away my papers and shut the desk. I would go to the nursery to see Carlyon who could always soothe me. He was growing up fast and was advanced for his age. He was not a bit like Johnny, nor like me; I often marveled that we could have had such a child. He was already reading and Mellyora said that he had practically taught himself; his attempts at drawing seemed to me astonishing; and he had his own little pony because I had wanted him to ride at an early age. I never allowed him to ride without me—I wouldn't trust anyone else, not even Mellyora; and I myself would lead him round the meadow. He had a natural aptitude and was quickly at home in the saddle.

There was only one characteristic in him which I should have liked to change. He could be reduced to tears very quickly when he thought something was hurt. There had been one occasion more than a year earlier during the very hot weather when he had come in crying because there was a crack in the brown earth and he thought it was broken. "Poor, poor ground! Mend it. Mamma,'' he said, looking at me with tear-filled eyes as though he had thought me an omnipotent being. So it was with animals— a mouse in a trap, a dead hare he had seen hung in the kitchen, a cat who had been hurt in a fight. He suffered acutely because his heart was too tender and I often used to fear that when he grew older he would be too easily hurt.

On that morning I hurried along to the nursery, guessing that Mellyora would be getting him ready to take out and thinking that we would go together.

I could shelve all disturbing fears while I was with Carlyon. I threw open the nursery door. It was empty. When old Lady St. Larnston was alive I had had the nurseries redecorated and she and I had become very friendly while that operation was in progress. We had chosen the wallpaper together—a wonderful wallpaper, blue and white with the willow-pattern story repeated over and over again. Everything was blue and white; a white pattern on blue curtains, a blue carpet. The room was full of sunshine, but there was no sign of Carlyon or Mellyora.

"Where are you?" I called.

My eyes went to the window seat where propped up against the window was Nelly. I could never look at the thing without a shock. I had said to Carlyon: "This is a baby's toy. Do you want to keep it? Let's find some big boy's toys."

He had taken it firmly from me, his face puckered in grief; I believe he fancied that the thing could hear my words and be hurt.

"It's Nelly," he said, with dignity, and opening a cupboard door he put it inside as though he feared for its safety.

Now I picked it up. The torn cloth had been neatly mended by Mellyora. But it was visible like a scar. If she had known... .

This was an unpleasant morning because too much that should be forgotten was coming back to leer at me.

I put Nelly back on the window seat and opened the door into the adjoining room where Carlyon had his meals.

As I did so I came face to face with Mellyora.

"You've seen him?" she said and I noticed how anxious she was.

"What?"

"Carlyon? He's with you?"

"No "

"Then where ... ?"

We stared at each other in dismay and I was conscious of that feeling of sickness, numbness, and desperation which the thought of any harm overtaking Carlyon could give me.

"I thought he must be with you," she said.

"You mean ... he's not here?"

"I've been looking for him for the last ten minutes."

"How long have you missed him?"

"I left him here ... after breakfast. He was making a drawing of his pony... ."

"We must find him," I commanded. "He must be here somewhere."

I went roughly past her. I wanted to upbraid her, to accuse her of carelessness. That was because seeing the toy elephant on the window seat had reminded me vividly how I had wronged her. I called sharply: "Carlyon. Where are you?"

She joined me; and we had soon made sure that he was nowhere in the nursery.

Now the dreadful sick fear was a certainty. Carlyon was lost. In a short time I had the whole household searching for him. Every nook of the Abbas must be searched, every servant questioned. But I was not satisfied that they would search properly. I must search myself, so I went through the house ... through every room, calling for my son to come out if he were hiding, begging him not to frighten me any more.

I thought of all the things that could have harmed him. I pictured him trampled to death by galloping horses, kidnaped by gypsies, caught in a trap ... maimed as poor Joe had been. And there I was in the old part of the house where the nuns had lived, meditated, and prayed; and I seemed to feel despair close in on me and that I was shut in with grief. A horrible suspicion came to me then that some harm had befallen my child. It was as though the spirit of the nun was beside me, that she identified herself with me, that her grief was my grief; and I knew then that if my son were taken from me it would be as though I were walled in by grief which would be as enduring as stone walls.

I fought to throw off the spell of evil which seemed to wrap itself about me.

