"You are silent, Cordelia," she said. "I understand. You are overcome. It is the effect it has on all sensitive people."

"The girls ... how do they feel about all this antiquity?"

"Frivolous creatures most of them ... unaware of it."

"And the mistresses?"

"Oh, I think some of them are surprised when they first come. But it grows on them. They realize that they are privileged."

I was silent. I touched the rough stone wall and looked through the Norman arch to the sky. Daisy Hetherington patted my arm. "Come along in," she said. "We dine at seven thirty."

Dinner was served in the Lay Brothers' Refectory which must have been more or less the same as it was seven centuries before with its vaulted ceiling and long narrow slits of windows.

Daisy presided at the head of the table looking like an abbess herself. The food was excellent. "All home-grown," she told me. "It is one of the features of the place. We have plenty of space. The old kitchen gardens for instance, and we make good use of them. I have two gardeners working full time, and Emmet helps out. So do the other stable boys."

I could see that this was a very large establishment. It made Grantley Manor seem almost amateur in comparison.

At dinner I was introduced to Mademoiselle Jeannette Dupont, Frâulein Irma Kutcher and Eileen Eccles, the art mistress, who had arrived. I was able to talk both in French and German which delighted not only those I talked to but Daisy herself who, although she herself did not venture beyond English, liked to stress the fact that I was fluent in both languages.

Jeannette Dupont was in her mid twenties, I imagined, and rather pretty. Irma Kutcher wasn't much older but appeared to be, as she was rather stern-looking, and I was sure took her post very seriously.

Eileen Eccles was the typical art mistress with rather untidy hair and expressive dark eyes; she wore a loose dress of mingling shades of brown with a faint touch of scarlet and she looked every inch the artist.

We talked of school matters, and I had the feeling that I should not find it too difficult to fit into Daisy's establishment. She herself did most of the talking and it was all about the school and the idiosyncrasies of certain pupils. I felt I was getting a real grasp of everything.

When dinner was over we went into Daisy's study and there the conversation continued in the same vein until she said she was sure I was tired and would like to retire.

"The rest of the mistresses will be arriving tomorrow or the next day. And on Tuesday all the girls who have been home will be coming back."

Mademoiselle asked if the Verringer sisters would be returning on Tuesday.


"Of course," said Daisy. "Why not?"

"I have thought," said Mademoiselle, "that there is this death in the family ... and they stay at home to mourn."

"Sir Jason wouldn't want that. They'll be better off at school. They'll be joining us on Tuesday. Charlotte Mackay will be with them. She has been spending the holiday at the Hall. It must have been rather awkward to have her there at such a time. However, I believe the families know each other. Now, I am sure Miss Grant is very tired. Miss Eccles, perhaps you would take Miss Grant to her room. I am sure she will soon find her way around but just at first it can be confusing."

Miss Eccles rose and led the way.

When we were on the staircase, she turned to me and said: "Daisy can be a little overpowering at times. It's not so bad when there are more of us."

I didn't answer that but merely smiled and she went on: "This place takes a bit of getting used to. I can't tell you the number of times I nearly packed up and went home during my first term. But I stuck it out, and in a funny sort of way it grows on you. I think I'd be rather sad to leave now."

"Mademoiselle and Fraulein seem very pleasant."

"They're all right. So is Daisy in her way. All you have to do is keep on the right side of her and remember that, like God, she knows all, sees all and is always right."

"Sounds simple but faintly alarming."

"Keep everything in order and she's all right. Have you taught before? Oh no, I remember you've just come from Schaffenbrucken. I ought not to forget that. Daisy's told us about a dozen times already."

"They make such a fuss about that place."

"It is the Nec plus ultra."

I laughed.

"At least in Daisy's eyes," she went on. "You've teaching social graces, I believe."

"Yes, I have to work out how I am going to do that."

"Just walk in the steps of Schaffenbrucken and you can't go wrong."

"It must be gratifying to teach art when you fend talent."

"We haven't a Rubens or a Leonardo among us, I'm afraid. At least, if there are, we haven't at the moment discovered them. If they can produce a recognizable landscape I'm happy enough. Perhaps I'm not being quite fair. There are actually two girls who have a little talent. Here you are. This is where you sleep. You've got the important Verringers under your wing. I think that's because Daisy feels they might imbibe a little Schaffenbrucken even while they're sleeping. There! It's a little chilly. It always is. You could easily imagine you were a monk. Daisy likes us to follow the monastic ways as much as possible. Don't worry. They haven't laid out your hair shirt. You just forget you're in an abbey and get a good night's sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

I said good night. I liked her. She amused me and was comforting to know that I had pleasant companions like those I had met on this night. I brushed my hair and undressed quickly. On the table there was a mirror and I guessed that was one of the modern concessions which Daisy liked to stress. I felt the bed. It was narrow as befitted my -Bell-like room, but it seemed comfortable.

I got into bed and pulled the sheets up round me. It was difficult to get to sleep. The day had been too exciting and my surroundings were so unusual. I lay with the sheets up to my chin thinking about it all and wondering about-and yes, looking forward to-the future.

I wanted most of all to make the acquaintance of the girls.

