She smiled and went out.

I went to the mirror and looked at myself I’m afraid this was becoming a habit since I had come here and murmured:

” That might be Alice … apart from the face.” Then I half closed my eyes and let the face become blurred while I imagined a different face there.

Oh yes, it must have been a shock for Celestine.

And I was not to say anything. I was very willing to agree to this. I wondered what Connan TreMellyn would say if he knew that I was going about in his wife’s clothes and frightened practical people like Celestine Nansellock when they saw me in dim places.

I felt he would not wish me to continue to look so like Alice. So, since I needed Alice’s clothes for my riding lessons with Alvean, and since I was determined they should continue, that I might have the pleasure of saying, I told you so! to Alvean’s father, I was as anxious as Celestine Nansellock that nothing should be said about our encounter on the landing.

A week passed and I felt I was slipping into a routine. Lessons in the schoolroom and the riding field progressed favourably. Peter Nansellock came over to the house on two occasions, but I managed to elude him. I was deeply conscious of Connan TreMellyn’s warning and I knew it to be reasonable. I faced the fact that I was stimulated by Peter Nansellock and that I could very easily find myself in a state of mind when I was looking forward to his visits. I had no-intention of placing myself in that position for I did not need Connan TreMellyn to tell me that Peter Nansellock was a philanderer.

I thought now and then of his brother Geoffry, and I concluded that Peter must be very like him; and when I thought of Geoffry I thought also of Mrs. Polgrey’s daughter of whom she had never spoken; Jennifer with the ” littlest waist you ever saw,” and a way of keeping herself to herself until she had lain in the hay or the gillyflowers with the fascinating Geoffry—the outcome of which had been that one day she walked into the sea.

I shivered to contemplate the terrible pitfalls which lay in wait for unwary women. There were unattractive ones like myself who depended on the whims of others for a living; but there were those even more unfortunate creatures, those who attracted the roving eyes of philanderers and found one day that the only bearable prospect life had to offer was its end.

My interest in Alvean’s riding lessons and her father’s personality had made me forget little Gillyflower temporarily. The child was so quiet that she was easily forgotten. Occasionally I heard her thin reedy voice, in that peculiar off-key singing out of doors or in the house. The Polgreys’ room was immediately below my own, and Gillyflower’s was next to theirs, so that when she sang in her own room her voice would float up to me.

I used to say to myself when I heard it: If she can learn songs she can learn other things.

I must have been given to day-dreams, for side by side with that picture of Connan TreMellyn, handing his daughter the first prize for horse-jumping at the November horse show and giving me an apologetic and immensely admiring and appreciative glance at the same time, there was another picture. This was of Gilly sitting at the schoolroom table side by side with Alvean, while I listened to whispering in the background:

” This could never have happened but for Miss Martha Leigh. You see she is a wonder with the children. Look what she has done for Alvean . and now for Gilly.”

But at this time Alvean was still a stubborn child and Gilly flower elusive and, as the Tapperty girls said: ” With a tile loose in the upper story.”

Then into those more or less peaceful days came two events to disturb me.

The first was of small moment, but it haunted me and I could not get it out of my mind.

I was going through one of Alvean’s exercise books, marking her sums, while she was sitting at the table writing an essay; and as I turned the pages of the exercise book a piece of paper fell out.

It was covered with drawings. I had already discovered that Alvean had a distinct talent for drawing, and one day, when the opportunity offered itself, I intended to approach Connan TreMellyn about this, for I felt she should be encouraged. I myself could teach her only the rudiments of the art, but I believed she was worthy of a qualified drawing teacher.

The drawings were of faces. I recognised one of myself. It was not bad. Did I really look as prim as that? Not always, I hoped. But perhaps that was how he saw me. There was her father . several of him. He was quite recognisable too. I turned the page and this was covered with girls’ faces. I was not sure who they were meant to be.

Herself? No . that was Gilly, surely. And yet it had a look of herself.

I stared at the page. I was so intent that I did not realise she had leaned across the table until she snatched it away.

” That’s mine,” she said.

” And that,” I retaliated, ” is extremely bad manners.”

” You have no right to pry.”

” My dear child, that paper was in your arthmetic book.”

” Then it had no right to be there.”

” You must take your revenge on the paper,” I said lightly. And then more seriously: ” I do beg of you not to snatch things in that ill-mannered way.”

” I’m sorry,” she murmured still defiantly.

I turned back to the sums, to most of which she had given inaccurate answers. Arithmetic was not one of her best subjects. Perhaps that was why she spent so much of her time drawing faces instead of getting on with her work. Why had she been so annoyed? Why had she drawn those faces which were part Gilly’s, part her own? “

I said: ” Alvean, you will have to work harder at your sums.”

She grunted sullenly.

” You don’t seem to have mastered the rules of practice nor even simple multiplication. Now if your arithmetic were half as good as your drawing I should be very pleased.”

Still she did not answer.

” Why did you not wish me to see the faces you had drawn? I thought some of them quite good.”

Still no answer.

” Particularly,” I went on, ” that one of your father.”

Even at such a time the mention of his name could bring that tender, wistful curve to her lips.

” And those girl’s faces. Do tell me who they were supposed to be you or Gilly?”