"No," I cried out aloud. "Carlyon, my son. Where are you? Come out of your hiding place and stop frightening me."

As I ran out of the house, I met Mellyora and glanced hopefully at her but she shook her head.

"He's not in the house," she said.

We began searching the grounds, calling his name.

Near the stables I saw Polore.

"The little master be lost?" he asked.

"Have you seen him?" I demanded.

"Just about an hour ago. Ma'am. He were talking to me about his pony. Took sick it were, in the night, and I were telling him."

"Was he upset?"

"Well, Ma'am. He were always fond of that pony. Talked to 'er he did. Said to never mind. 'Er'd soon be better. Then he did go back to the house. I watched 'un."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"No, Ma'am. I ain't seen him since."

Everyone must join in the search, I commanded. Everything must be left. My son must be found. We had established that he was not in the house; he could not be far away because Polore had seen him only an hour before in the stables.

I cannot explain all that I suffered during the search. Again and again hope was raised and dashed. I felt as though I lived through years of torment. I blamed Mellyora. Was she not supposed to look after him? If anything has happened to him, I thought, I shall have paid in full for anything I did to Mellyora.

She was white and harassed and I had not seen her so unhappy since Justin went. I reminded myself that she loved Carlyon; and it seemed to me that my grief would always be hers. We shared our troubles ... except on one occasion when her loss was my gain.

I saw Johnny riding into the stable and called to him. "What the devil ... ?" he began.

"Carlyon's lost."

"Lost! Where?"

"If we knew, he wouldn't be lost." My grief was so great I had to release some of it in anger. My lips were working and I couldn't control them. "I'm frightened," I said.

"He's playing somewhere."

"We've searched the house and grounds. ..." I looked wildly about me and I caught the glint of the sun on the Virgins.

Then a sudden fear struck me. I had shown him the stones the other day; he had been fascinated by them. "Don't go near the old mine, Carlyon. Promise." He had given his ready promise and he was not a child to break his word. But suppose my very words had aroused some curiosity; suppose he had become so fascinated that he could not resist the temptation to examine the mine; suppose he had forgotten his promise? After all he was little more than a baby.

I turned to Johnny and clutched at his arm. "Johnny," I said, "suppose he went to the mine... ."

I had never seen Johnny so frightened and I warmed to him. There had been times when I had reproached him for his lack of interest in our son. Oh God, I thought. He is as frightened as I am.

"No," said Johnny. "No."

"But if he did ... "

"There's a warning there... ."

"He couldn't read it. Or if he did, it might have made him want to explore."

We stared at each other wildly.

Then I said: "We'll have to find out. They'll have to go down."

"Go down the mine! Are you mad ... Kerensa?"

"But he might be there... ."

"It's madness."

"At this very moment he might be lying hurt... ."

"A fall down there would kill him."

"Johnny!"

"It's a mad idea. He's not there. He's playing somewhere. He's in the house... . He's ..."

"We've got to search the mine. There's no time to be lost. Now ... now."

"Kerensa!"

I threw him off and started to run towards the stables. I would summon Polore and some of the men. They must prepare without delay. This new terror obsessed me. Carlyon had fallen down the old mine shaft. I visualized his fear if he were conscious; the horror of his not being.

"Polore!" I called. "Polore.'"

Then I heard the sound of horse's hoofs and my sister-in-law Essie came riding into the stable yard.

I scarcely looked at her. I had no time for her on an occasion like this. But she was shouting at me. "Oh, Kerensa, Joe said to come and tell 'ee without delay because you'd be anxious like. Carlyon, he be with his uncle."

I nearly fainted with relief.

"He did come over fifteen minutes since. Some tale about his pony needing Joe. Joe said to ride over right away and tell 'ee where he be. He said you'd be nigh fit to drop with the worry of it"

Johnny was standing beside me.

"Oh, Johnny," I cried, because I saw that he was as happy as I was.

Then I threw myself into his arms and we clung together. I had never felt so close to my husband.

It was an hour later when Joe brought Carlyon back to the Abbas. Carlyon was standing up with Joe in the trap; Joe had allowed him to hold the reins with him so that Carlyon believed that he himself was driving the trap.

