That pronouncement of hers and my presence seemed to put an end to the subject—or at least I did not hear it mentioned again.

After Joe's wedding, events began to crowd one on another leading up to that climax which would haunt me for the rest of my days.

I watched Fanny constantly so that I should not lose my opportunity of catching her.

The day came when I was successful.

Dinner was always a rather formal meal at the Abbas. We dressed, not elaborately, but in what we called semi-evening dress. I had bought a few simple dresses, subduing my natural love of color; I always enjoyed these meals because they gave me a chance to show how easily and naturally I had adjusted myself since my rise from the kitchen to the dining room.

Justin sat at one end of the table; Judith at the other. But I would often sign to Haggety when dishes should be served. Old Lady St. Larnston was too fatigued to care that I had assumed these duties; as for Judith she wouldn't notice that I did. I always fancied that Justin was irritated by my arrogance; as for Johnny he was amused, half cynically, half delightedly. He enjoyed watching me with my cool manners which were so different from Judith's. I don't think he ever grew tired of faying to draw the comparison between us and showing how much more brightly I could shine than Judith; and in fact as I became more polished, more sure of myself, more the lady of the house, so Judith deteriorated. Her drinking habits were having the inevitable effect, her hands would shake as she lifted her glass to her lips; how eagerly she took her wine, how surreptitiously she filled it again and again.

It was not a happy state of affairs between the brothers—but I was not responsible for that. In fact, it was gratifying to know that I had given Johnny his new dignity and importance in the house.

On this particular night Judith looked worse than I had ever seen her before. Her dress was not properly buttoned, and her hair, insecurely pinned, was beginning to fall down at the back.

A sudden thought struck me. She had dressed herself this evening.

It excited me. Could it be that this was the day?

Justin was saying: "I met Fedder this afternoon. He's concerned about the mine."

"Why?" asked Johnny.

"There are signs that the lode is giving up. He says they've been working at a loss and he's already dispensing with some of his people."

Johnny whistled. "That's bad."

"Going to be very bad for the neighborhood," went on Justin.

He frowned. He was different from Johnny. He would be a good squire, caring about the neighborhood. These thoughts passed lightly through my mind because I was longing for the moment when I could go up to Fanny's room and see what had happened to her.

"Fedder was hinting that we ought to open up the St Larnston mine."

Johnny was looking at me. I saw the anger in his face, and was mildly surprised that he should care so much.

I heard his voice then; it sounded strangled with fury. "You told him that we should do no such thing, I suppose."

"The idea," said Justin, "of having a working mine so close to the house does not appeal to me."

Johnny laughed a little uneasily. "I should think not."

"What's that?" asked my mother-in-law.

"We were talking about the mine. Mother," said Justin.

"Oh dear," she sighed. "Haggety, a little more of the Burgundy."

That meal seemed interminable. But at last we had left Johnny and Justin over their port and on the way to the drawing room, I made an excuse to go upstairs and straight to Fanny's room.

I stood for a few seconds outside, listening. Then cautiously I opened the door and looked in.

She was lying on her bed, completely intoxicated. I could smell the whiskey fumes as I approached her.

I hurried back to the dining room where the men were sitting over their port.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I must speak to you both without delay. Fanny must be told to go at once."

"What's happened?" asked Johnny, with a flicker of amusement in his eyes which was always there when he imagined I was playing the mistress of the house.

"We must be frank among ourselves," I said. "J^^^ ^^s been worse since Fanny came here. I am not surprised. Fanny encourages her to drink. The woman is lying on her bed now—drunk."

Justin had grown pale; Johnny gave a little laugh.

I ignored my husband and appealed to Justin. "She must go at once. You must tell her to go."

"Certainly she must go," said Justin.

"Go to her room now and you will see for yourself," I said.

He did. He saw.

The next morning he sent for Fanny; she was told to pack her bags and leave without delay.

The subject of Fanny's dismissal was being discussed in the kitchen. I could imagine the excitement, and what was being said round the table.

"Was it Fanny who led her ladyship astray or t'other way about, do 'ee think?"

"Well, tis small surprise her ladyship do take a little nip now and then ... when you think of what 'er has to put up with."

"Do 'ee think Miss Martin put 'un up to it?"

" 'Er? Well, it may be. Parson's daughter can be as sly as any other, I reckon."

Judith was desolate. She had come to rely on Fanny. I talked to her and tried to persuade her to pull herself together, but she remained melancholy.

"She was my friend," said Judith. "That was why she went ..."

"She went because she was discovered drunk."

"They wanted her out of the way because she knew too much."

"Too much about what?" I asked sharply.

"About my husband and that girl."

"You must not say such things ... nor even think such things. They are quite untrue."

"They are not untrue. I talked to Jane Carwillen ... and she believed me."

"So you have been to see her."

"Yes, you told me to, didn't you? You told me she asked for me. I told her how he wanted that girl . , . how he wished he hadn't married me. And she believed me. She said she wished I'd never married. She said she wished we were together as we used to be."

"But she was glad, wasn't she, that Fanny had been dismissed?" Judith was silent. Then she burst out: "You're against me ... all of you."