As the time passed I seemed to grow more and more wide awake. It is always difficult to sleep in few places and when one is in an ancient abbey, full of the impressions of another age, it is only natural that one should be wakeful. I turned to the wall and stared at it. There was enough light coming through the narrow window to show me the marks on the grey stone, and I wondered how many monks had lain staring at the walls during long nights of meditation and prayer.

Then suddenly I was alert. I had heard a faint sound and it was not far away-a quick intake of breath and then a suppressed sob.

I sat up in bed listening. Silence and then ... yes. There it was again. Someone not very far away from me was crying and trying to stifle the sound.

I got out of bed, felt for my slippers and put on my dressing gown. The sound was coming from the room on my right ... one of the rooms of which I was to be in charge.

I went into the corridor, my slippers making a faint sound on the flagged stone.

"Who's there?" I said quietly.

I heard the quick intake of breath. There was no answer.

"Is anything wrong? Just answer me."

"N ... no," said a frightened voice.

I had located the room and I pushed open the door. In the dim light I saw two beds and in one of them a girl was sitting up. As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom I saw that she had long fair hair and wide startled eyes, and must be about sixteen or seventeen years old.

"What's wrong?" I said. "I'm the new mistress." She nodded and her teeth started to chatter. "It's nothing ... nothing," she began.

"It must be something," I said. I went to her bed and sat down on it. "You're unhappy about something, aren't you?" She regarded me solemnly with those wide scared eyes. "You needn't be afraid of me," I went on. "I know what it is to be homesick. That's it, isn't it? I went away to school ... in Switzerland actually ... when I was your age."

"D ... did you?" she stammered.

"Yes, so you see, I know all about it."

"I'm not homesick ... because you can't be sick about what isn't, can you?"

I was remembering. "I think I know who you are. You're Teresa Hurst, and you've been staying at the school during the holiday."

She seemed relieved that I knew so much.

"Yes," she said. "And you're Miss Grant. I knew you were coming.

"I'm to be in charge of this section."

"It won't be so bad when the others come. It's rather frightening at night when it's all so quiet." "There's nothing to be frightened of really. Your parents are in Africa, aren't they?"

She nodded. "Rhodesia," she added.

"I know what it feels like, because funnily enough my parents were in Africa too. They were missionaries and they couldn't have me with them so I was sent home to my Aunt Patty."

`I was sent to my mother's cousins."

"What a coincidence! So we were both in the came boat. I hated the thought of coming to England and leaving my parents. I was scared.

Then I came to my Aunt Patty and that was lovely."

"My cousins don't really want me. They always make excuses at holiday times. The children have measles, or they are going away ... and so I stay at school. I think I'd really rather. It's just at night ..."

"I shall be here now and the girls will be coming on Tuesday."

Yes, that makes it better. Did you mind going me to your Aunt Patty?"

"I loved it. She is the best aunt anybody ever had, and I've still got her."

"That must be lovely."

"Yes, it is. Anyway I'm here now. I'm sleeping close to you. If you are frightened, just come and tell me. Will that be all right?"

"Yes, that will be lovely."

"I'll say goodnight then. Are you all right now?"

"Yes. I'll know you're there. It's only that sometimes the girls laugh at me. They think I'm a bit of a baby."

"I'm sure you're not that."

"You see they go to their homes and they never want to come back to school. They love the holidays. I dread them. It makes a difference."

"Yes, I know. But you'll be all right. You and I will be friends, and you'll know I'm here to help you."

"I think it's funny that your parents were in Africa too."

"Yes, quite extraordinary, isn't it? Clearly we were meant to be friends."

"I'm glad," she said.

"I'll tuck you in. Do you think you could go to sleep now?"

"Yes, I think so, and I won't mind if I think I see ... shadows. I'll know I can come to you. You did mean that, didn't you?"

"I did. But I don't think you'll be coming because everything is going to be all right. Good night, Teresa."


"Good night, Miss Grant."

I went back to my room. Poor lonely child! I was glad I had heard her and had been able to give her a little comfort. I would look out for her in the days ahead and make sure she was not bullied.

I took some time to get warm enough for sleep but I think that Little encounter had soothed me as well as Teresa Hurst and finally I did sleep. I had wild dreams though. I dreamed that I was riding through the pave in a carriage and I was aware of the mighty buttresses on either side of the carriage and the blue sky overhead. Suddenly another carriage was blocking the way and I saw a man .serge from it. He looked in at my window at me and shouted: "Go back. You are in my way." It was a- wild dark face; then it changed suddenly and it was that of Edward Compton.

I awoke uneasily and for a moment wondered where I was.

Only a dream, I told myself. I did dream more than I used to. It was ever since I had met the stranger in the forest.


I awoke, sat up in bed and looked at the bare stone walls and sparse furnishings, and a feeling of excitement swept over me.

I washed and dressed. I took a look into Teresa Hurst's room. Her bed was neatly made and she was not there. I wondered if I was late.

I found my way down to the room in which we'd dined on the previous evening. Daisy was seated at the table and Mademoiselle Dupont and Frâulein Kutcher were with her.

"Good morning," said Daisy. "I trust you slept well."

I thanked her and told her that I had.

I acknowledged the greetings of the others and Daisy signed for me to be seated.