I had rarely seen him look so happy.

Joe was happy too. He loved children and longed for a son of his own; so far there was no sign that Essie was going to produce one.

"Mamma!" called Carlyon as soon as he saw me, "Uncle Joe's come to mend Carpony."

Carpony was his own name for the pony, derived from Carlyon's pony. He found his own special name for everything he loved.

I stood by the trap looking at him, great thankfulness in my heart to see him, alive, unmarried. I could scarcely keep the tears from my eyes.

Joe noticed my emotion. "I sent Essie over the minute he come," he said, gently, "knowing how you'd feel."

"Thank you, Joe," I answered briskly.

"A proper little man 'e be ... a-driving my trap now. What next?"

"Driving the trap now," repeated Carlyon happily. "Coming to mend Carpony now, Uncle Joe?"

"Yes, reckon we'd be better getting along to see how that little old pony be."

Carlyon said: "We'll soon mend him, eh. Uncle Joe?"

"That's one thing I reckon we can be pretty sure on."

There was a camaraderie between them which disturbed me. I had not meant the future Sir Carlyon to become too friendly with the vet. He must acknowledge him as his uncle, it was true, but there were not to be too many meetings. If Joe had been the doctor it would have been different.

I lifted Carlyon out of the trap. "Dearest," I said, "another time, don't go off without telling us first."

The happiness died out of his face. Joe must have told him how worried I should be. He put his arms about my neck and said softly: "Tell next time."

How adorable he was! It hurt me to see him so friendly with Joe and yet at the same time I was pleased. This was my own brother who had once been very dear to me—and still was, although I was disappointed in him.

I watched Joe go into the stables. His limp always softened me towards him, always reminded me of that night when Kim had carried him back to the cottage; somehow there was an ache in my heart—but not for the past. How could I, who was so successful now, want to be back there? But there was a feeling of longing to know what Kim was doing now.

Joe examined the pony. "Not much wrong with her, I reckon."

Joe scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Not much wrong with her, I reckon too," repeated Carlyon, scratching his head.

"Nothing that we can't put right, seems to me."

Carlyon smiled. His eyes all for his wonderful Uncle Joe.

The dinner party that night was scarcely a success. I had not had an opportunity of speaking to Johnny about the wine bills during the day and while we sat at dinner I remembered them.

The Fedders were not a very interesting couple. James Fedder was in his late fifties, his wife a few years younger. I had nothing in common with her.

Mellyora dined with us, although I had not invited an extra man to make us an even number, since the Fedders were with us, because James wanted to talk business with Johnny, and after the meal the men would be left to talk at the dinner table over their port.

I was glad when Mellyora, Mrs. Fedder, and I could retire to the drawing room, although I found it a very boring evening and was even more delighted when the time arrived for the Fedders to leave.

It had been an exhausting day: first the shock about the bills, then Carlyon's escape, and after that a dinner party which was not in the least stimulating.

In our bedroom I decided to open the subject of the bills with my husband.

He looked tired, I thought, but the matter could be shelved no longer: it was too important.

"Haggety has disturbed me, Johnny," I began. "Today he showed me two demands from wine merchants. He says they won't supply us with any more wine until the bills are paid."

Johnny shrugged his shoulders.

"It's ... it's insulting," I said.

He yawned, feigning an indifference which I suspected he did not feel. "My dear Kerensa, people like us don't feel we have to pay bills as soon as they're submitted."

"So people like you are in the habit of having tradespeople refuse to supply you?"

"You're exaggerating."

"I've had it straight from Haggety. This sort of thing didn't happen when Justin was here."

"All sorts of things happened when Justin was here which don't happen now. For instance, wives mysteriously fell down staircases to their deaths."

He was changing the issue; just as I liked to justify myself when feeling guilty, so did he.

"The bills should be paid, Johnny."

"What with?"

"Money."

He shrugged his shoulders. "You find it and I'll pay the bills."

"We can't entertain our guests if we can't give them wine to drink."

"Haggety must find someone who will supply us."

"And run up more bills?"

"You've got a cottage mentality, Kerensa."

"I'm glad of it if it means I pay my debts."

"Oh, don't talk to me of money."

"Johnny, tell me frankly, are we in difficulties ... financial difficulties?"