It was a week after Fanny had left when Judith went looking for whiskey with a lighted candle. I did not come onto the scene until the drama was at its height, but discovered later that Judith, after searching in vain for the bottles which Fanny had kept in her cupboard and which had been removed at the time of her dismissal, had set down the lighted candle in Fanny s old room and left it. An open door, a sudden draft, and the curtains were alight.

Justin was accustomed to taking lonely rides. I had guessed that there were occasions when he wanted to be alone with his uneasy thoughts. I often wondered whether during those lonely rides he made wild plans which he knew—being the man he was—he would never put into execution. Perhaps he found some relief in planning even though he knew the plans would never come to anything.

Returning from one of these drives I imagined that after stabling his horse he would walk to the house, unable to prevent his eyes straying to the window of the room which was Mellyora's.

And on this night he saw smoke coming from that side of the house in which she slept and what more natural than that he should rush to her room.

She told me afterwards that she had awakened and smelt the smoke, had put on her dressing gown and was about to investigate when the door burst open and there was Justin.

In such a moment how could they hide their feelings? He must have embraced her, and Judith, wandering in search of her solace, came upon them thus as she had so often sought to find them; Mellyora in her dressing gown, her fair hair loose; Justin his arms about her, caught displaying that affection for which Judith had longed so passionately.

Judith began to scream and awoke us all.

The fire was soon put out. It wasn't even necessary to call the brigade; only the curtains and some of the walls were damaged. But greater damage had been done.

I shall never forget that scene, with the servants all assembled in their nightclothes, with the acrid smell in our nostrils, and Judith... .

She must have had a small secret store of her own for she had certainly been drinking, but she was sober enough to choose a moment when we were all present so that we should all know. She began to shout.

"This time I've caught you. You didn't know I saw you. You were in her room. You were holding her... kissing her... . You think I didn't know. Everybody knows. Ever since she came here it's been going on. That's why you had her here. You wished you'd married her. But that makes no difference. You'll not let a little matter like that stand in your way... ."

"Judith," warned Justin, "you've been drinking."

"Of course I've been drinking. What else have I? Wouldn't you drink ... ?" She stared at us glassily, waving her arms. "Wouldn't you ... if your husband had his mistress here in the house ... if he made every excuse to get away from you ... to go to her... ."

"We must get her to her room quickly," said Justin. He was looking at me almost pleadingly so I went to Judith and took her arm.

I said very firmly: "Judith, you are not well. You have imagined something which does not exist. Come, let me take you to your room."

She began to laugh wildly, demoniacally. She turned towards Mellyora and for a moment I thought she was going to fly at her; I quickly placed myself between them and said: "Mrs. Rolt, Lady St. Larnston is unwell. Please help me to take her to her room."

Mrs. Rolt took one of Judith's arms, I the other, and although Judith tried to free herself we were too strong for her. I caught one glimpse of Mellyora's face; it was quite stricken; I saw the pain and shame in Justin's. Never, I imagined, had there been such a scene in the history of the Abbas —the shocking element being of course that it was happening in the sight of all the servants. I saw Johnny; his smile was sly; he was delighted at his brother's discomfiture and at the same time proud because I—the lady's maid—was the one who had taken charge of the situation, the one on whom Justin was relying to end it as quickly as it could be ended.

Between us, Mrs. Rolt and I dragged the hysterical Judith to her room. I shut the door and said, "We'll just get her to bed, Mrs. Rolt."

We did so and covered her up. "Dr. Hilliard gave her some sedatives," I went on. "I think she should have one now."

I gave it to her and to my surprise she meekly took it. Then she began to cry weakly. "If I could have a child it would be different," she murmured. "But how can D He's never with me. He doesn't care for me. He only cares for her. He never comes to me. He shuts himself in his room. The door's locked. Why is the door locked? Tell me that. Because he doesn't want me to know where he is. I know, though. He's with her."

Mrs. Rolt clicked her tongue and I said: "I'm afraid, Mrs. Rolt, that she has been drinking."

"Poor soul," murmured Mrs. Rolt. "Can you wonder at it?"

I raised my eyebrows to imply that I wanted no confidences and Mrs. Rolt immediately recoiled.

I said coldly: "She will be quiet in a moment. I don't think there is any need for you to stay now, Mrs. Rolt"

"I'd like to help all I can, Ma'am."

"You have been a great help," I told her, "But there is nothing else to be done. Tm afraid Lady St. Larnston is sick ... very sick."

She had lowered her eyes: I knew that there would be sly knowledge in her eyes.

Mellyora was in distress.

"You must see, Kerensa, that I can't stay here now. I'll have to go."

I was thoughtful, wondering what my life would be like without her.

"There must be something we can do."

"I can't endure it. They are whispering about me. All the servants. I know it. Doll and Daisy chatter together; they're all silent as soon as I appear. And Haggety... . He's looking at me in a different way as though ..."

I knew Haggety and I understood.

"I must find some way of keeping you here, Mellyora. I'll dismiss Haggety. I'll dismiss all the servants... ."

"How could you? Besides, it wouldn't help. They're talking all the time about us. And it's untrue, Kerensa. Say you believe it's untrue."

"That you and he are lovers? I can see he loves you, Mellyora; and I know you have always loved him."