He said: "Have you written to your lover yet?”

"No. I intend to do so today.”

He said: "Do so now; and I will take the letter and see that it is dispatched at once.”

He found her writing materials, cleared a space for her on the table, and went out to prepare for a journey, leaving her to write.

Carolan sat at the table and conjured up a picture of Everard, and then began.

Dearest Everard, No doubt you will be surprised to hear from me that I have left Haredon. I found it impossible to stay there. Charles and the squire made it impossible. Please understand me: there seemed but one thing to do, and that to get away quickly; there seemed to be one place to go to, and that the house of my parents. So I am here, dearest Everard, as you will see, at number sixty Grape Street. My father is very, very kind, and my mother is glad to see me. They have the oddest shop, and I hope to help them, but I also hope that it will not be long before you come for me or tell me to come to you. I think of you continually, Everard, and if you should think it was wrong of me to leave Haredon so hastily, please try to understand that I could not stay; I can explain more fully when we meet. My father is going to take this letter and dispatch it for me; he is ready to go out now.

Darling Everard, it is only one month since you said au revoir to me; it seems like one year. Two months seems an age. I am longing to see you, darling.

Your ever constant Carolan.

It took a long time to write the letter. She wanted to show him, without actually asking him to do so, that he must break his promise to his mother because her need of him was urgent.

When she read the letter through it sounded cold; it did not adequately express her feelings. She would have written another, had she not known that her father was ready, waiting to go out.

He took the letter and put it into his pocket. He sat on the edge of the table, looking down at her.

He said: "Do you think he will come for you before the two months are up, Carolan?”

"I do not know. He has given his promise...”

"I do not understand how he could give such a promise; not to see you for three months... that seems to me incredible.”

"You do not know Everard. He does not get excited as I do. He thinks clearly; he measures his actions. He loves me; indeed he must, for I shall have to try very hard to be a suitable wife for him; he knows this, but he wants to marry me all the same. He loves his parents ... though not as he loves me, but, because beside his love for me his love for them is insignificant, he would try to hide that and be doubly eager that they should not be hurt. So he gave this promise, much as it grieved him to give it. Do you understand. Father?”

He nodded.

"My child, I hope that you will be very, very happy; that you will know a happiness which was denied to me and to your mother.”

Her eyes filled with tears of pity. She could understand their agony now that she knew what it was to love. To be separated for three months from a loved one was sad, but to be separated for years... that was torture. Impulsively she took his hands -his tortured hands and covered them with kisses.

"My sweet Carolan," he said.

"My sweet daughter." He tapped the pocket containing the letter.

"I will dispatch this immediately. Carolan, did you beg him to come... at once ?”

She shook her head.

"He has given his promise, Father. I could not ask him to break it.”

He said: "My daughter, life can be cruel; delay is dangerous. You know in a small measure what happened to me and to your mother. I could not bear that you should lose your happiness. Love is all; what is a paltry promise compared with the love of two young people! Take the letter. Add a sentence. Say "Come to me without delay! I need you!”

Say that. Carolan.”

There was almost a command in his burning eyes. She broke open the letter, and wrote at the end of it: "Everard, please, please come for me ... at once. Don't wait, Everard, please." And there was a frantic appeal in those words, for the burning eyes of her father frightened her.

She re-sealed the letter and handed it back to bun.

"He will come," he said confidently.

"He would not be able to stay away from you..." He went on: "Carolan, what shall you do today?”

"I shall find plenty to do. Remember I have never set foot in London before, and from what I have seen I find it most exciting-' "Do not go out, my child. Wait; I shall show you London. But do not go out unaccompanied. It is unfortunate that today I have urgent business, but that will not always be so. I shall take you to Ranelagh, my child. I will take you to hear the talk in the coffee-houses. We shall sit by the river and watch the barges go by. We shall go to the playhouse.”

"I think I am going to enjoy my stay in London, Father.”