"There are always money troubles."

"Are there? Were there in Justin's day?"

"Everything was perfectly arranged in Justin's day. He was so clever in every way ...until his cleverness caught up with him."

"Johnny, I want to know everything."

"To know all is to forgive," he quoted lightly.

"Are we short of money?"

"We are."

"And what are you doing about it?"

"Hoping and praying for a miracle."

"Johnny, how bad are things?"

"I don't know. But we'll pull through. We always do."

"I must go into these matters with you ... soon."

"Soon?" he said.

A sudden thought struck me. "You haven't been asking James Fedder for money?"

He laughed. "The shoe is on the other foot, my sweet wife. Fedder is looking for a kind friend who'll come to his aid. He chose the wrong one tonight."

"He wanted to borrow money from you?"

Johnny nodded.

"And what did you say?"

"Oh I gave him a blank check and told him to help himself. There was so much in the bank, I wouldn't miss a few thousand."

"Johnny ... seriously."

"Seriously, Kerensa, I told him I was in a low state. The Fedder mine's running out, in any case. It's no use trying to bolster things up."

"The mine," I said. "Of course, the mine!"

He stared at me.

"I know we shan't like it but if it's the only way ... and if there's tin there as people say there is."

His lips were tight; his eyes blazing.

"What are you saying?" he demanded.

"But if it's the only way ..." I began.

He cut me short. "You ..." he said so low that I could scarcely hear. "You ... to suggest such a thing. What do you think?" He took me by the shoulders and shook me roughly. "Who are you ... to think you can rule the Abbas?"

For the moment his eyes were so cruel that I believed he hated me.

"Open the mine!" he went on. "When you know as well as I do... ."

He lifted his hand; he was so angry that I thought he was going to strike me.

Then he turned abruptly away.

He lay at one side of the bed; I at the other.

I knew that he did not sleep until the early hours of the morning. It had been a strange disturbing day and its events would not be dismissed from my mind. I saw Mrs. Rolt and Mrs. Salt standing before me; I saw Haggety with the wine bills; Carlyon riding with Joe, holding the reins of Joe's horse in plump beloved fingers; and I saw Johnny, his face white with anger.

A bad day, I thought. The stirring of ghosts; the opening of cupboards and disclosing old skeletons best forgotten.

From then on my days were disturbed. My attention became focused on Johnny because I had suddenly realized that he was no fit person to handle the estate and that his mismanagement could have its effect on Carlyon's future.

I knew little of business matters but I did know how easily inefficient people could get into trouble. I went to see Granny, taking Carlyon with me. My son was delighted when he heard where we were going. I myself drove the little trap I used for such short journeys and Carlyon stood before me, holding the reins as he had with Joe. All the time he was chattering about his Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe says horses have feelings just like people. Uncle Joe says all animals know what you're saying, so you have to be careful not to hurt them. Uncle Joe says... .

I should be pleased that I had given him an uncle whom he admired so much.

Essie came out to meet us—as always, a little shy in my company. She took us into Granny's room. Granny was in bed; it was not one of her good days, she told me.

Her black hair was in two plaits and she looked older; she had always seemed out of place in the Pollents' house, although I knew that Essie had done her utmost to make her welcome and at home. The room with the neat dimity curtains and the starched counterpane was not Granny's style; and there was about her an air of resignation, as though, I thought with alarm, she had come here to await the end.

Carlyon climbed onto the bed to embrace her and for a few minutes she talked to him. He remained passively polite in her arms, watching her lips with some concentration, but I knew that he was longing to be with Joe. Essie had told Joe that we were here and when he came in at the door Carlyon was off the bed and rushing at my brother. Joe lifted him in his arms and held him above his head.

"So you be come along to give a hand, have 'ee?"

"Yes, Uncle Joe, I've come to give a hand."

"Well I got to go along to Farmer Pengaster this morning. One of his horses. I be thinking that a bran mash'll be all she's needing. What do 'ee think, partner?"

Carlyon put his head on one side. "Yes, I do think all she be needing is a bran mash, partner."

"Well, look 'ee here, how'd it be if you was to come along with me and have a look at her? I'd get your Aunt Essie to wrap up a pasty for us in case we was to feel a bit peckish."

