Wenna sat down at the table. She said: "Didn't Mamazel get her tray then?"

Melisande herself spoke. "I asked that I might come here. We have had a pleasant time. It is more pleasant to be with others than to eat alone. I am not one to find the great enjoyment in my own company, you understand? I like to hear the talk and the laughter ... to know what is going on. It is a great enlightenment."

Wenna said: "None of the governesses did ever come down to eat in the servants' hall. That be right, Mrs. Soady, as you do know."

" 'Tis so," agreed Mrs. Soady. "But we did think it terrible friendly like, and Mamazel being such a foreigner, we didn't take aught amiss."

Melisande felt a wave of fear sweep over her as she looked at Wenna. Wenna was the skeleton at the feast. Wenna disliked her. Wenna would tell Caroline that she had found her here, and that it was most unladylike for a companion to sit in the servants' hall. Then it might be that Caroline would seize that excuse for getting rid of her. A companion must be ladylike. That was very necessary.

There was one thing which could make Caroline happy. If she were happy she would not seek to make trouble for all about her. If she could be sure that Fermor loved her she would be completely happy. A love potion was necessary for Caroline; but according to the servants, the gentry were denied these privileges because they did not entirely believe in them.

A love potion for Caroline, yes. But what of Wenna ? What did she need?

Melisande could not guess. All she knew was that Wenna filled her with alarm.

Wenna knocked at the door of the study. She knew that Sir Charles hated to be interrupted, and she knew that she would be the last person he wished to see, for he had no more affection for her than she had for him; but she did not care.

"Come in," he said.

He was sitting in his chair at the desk which was immediately before the window. From where he sat he could look over the park; he could see Melisande riding on her horse—the horse, as Wenna believed, which she had no right to ride. Did servants learn to ride ? Why should one be specially favoured ? Wenna had the answer. She saw that tolerance, that indulgence, which came into his eyes when they rested on her—a certain secret pleasure because the girl was living in his house; she was supposed to be a servant but she enjoyed far too many privileges to be considered so. And soon others besides Wenna would notice this.

"I had to speak to you, master," she said. " 'Tis getting beyond a joke. 'Tis this girl you've brought here as Miss Caroline's companion."

His eyes went suddenly colder and quite angry, but she stood her ground. She thought: Please God, Miss Caroline will be married and I'll go away with her. I'll stand between her and the wickedness of the man she's going to marry. There'll be dear little children and they'll be mine just as Miss Caroline were.

"Miss St. Martin?" he said.

" 'Twas her I spoke of, Sir Charles. I think you should know she's no fit companion for your own daughter, Miss Caroline."

"I don't believe that. Miss St. Martin is most suitable ... most."

"She goes down to the servants' hall and drinks with them. I went there last night and found them all well nigh tipsy ... and it was her doing. Nothing like it has ever been done before. She was egging them on. Drinking the health of the little Mamazel, they were."

A faint smile seemed to touch his lips, as though he were applauding her conduct, thinking how clever she was. The shame of it! thought Wenna. He has to bring the shame into his own house and think it right and proper!

"She has a very friendly nature. She has not been brought up in our English way. I doubt there was any harm in her taking a meal with the servants. She does not have any in the dining-room and probably feels lonely sometimes. She seems to be very popular ... not only with the servants. ... I think you must realize that as she is not entirely English ..."

"She'll be riding with Master Fermor and Miss Caroline one time of the day and drinking parsnip wine with the servants at another. It's wrong, master."

"You must understand that she has been brought up in a convent. There, I imagine, there were no servants. The nuns were servants and friends. Therefore she does not see distinctions as we do."

"I don't know nothing about that. All I know is that Miss Caroline shouldn't have to treat her ... like a sister."

The shaft went home. He looked uneasy. Now Wenna had no doubts. She felt like an avenging angel. He should pay for the unhappiness he had brought to her darling Miss Maud ... he should pay for the murder of Miss Maud—for murder it was. If he had been thinking of her getting a chill instead of what was written in foreign letters about this girl, Miss Maud would be here to-day.