"I intend that you shall, child. But for today, promise me this -stay in. The neighbourhood, as you have gathered, is not one in which a gentlewoman should walk alone nor, my dear, are many places in this big city. But give me your word that you will not venture out until I can accompany you.”

"Of course I give my word.”

"Why do you smile?”

"Because it is so good to have an anxious parent. No one bothered whether I went out or stayed in before.”

"London is different from the country.”

"Still, nobody ever cared before.”

"Millie will be here at nine, Carolan.”

"Millie?”

"Our little maid.”

"Ah! I wondered how the work was done. I could not quite imagine Mamma...”

They smiled together.

"No," he said, "I should not care for your mother to soil her hands. So there is Millie.”

"She does not live here?”

"No, she lives at the end of the street. She comes in at nine o'clock and goes at four. We like it better that she should not spend the night here; we prefer to be alone. She is a little simple, poor Millie.”

"I see.”

"She will be here soon, and will open the shop.”

"But can she deal with customers?”

"There are few customers.”

She looked at him anxiously. That would account for the worry lines about his brow. He was finding it a terrible struggle to make ends meet. And no wonder! Not only was the shop in the wrong neighbourhood, but there was no one to attend to customers when he had to go out no one but a girl who was 'simple'. How could he hope for a prosperous business!

He saw her thoughts and patted her hands.

"Do not frown, little daughter. I am doing very well; this is a fine business, and very soon I shall retire. It will be to a house in the country, a house which my daughter and her husband ... and their children... will not be ashamed to visit.”

"Your daughter and her husband and their children would not be ashamed to visit you here," retorted Carolan.

"I know. I know. But you wait, Carolan, and see the fine house in the country I shall have!”

"I am glad the business is prosperous, Father.”

"You need not worry your head about us, Carolan. Well, when Millie comes, the shop will be opened. You and your mother need not think about it. Listen! I think that is Millie's step; I will go and let her in.”

Millie was a sandy-haired girl of about Carolan's age. She had a pale face and closely set eyes; her skin was pock-marked, her mouth perpetually open; she seemed vacant.

"Millie," said Darrell, 'this is Miss Carolan, my daughter.”

Millie nodded, without looking at Carolan.

"And now," said Darrell, "I must be going. Carolan, do not forget what I have said about going out alone.”

"I promise. I shall wait for you to accompany me. Father.”

She kissed him and went to the door of the shop with him. She stood there watching him; as he turned the corner he waved. Carolan went back into the shop. Millie had taken down the shutters now. but it was still gloomy. Strange, thought Carolan, if her father was doing such a prosperous business here. But when he had said that, he had not met her eyes; she had a feeling that things were not as glorious as he would have her believe. When she married Everard they would have her father and mother to live with them; of perhaps they would give them a little cottage close by. Her father would be happy enough with a little garden in which to grow flowers and vegetables, she was sure.

But in the meantime she would make things a little more Comfortable for them here. She went into the kitchen, where Millie was bending over the sink.

"Let us have a real clean-up today," she said.

"This place is very dirty." a Millie merely pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes by way of reply.

"Do you not think so?" demanded Carolan, a little irritated.

'dunno." said Millie.

"Well," said Carolan tartly, 'you can take it from me that it is! Those shelves are full of dust; the floor needs washing. When did you last wash it?”

"I dunno," said Millie.

"Forget.”

Enthusiasm burned in Carolan's eyes; she was a crusader; she was going to make this home of her parents fit to live in. They were like children, both of them; and Millie was worse than hopeless. Very slowly the girl was washing the breakfast dishes. There was nothing domesticated about Carolan; that had been Margaret's forte. How she longed for Margaret's advice now! She imagined Margaret's dainty nose wrinkling up at the sight of this kitchen. The kitchen should be made so that even Margaret would approve!

"Good gracious!" she said.

"Do you take all the morning to wash a few dishes? Then it is no wonder that this place is so dirty.”