Carlyon had thrust his hands in his pockets; he was standing with his weight on one leg as Joe stood; he hunched his shoulders which I knew to be a sign of joy.

Joe was glancing at me, his eyes alight with pleasure. There was only one thing I could say.

"You'll bring him back this afternoon then, Joe."

Joe nodded. "Reckon our rounds'll bring us that way. I've got to look in at the Abbas stables... "

Carlyon gave a sudden laugh. "Better be going partner," he said. "It's a heavy morning."

When they had gone, Essie going with them to wrap up the pasties. Granny said to me: "Tis good to see them together." She laughed. "But you don't think so, lovey. Your brother's not good enough for you now."

"No, Granny, that's not true... ."

"You don't like to see the little one playing the vet, eh? And Joe so happy to have him and he's so happy to be with Joe! I trust Joe'll have a son one day, but till that day, lovey, don't grudge him a little share in yours. Remember how you used to love your brother. Remember how you were going to have all the best for him as well as yourself. You were born to love, Kerensa my girl; you do it with all your heart and soul. And tis good to do what you do with all your power, for then you do it well. And the boy's worthy of your devotion, but don't 'ee try to force him, girl. Don't 'ee do that."

"I'd never force him to do anything."

She laid her hand over my own. "You and I understand each other, Granddaughter. I know your mind because it works as mine does. You're uneasy. You've come to talk to me about it."

"I've come to see you, Granny. Are you happy here?"

"My bones is old. They creak, lovey. When I stoop to pick my herbs there's a stiffness in my joint. I'm not young any more. I'm too old to live alone, they tell me. My life is done; now I be lucky to have a comfortable bed where I can rest my old bones while I'm waiting."

"Don't talk like that. Granny."

"Tain't no use shutting your eyes to truth. Tell me, what brought ye here for a talk with your old Granny?"

"It's Johnny."

"Ah!" A film seemed to pass across her eyes. It was often so when I talked of my marriage which was a painful subject to her. She was delighted that my dream had come true, that I was mistress of the Abbas, but I sensed that she wished it could have come about through some other means.

"I'm afraid he's wasting money ... money that should be Carlyon's."

"Don't 'ee look too far ahead, lovey. There be the other one."

"Justin. He's safe ... for a while."

"How can 'ee be sure? He might make up his mind to marry."

"If he were thinking of marriage he would have said so by now. He rarely writes to Mellyora and when he does he never mentions marriage."

"I'm sorry for parson's daughter. She were good to you."

Granny was watching me but I could not meet her eye. I had not told even her what I had done that day when I had found Judith at the bottom of the stairs.

"And you and Johnny?" she asked. "There's a severance between you?"

"Sometimes I feel I don't know much about Johnny."

"There's few of us—however close we be—who can see down deep into another's heart."

I wondered if she knew my secret, if those special powers of hers had revealed it. I said quickly: "What should I do, Granny? I've got to stop him wasting money. I've got to save Carlyon's inheritance."

"Can you make him do as you say, Kerensa?" I m not sure.

"Ah!" She gave a long drawn-out sigh. "I fret about you, Kerensa. I wake sometimes in this room of mine and it do all seem so strange at night, and I fret about you. I wonder about that marriage of yours. Tell me this, Kerensa, if you could go back ... if you could be a maiden once more and the choice were yours, what would it be? Single and fighting your way in the world, a governess or companion—for you had the education to be that—and freedom; or the Abbas and the marriage that had to go with it?"

I turned to her in astonishment. Give up the Abbas, my position, my pride, my dignity ... my son! And for the sake of being an upper servant in someone else's house! There was no need to consider my answer to that. My marriage was not all that one hoped for in a marriage; Johnny was no ideal husband and I was not, and never had been, in love with him; but I did not have to consider for one moment.

"When I married Johnny I made the right choice," I said, and I added: "for me."

A slow smile touched Granny's lips.

"Now I be content," she said. "No more fretting over you, lovey. Why did I doubt? You knew what you wanted right from the time you was a little one. And this new trouble? Don't you fret yourself. You'll see all's well. You'll make Mr. Johnny St. Larnston dance to your tune."

