"You've really made their cause your own, haven't you?" he went on. "I dare say they will ask you to be godmother when the baby arrives."

I did not answer.

He came a little closer. "They seem pleased with life," he mused. "There's a great deal to be said for marriage. Do you agree with me, Susannah?"

"Oh yes ... of course."

"You contemplated it once yourself ... you and Esmond."

I was silent. I was aware that I was on very dangerous ground.

"Susannah," he continued, "there are things I want to know."

"I think we should be getting back to the castle," I said quickly.

He had taken my arm. "What's the matter, Susannah?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid!" I laughed, and hoped my laughter sounded convincing. "What are you talking about? Come along. I must get back now."

"There's something I have to discover," he added.

I was sure then that he suspected me. I started to walk very quickly, and he kept close beside me but he said no more.

When I was ready to leave for the rounds that afternoon he was waiting for me.

"Mind if I accompany you?" he asked.

"Of course not ... if you want to."

"I want to very much," he replied.

Strangely enough, he said nothing more to disturb me and I felt really happy that afternoon. I found great pleasure riding beside him in the sunshine. I tried to forget that I was here under false pretenses. I tried to believe that I really was Susannah, a Susannah who cared about helping people and found happiness doing so.

We went past the Thorns' cottage but did not call.

I said: "Miss Thorn has spent many years looking after her disagreeable old mother."

"A fate reserved for numbers of women."

"It's not fair," I said. "I'm going to do something for her if I can."

"What?"

"I've discovered Miss Thorn is full of anxieties. Think of the life she leads! Oh, I do wish I could make her happy."

We had ridden some way round the estate and entered the woods. To me they would always be enchanted woods because of that episode in my childhood.

"Let's rest here awhile," said Malcolm. "It was always my favorite spot."

"Mine too," I said.

"There's a wonderful view of the castle from here. It looks like something out of a painting."

We tied up our horses and stretched out on the grass.

This was the nearest I had come to contentment since my parents had died; and the realization suddenly came to me that I could find happiness again. There was something else I had learned. My happiness was not entirely due to what I had been able to do on the estate. It was because of Malcolm.

He reminded me of my father. He was after all a distant connection. There was a strong streak of Mateland in him. I told myself that friendship with Malcolm supplied something that I needed to fill the terrible gap in my life.

He said suddenly: "How beautiful it is! Do you know, Susannah, this to me is the most beautiful spot in the world."

"You love the castle."

"Yes. You too."

"There is something enthralling about a castle," I added. "One thinks of all that has happened there. Just to look at it transports one back as far as the twelfth century and a hundred years later when the first Matelands came."

"You're well versed in the family history."

"Aren't you?"

"I am. But you ... Susannah ... you used to be so different."

That phrase always filled me with apprehension. "Was I?" I said faintly.

"I disliked you intensely as a child. You were a selfish little brat."

"Some children are."

"You were particularly so. You believed that the whole world existed to feed Susannah's whims."

"Was I really as bad as all that?"

"Worse," he said emphatically. "Even later... ."

"Yes?" I prompted, my heart beating faster.

"Since you came back from Australia I've been astounded. All that drama over the Chiverses' cottage and poor little Leah."

"There's nothing very unusual about it," I said. "It's a sad human story that repeats itself again and again."

"It's Susannah's part in it that's so unusual. You really cared, didn't you? And you've won little Leah's eternal gratitude."

"It was so little I did."

"You showed Jeff Carleton that you were in charge."

"Well, I am, am I not? He knows that."

"He knows it now."

"I suppose you think that a woman should not be in this position!"

He was silent for a while. Then he said: "It depends on the woman."

"And you think this woman is worthy?"

"Completely so," he answered gravely.

We were silent for a while; then I said: "Malcolm ... you thought when Esmond died this would come to you... ."

"Yes," he said, "I thought it likely."

"And you wanted it. You wanted it badly."

"Yes. I did."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm."

He laughed. "Sorry! Of course you mustn't be. It's what's called fate. I never really thought your grandfather would leave the management of the estate to a woman. He must have been very fond of you."

"You've done a great deal for the castle. I wish ..."

"Yes, what do you wish?"

I didn't answer that. I could not tell him what was in my mind. So I said: "I suppose you will be going away. We shall miss you ... Jeff and I."

He leaned towards me and put his hand over mine.

"Thank you, Susannah. I might be persuaded to stay."

My heart began to beat fast. What was he hinting? Could he possibly mean that he and I would marry ... as Susannah and Esmond had intended to?

He was watching me intently. I thought, The moment has come. If he asks me to marry him I shall have to tell. And what would he think if he knew that I was a cheat and a fraud?

I heard myself say: "But you have your own life. What do you do when you are not here?"

He looked at me in puzzlement and I realized at once what a mistake I had made. Of course Susannah would have known what he did.

After a pause he said: "Well, you know Stockley has to be managed. Tom Rexon is a good manager fortunately. That's why I can always leave things to him. If there is a major decision to be made he can get in touch. Otherwise he's completely capable."