The smile froze on her lips. Then she said almost breathlessly : ” Who did you take them for. Miss?”

” Whom,” I corrected gently.

” Whom did you take them for then?”

” Well, let me look at them again.”

She hesitated, then she brought out the paper, and handed it to me; her eyes were eager.

I studied the faces. I said: ” This one could be either you or Gilly.”

” You think we’re alike then?”

” N … no. I hadn’t thought so until this moment.

” And now you do,” she said.

“You are of an age, and there often seems to be a resemblance between young people.”

” I’m not like her!” she cried passionately. ” I’m not like that … idiot.”

” Alvean, you must not use such a word. Don’t you realise that it is extremely unkind?”

” It’s true. But I’m not like her. I won’t have you say it. If you say it again I’ll ask my father to send you away. He will … if I ask him. I only have to ask and you’ll go.”

She was shouting, trying to convince herself of two things, I realised. One that there was not the slightest resemblance between herself and Gilly, and the other that she only had to ask her father for something, and her wishes would be granted.

Why? I asked myself. What was the reason for this vehemence?

There was a shut-in expression on her face.

I said, calmly looking at the watch pinned to my grey cotton bodice: ” You have exactly ten minutes in which to finish your essay.”

I drew the arithmetic book towards me and pretended to give it my attention.

The second incident was even more upsetting.

It had been a moderately peaceful day, which meant that lessons had gone well. I had taken my late evening stroll in the woods and when I returned I saw two carriages drawn up in front of the house. One I recognised as from Mount Widden so I guessed that either Peter or Celestine was visiting. The other carriage I did not know, but I noticed a crest on it, and it was a very fine carriage. I wondered to whom it belonged before I told myself that it was no concern of mine.

I went swiftly up the back stairs to my apartment.

It was a warm night and as I sat at my window I heard music coming from another of the open windows. I realised that Connan TreMellyn was entertaining guests.

I pictured them in one of the rooms which I had not even seen. Why should you, I asked myself. You are only a governess. Connan TreMeIlyn, his gaunt body clothed elegantly, would be presiding at the card table or perhaps sitting with his guests listening to music.

I recognised the music as from Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and I felt a sudden longing to be down there among them; but I was astonished that this desire should be greater than any I had ever had to be present at Aunt Adelaide’s soirees or the dinner parties Phillida gave. I was overcome with curiosity and could not resist the temptation to ring the bell and summon Kitty or Daisy who always knew what was going on and were only too happy to impart that knowledge to anyone who was interested to hear it.

It was Daisy who came. She looked excited.

I said: ” I want some hot water. Daisy. Could you please bring it for me?”

” Why yes. Miss,” she said.

” There are guests here tonight, I understand.”

” Oh yes. Miss. Though it’s nothing to the parties we used to have. I reckon now the year’s up, the Master will be entertaining more. That’s what Mrs. Polgrey says.”

” It must have been very quiet during the last year.”

“But only right and proper … after a death in the family.”

” Of course. Who are the guests tonight?”

” Oh, there’s Miss Celestine and Mr. Peter of course.”

” I saw their carriage.” My voice sounded eager and I was ashamed. I was no better than any gossiping servant.

” Yes, and I’ll tell you who else is here.”

” Who?”

” Sir Thomas and Lady Treslyn.”

She looked conspiratorial as though there was something very important about these two.

” Oh?” I said encouragingly.

“Though,” went on Daisy, “Mrs. Polgrey says that Sir Thomas bain’t fit to go gallivanting at parties, and should be abed.”

” Why, is he ill?”

” Well, he’ll never see seventy again and he’s got one of those bad hearts. Mrs. Polgrey says you can go off sudden with g neither. Not

She stopped and twinkled at me. I longed to ask her to continue, but I felt it was beneath my dignity to do so. Disappointingly she seemed to pull herself up sharply.

” She’s another kettle of fish.”

“Who?”

” Why, Lady Treslyn of course. You ought to see her. She’s got a gown cut right down to here and the loveliest flowers on her shoulder.

She’s a real beauty, and you can see she’s only waiting”— ” I gather she is not of the same age as her husband. “

Daisy giggled. ” They say there’s nearly forty years’ difference in their ages, and she’d like to pretend it was fifty.”

” You don’t seem to like her.”

” Me? Well, if I don’t, some do!” That sent Daisy into hysterical laughter again, and as I looked at her ungainly form in her tight clothes and listened to her whee2y laughter, I was ashamed of myself for sharing the gossip of a servant, so I said : ” I would like that hot water, Daisy.”

Daisy subsided and went off to get it, leaving me with a dearer picture of what was happening in that drawing room.

I was still thinking of them when I had washed my hands and unpinned my hair preparatory to retiring for the night.

The musicians had been playing a Chopin waltz and it had seemed to spirit me away from my governess’s bedroom and tantalise me with pleasures outside my reach—a dainty beauty, a place of salons such as that somewhere in this house, wit, charm, the power to make the chosen man love me.

I was startled by such thoughts. What had they to do with a governess such as myself.

I went to the window. The weather had been fine and warm for so long that I did not believe it could continue. The autumn mists would soon be with us and I heard that they and the gales which blew from the southwest were, as Tapperty would say, ” something special in these parts.”