I felt better after that talk with Granny. I drove back to the Abbas alone, assuring myself that I would insist on Johnny's sharing the burdens of the estate with me. I would discover how deeply in debt we were. As for the mild irritation of Carlyon's interest in Joe and his work, all children had these enthusiasms; he would grow out of that when he went away to school and on to the University.

It wasn't easy to tie Johnny down. When I tried to discuss business with him he became flippant; and yet at the same time I sensed a lack of ease in his manner and I knew that deep down he was concerned.

"What do you propose to do?" he demanded. "Wave your witch's wand?"

I retorted that I should like to know exactly how matters stood, and that we might get advice.

"It's not advice we need, sweet wife. It's money."

"Perhaps we could cut down expenses."

"Brilliant idea. You begin."

"We'll both begin. Let us see if we can find means of economizing."

He laid his hands on my shoulders. "The clever little woman!" Then he frowned. "Be more clever still, my love, and keep your nose out of my affairs."

"But Johnny ...I'm your wife."

"A position you secured through bribery and corruption."

"What?"

He laughed aloud. "You amuse me, Kerensa. I never saw anyone more able to play a part. All the lady of the manor now. Even my mother never had quite such an air of the grande dame. I'm not sure that you ought not to be at Court—we're too simple for you here in St. Larnston."

"Can't we be serious?"

"That's what I want to be. I'm asking you to keep out."

"Johnny, if there's a way I'm going to find it. There's Carlyon's future to think of."

He shook me then. "I'm warning you, Kerensa. I don't want your advice. I don't want your help."

"But this concerns us both."

He threw me from him and stalked away.

I had an uneasy feeling that it was more than the lack of money which was worrying Johnny. He wouldn't confide in me; at times he gave me the impression that he hated me; but I was determined to find out.

There were afternoons when he went into Plymouth and did not return until late at night. Another woman? A sudden suspicion came to me that it was she who was ruining him; for myself I did not care, but I cared for Carlyon.

Johnny was a careless man; there were occasions when he forgot to lock his desk.

I told myself that everything I did was for Carlyon and although I did not enjoy going through his private papers I was prepared to do so for the sake of my son.

The morning Johnny left his desk unlocked I learned what I wanted to know.

Johnny was gambling. That would explain his visits to Plymouth. He was deeply in debt, and the majority of his liabilities were gambling debts.

I was going to put a stop to this.

Johnny was not at home. I guessed that he was at the gambling club in Plymouth for he had ridden off that afternoon. I was enraged against him. I had blazed at him, telling him that I knew what he was doing, demanding to know if he had some crazy idea of winning a fortune. I could see that was exactly what he hoped for.

And there was nothing I could do to stop him.

Mellyora and I dined alone together. She knew I was worried because she had always been able to sense my moods; and she guessed that my anxieties were concerned with the estate.

"Things have been going wrong ever since ..." she began.

I did not answer. I could never bear her to refer to Justin.

She was silent, her eyes lowered; I knew that she was thinking of all that might have been. Was she seeing, as I was, herself sitting at this table, Justin smiling at her, a happy Justin, content in his marriage? Was she thinking of the son—the future Sir Justin—who might at this time be asleep in the nurseries?

I felt angry with her. I said sharply: "Things have not been going well at the Abbas for some time."

She played with her knife and fork. "Kerensa, there's going to be a lot of poverty hereabouts."

"You mean when the Fedder mine closes?"

She looked up then and her eyes were full of pity. She nodded.

"It can't be long now," she went on. "And then ..."

"It seems to me that we're all falling on hard times." I couldn't help it but I had to know what was in her mind, so I went on: "Mellyora, have you heard from Justin lately?"

"Not for two months," she answered, and her voice sounded tranquil. "His letters have changed."

"Changed?" I wondered whether she noticed the fear in my voice as soon as I had spoken.

"He seems ... more at peace. Reconciled."

"There is ... someone else?"

"No. It is just that he is at peace ... spiritually."

I said harshly: "If he had really loved you, Mellyora, he would never have left you."

She regarded me steadily. "Perhaps there are several kinds of love, Kerensa. Perhaps it is difficult for us to understand them all."