The misery of her loss came back to her in all its bitter vividness.

How she hated him and his wickedness! She would not rest until that girl was out of the house. That she should be here was a slight to Miss Maud's memory. Perhaps he had deliberately let her get that chill so that he could bring the girl into the house and no questions be asked by those who had a right to ask them.

No sooner had that thought come to her than she was sure she had hit on the truth.

"I think," he said, after only the briefest pause, "that I am the best judge of what is right for my daughter."

For your daughters, you mean! she thought. Ah, that's what they are, both of them. One of them my dear Miss Maud's child, and the other the spawn of the whore of Babylon.

Oh, Miss Maud, may my right hand forget its cunning if ever I forget the wrong he has done you!

"I think that girl will bring trouble to the house," she said aloud. "I've got a feeling. It's the same sort of feeling I had before Miss Maud passed away. I just know. I've always known such things."

He softened a little, remembering her devotion to Maud. He could be softened by memories of Maud. He felt guilty because he had forgotten to take her the wrap, although he assured himself that that had nothing to do with her death. She had always been ailing and the doctors had been prophesying her death for years.

"Send her away, master," said Wenna. "Send her away before something happens ... something dreadful."

He was shaken by her intensity. Then he thought: She's a superstitious old woman. Are they not all superstitious in this part of the world? They are always imagining they are ill-wished, always dreaming that the Little People are at their elbows.

He said sharply: "You are talking nonsense, Wenna. Certainly I shall not send the girl away. Don't be so uncharitable. She is young and high-spirited. I am glad she is being taught to ride. She has given Mr. Holland French lessons. It is only fitting that he should reward her in his turn. You are prejudiced against her because Caroline spends so much time with her."

Wenna turned away muttering to herself.

"Wenna!" he said almost pleadingly. "Be kind to this girl. Do not resent her presence because you feel Caroline is growing fond of her. Remember that she would have a poor life if I sent her away from here."

Wenna replied: "I've said my say, master. It's something I feel within me."

Then she went out. She was thinking derisively: Caroline fond of her! Fond of her for trying to take Fermor away from her, as her mother took you from my Miss Maud! There shan't be another robbery like that one if I can stop it. And stop it I will. I'll see her dead first—your daughter though she may be, and the living proof of your sin and shame.

They had ridden into Liskeard. There were four of them: John Collings, son of the M.F.H. who had formed a friendship with Fermor, Fermor himself, Caroline and Melisande.

Caroline was angry. It was absurd, she was thinking, that they should have Melisande with them. Fermor had arranged that. There were two people at Trevenning who were determined, it seemed, to treat Melisande as a daughter of the house—her father and Fermor.

There sat Melisande on her horse—small and piquant. Sir Charles had given her the riding habit she was wearing. If she was to accompany Caroline she must be decently dressed, he had insisted. John Collings—as did so many people in the neighbourhood—thought Melisande was a poor relation, a distant connection of Sir Charles's. How could they think otherwise when the girl was treated as she was ? No ordinary companion would receive such privileges. It seemed wiser to let people believe this was the case. Fortunately, thought Caroline, as she was still in half-mourning for her mother, there were few social occasions. Caroline felt that otherwise Melisande might have received invitations which would have involved awkward explanations.

It was September and there was a mist in the air, which thickened as they climbed to high ground. It hung like diamond drops on the hedges giving a fresh bloom to the wild guelder roses and a velvet coat to the plums of the blackthorn. Spiders' webs were festooned over the bells of the wild fuchsias which flourished in the road-side hedges. The silence was only broken by the clop-clop of their horses' hoofs or the cries of the gulls, mournful as they always seemed on such days.

Caroline glanced over her shoulder at Melisande who always seemed to enjoy everything more than normal people did. Now she was revelling in the mist which the others would deplore.

They were riding two abreast and Fermor was beside Melisande, John Collings with Caroline. Caroline heard Fermor teasing Melisande, provoking that sudden joyous laugher.