So his home was Stockley. I wondered where. I must be careful not to betray myself. It was so easy to take a false step and I saw that I had just made one. I had halted the flow of conversation. What had he been about to say? Whatever it was, he was not going to say it now.

He talked of Stockley and the difference between his estate and that of the castle. "It hasn't the fascination of the castle, of course, but I love the old place. After all, it's mine."

And as I lay there listening to Malcolm I realized that I was making my position more complicated than ever because I was falling in love with him.

The idyl continued. Each morning we rode together. There was one occasion when my horse lost a shoe and we had to take her to a blacksmith. While we were waiting for the horse to be shod we went into the nearby hostelry and drank cider and ate hot bread with cheese. Food had rarely tasted so good and I was once more poignantly reminded of the time when I had picnicked in the woods with my parents and had had three wishes. If only I could have three wishes now. I should wish that... no, not that I was Susannah, but that I could be made the rightful heiress of the castle, and Malcolm could fall in love with me, and the third would be that I could forget the tragedy of Vulcan Island.

That was absurd. I would never forget but I might with good luck superimpose another image over the past. I might find the present and the future so enthralling that I should never be tempted to look back and long for the days before the disaster.

Why should I wish for these things to happen to me? I didn't deserve them. I had committed a mighty fraud and must not complain if I had to pay for my wickedness.

But how happy I could have been if things were different.

That day, I remember, we discussed the case of Emily Thorn.

I had at last broken through that reserve of hers and made her admit her fear.

I had cornered her in her kitchen only the day before. She had been so nervous. She said she would make me a cup of tea and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. Just as she had opened the tea caddy there was the sound of knocking from above. She had looked flustered, frustrated and anxious.

She dropped the caddy and the tea was spilled all over the table.

"Oh dear," she said, "what an idiot I am! Mother is right."

"It's nothing," I said. I took the caddy from her hands and spooned up some tea which had spilled onto the table.

"Go and see what your mother wants," I said. "I'll make the tea."

She went away and when she came back I had made the tea.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked.

"No. She only wanted her lemonade. She must have heard someone down here, Miss Susannah."

I could believe that. If she thought her daughter was with a visitor she would want to interrupt them.

Because Miss Thorn was distraught I came closer to her that morning over the cup of tea than I had ever been able to before.

She had been a lady's maid. She had enjoyed that

"I had a lovely lady," she said. "She had lovely hair and I knew just how to make it look its best. She used to be ever so pleased with me. She'd give me dresses and ribbons and things like that. Then she got married and I could have gone with her, but Mother wanted someone to look after her so I had to come home."

Poor Miss Thorn, whose only glimpse of joy had been to dress another woman's hair and receive her castoff garments.

I then discovered the real source of her anxiety. That her mother made her life a burden was clear, as was the fact that she was condemned to look after her for the rest of her life. That she accepted, but when her mother died where would she go? She would have to find a post and somewhere to live. How could she do that? She would be getting old herself.

I said to her: "There's no need to worry. While your mother lives, things must remain as they are, but you must not be afraid that you will be turned out of the cottage before we have found something else for you. Who knows? I might decide I would like a lady's maid."

And as we sat in the inn I told Malcolm what I had said. He looked at me searchingly for a long time.

"This is not the way to run an estate successfully, you know, Susannah," he said.

"It's the way to run it happily," I replied. The change in Miss Thorn is miraculous."

"You're behaving like a fairy godmother."

"What's wrong with fairy godmothers?"

"It's all right when they have magic at their fingertips."

"I have ... to a certain extent. I mean I have the means to help these people solve their problems."

Then he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

I drew back. He raised his eyebrows and said: "I couldn't help it. You looked so lovely, glowing with virtue." He put his elbows on the table and regarded me quizzically. "Tell me, Susannah, what happened in Australia?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It must have been something tremendous. Like St. Paul on the road to Damascus. You've changed. You've changed so utterly."

"I'm sorry but . . ,"

"Sorry! It's not a matter for sorrow. It's one for rejoicing.

You've become a new Susannah. You've become aware... . You've become vulnerable. I always thought you had a skin like an armadillo. All you wanted was your own way. But something must have happened in Australia... ."

"I found my father, of course."

He was looking at me steadily and I was growing more and more uneasy.

"Now I come to think of it, you don't even look the same. I could almost believe ... But then I don't believe in fairy stories. Do you?"

I thought of three wishes in an enchanted wood and hesitated.

"You do!" he cried. "Some old witch came to you, did she? She said: "I'll make you what you would like to be and in exchange I'll take your soul.' Oh, Susannah, you haven't bartered your soul, have you?"

I could not meet his eyes. But I was thinking, Yes, perhaps I have.

"Don't let anything change you back, Susannah. Please stay as you are."

I just sat there looking at him and I knew then that I was in love with Malcolm Mateland. I felt exhilarated and then despair came to me as the hopelessness of my situation came home to me.