I felt contemptuous of them both—Justin and Mellyora. I need not reproach myself. They were not capable of deep and passionate love. Love for them had to be right and conventional. That was no way to love. What I had done need not haunt me. After all, if they had really loved, they would not have allowed themselves to be parted. The only worthwhile love was one which was ready to cast aside all worldly considerations for its sake.

We were suddenly aware of unusual sounds. The tramp of feet, the sound of voices.

"What's happening?" I asked, and we were silent, listening, as the voices came closer. I heard the loud clanging of the doorbell, followed by silence and Haggety's footsteps. Then the sound of voices and Haggety was coming to the dining room.

I looked up as he entered. "Yes, Haggety?"

He cleared his throat. "Tis a deputation, Ma'am. They want to see Mr. St. Larnston."

"Did you tell them that he was not at home?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but I don't rightly think they believed me."

"What deputation is this?"

"Well, Ma'am. It be some of the men from Fedder's, I do think, and there's Saul Cundy with 'em."

"And they've come here?" I asked. "Why?"

Haggety looked discomfited. "Well, Ma'am, I did tell them ..."

I knew why they had come. They wanted the St. Larnston mine to be examined for tin. If it were possible that it could provide work, they wanted it provided. And why not? Might it not be the solution to our problems? The mine had saved the Abbas once. Why not again?

I said; "I will see the men, Haggety. Bring them into the library."

Haggety hesitated; I looked at him coldly and he turned away to do my bidding.

In the library I faced the men. Saul Cundy looked big and powerful. A grim man, a leader, I thought; and I wondered once more what he had seen in Hetty Pengaster.

Saul was the spokesman, so I addressed myself to him.

"You have come to see my husband but he is not at home. He consults me in business matters, so if you care to tell me why you have come here I shall be able to pass on your message to him."

They hesitated; I could see skeptical looks on some of the faces. Perhaps they didn't believe that Johnny wasn't at home; perhaps they didn't care to talk to a woman.

Saul Cundy and I took each other's measure. I was sure he was remembering that I was Granny Bee's granddaughter. He decided to talk to me.

"Well, Ma'am," he said, "tis a certain fact that the Fedder mine be closing down and that will bring real hardships to many on us. We believe there be good tin in St. Larnston mine and us wants a chance to find out, and if we be right to get it working."

"That seems fair enough," I answered.

I could see the relief on their faces and I went on: "As soon as my husband returns I will tell him of your visit and the matter will be looked into."

Saul Cundy went on: 'Well, Ma'am, there shouldn't be no delay like. Reckon it 'ud put everyone's mind at rest if we did start getting the boryers ready."

"What makes you so sure there is tin in St. Larnston mine?"

"Well, our grandfathers did tell our fathers and our fathers did tell we how it were closed down sudden like. For a whim, ye might say. Reg'lar lot of hardship it caused too. Well, hard times is coming and hard times is no times for gentlemen to flaunt their whims."

There was a threat there and I did not like threats, but I realized the wisdom of their reasoning. "I will certainly tell my husband that you have called," I assured them.

"And tell him. Ma'am, that we'll be calling again."

I bowed my head and they filed out respectfully.

I went back to Mellyora. She was quite pale.

"Kerensa," she said, her eyes showing her admiration, "is there nothing you will not do?"

I retorted that I could not see that I had done anything extraordinary, and I thought: This is the answer. The mine will be worked again. The Abbas will be saved for Sir Carlyon.

I was awake when Johnny came in that night. I saw before I spoke that there was a look of desperation in his eyes; it was what I had come to recognize as the losing look.

So much the better. He would now be as eager for the investigations into the possibility of working the mine as everyone else.

I sat up in bed, and as soon as he entered I cried: "Johnny, there has been a deputation."

"A what?"

"Saul Cundy and some of the miners have been here. They want you to open the St. Larnston mine."

He sat down on the bed and stared at me.

"I know you don't like it. But it's a way out of our difficulties. What worked once can work again."

"Are you mad?" he demanded. He rose unsteadily and went over to the window; he drew back the curtains and stood there looking out.

"You've been drinking," I accused. "Oh, Johnny, don't you see that something has to be done? These men are going to open up the mine whether you like it or not."

"If I find them on my property, I'll have them up for trespassing."

"Listen, Johnny. Something will have to be done. There's going to be a lot of hardship here when the Fedder mine closes. You can't let our mine stand idle when it could provide work... ."

He turned then, his mouth was twitching. I had not realized he was in such a bad state.

"You know very well that the mine can't be interfered with."

"I know that we've got to do something about it, Johnny."

"What?"

"We've got to show these people that we're willing to open up the mine. What will they think of us if we refuse?"

He looked at me as though he could have killed me. "The mine is not being touched," he said.

"Johnny."

He went out of the room. He didn't come back, but spent the night in his dressing room.

Johnny was adamant. He would not open the mine. I had never known him so stubborn. He had changed; he had always been lighthearted and careless and I could not understand this change in him. Why should he be so sternly against it? He had never cared so much for the family pride as Justin had.

Justin! I had the idea of writing to Justin. After all, Justin was the head of the house still. If he gave his permission for investigations to begin, that was enough.

I hesitated. I pictured Justin's receiving the letter, deciding this was a good enough reason for his return. I saw him winning the approval of the village. Perhaps they would be ready to forget the circumstances which had led to his departure if he returned and opened the mine.

No, I couldn't write to Justin.

Everything was changing in the village. Disaster was threatening; forelocks were pulled with a sullen gesture. We, the St. Larnston family, might have provided work and refused to do so.

A stone was once thrown at Johnny as he rode through the village. He did not know who had thrown it and it did not hit him; but it was a sign.

I had never felt so uneasy.

I did not try remonstrating with him because I had an idea that that made him more stubborn. He was hardly ever at home; he would come in quietly at midnight and creep into the dressing room. He was clearly avoiding me.

I had retired to bed early. I kept telling myself that things couldn't go on in this way. Something would happen. Johnny would give way.

I lay sleepless. I guessed Johnny would not be home until midnight ... or later still. Then I must have another talk with him, no matter how angry I made him. I must remind him of his duty to our son. What foolish family pride this was which made him hold out against the inevitable.

I rehearsed the words I would use, and as I lay there some impulse made me get out of bed and go to the window.

It was a habit of mine often to stand at that window because from it I could see the ring of stones and they fascinated me now as they ever had. None of my problems, I always told myself, were as great as theirs had been. Perhaps that was why I could always draw comfort from them.

I stood very still, for one of the stones had moved. One of the Virgins had come to life! No. It was someone else there ... someone with a lanthom! There was more than one lanthom ... and lights moved eerily about the stones. A figure stood out clearly for a moment; he was wearing a helmet of some sort. I watched him intently; then I saw other figures. They were standing within the circle of stones and they all wore helmets.

I had to know who they were, and what they were doing, so I hastily put on some clothes and left the house. Over the lawns I went to the meadow but when I arrived there was no one there. In the starlight I saw the stones, ghostly, looking like women caught and petrified in the dance. And not far distant the old mine which was causing such controversy.

A sudden thought came to me. Could it have been Saul and his friends meeting to discuss what they would do next? What more appropriate spot to choose for such a meeting!

But they were gone now. I stood within the circle of the stones and while I was wondering what Saul and his friends would do next I could not help thinking of the Six Virgins and chiefly of the seventh who had not come dancing on that fatal night.

Shut in, built in, and left to die!

Stupid fanciful thoughts; but what could one expect when one stood in the center of a ring of stones in starlight?

I didn't hear Johnny come in that night—I must have been asleep when he did—so I didn't have a chance to talk to him.

He rose late next morning and went out. He rode into Plymouth and went to his club there. He must have spent the afternoon gambling.

We afterwards found out that he left the club round about midnight. But he did not come home.

Next morning I saw that the single bed in the dressing room had not been slept in, and I waited all day for him to come in because I had made up my mind that I couldn't delay talking to him any longer.

The next night he did not come either. And when another night and day passed and he had still not returned we began to suspect that something had happened to him.

We made inquiries and it was then we discovered that he had left his club at midnight two nights before. We thought at first that he might have been seen to win money, followed and robbed; but he had lost heavily and had had little money with him when he left.

The search began; the inquiries started.

But no one could trace Johnny. And when a week passed and there was still no news I began to realize that he had indeed disappeared.