I was silent until we came to Mount Mellyn.

Connan TreMellyn was coming from the stable.

” Hallo there, Con!” cried Peter Nansellock.

Connan TreMellyn looked at us in mild surprise, which I supposed was due to the fact that we were together. I hurried round to the back of the house.

It was not easy to sleep that night. The events of the day crowded into my mind and I saw pictures of myself and Connan TreMellyn, pictures of Alvean, of Celestine, and of myself in the woods with Peter Nansellock.

The wind was in a certain direction that night, and I could hear the waves thundering into Mellyn Cove.

In my present mood it certainly seemed that there were whispering voices down there, and that the words they said to each other were: ” Alice! Alice! Where is Alice? Alice, where are you?”

In the morning the fancies of the previous. night seemed foolish. I asked myself why so many people—including myself—wanted to make a mystery of what had happened in this house. It was an ordinary enough story.

I know what it is, I told myself. When people consider an ancient house like this, they make themselves believe it could tell some fantastic stories if it could only speak. They think of the generations who have lived and suffered within these walls, and they grow fanciful. So that when the mistress of the house is tragically killed they imagine her ghost still walks and that, although she is dead, she is still here. Well, I am a sensible woman, I hope. Alice was killed on a train, and that was the end of Alice.

I laughed at my folly in allowing myself to be caught up in such notions. Had not Daisy or Kitty explained that the whispering voices, which I heard in the night, were merely the sound of waves thundering in the cove below?

From now on I was entertaining no more such fantastic thoughts.

My room was filled with sunshine and I felt differently from the way I had felt on any other morning. I was exhilarated. I knew why. It was due to that man, Connan TreMellyn. Not that I liked him—quite in reverse; but it was as though he had issued a challenge. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to make of Alvean not only a model pupil but a charming, unaffected, uninhibited little girl.

I felt so pleased that I began to hum softly under my breath.

Come into the Garden, Maud. , . That was a song Father used to like to play while Phillida sang, for in addition to her other qualities.

Phillida possessed a charming voice. Then I passed to Sweet and Low, and I for a moment forgot the house I was in and saw Father at the piano, his glasses slipping down his nose, his slippered feet making the most of the pedals.

I was almost astonished to find that I had unconsciously slipped into the song I had heard Gilly singing in the woods :

Alice, where art thou-Oh no, not that, I said sharply to myself.

I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and I went to the window to look out. No one was visible. The lawns looked fresh and lovely with the early morning dew on them. What a beautiful sight, I thought; the palm trees gave the scene a tropical look and it was one of those mornings when there was every promise of a beautiful day.

” One of the last we can expect this summer, I daresay,” I said aloud; and I threw open my window and leaned out, my thick coppery plaits, the ends tied with pieces of blue ribbon for bedtime, swinging out with me.

I went back to Sweet and Low and was humming this when Connan TreMellyn emerged from the stables. He saw me before I was able to draw back, and I felt myself grow scarlet with embarrassment to be seen with my hair down and in my nightgown thus.

He called jauntily : ” Good morning, Miss Leigh.”

In that moment I said to myself: So it was his horse I heard. And has he been riding in the early morning, or out all night? I imagined his visiting one of the gay ladies of the neighbour y hood if such existed. That was my opinion of him. I was angry that he should be the one to show no embarrassment whatsoever while I was blushing certainly in every part that was visible.

” Good morning,” I said, and my voice sounded curt.

He was coming swiftly across the lawn, hoping, I was sure, to embarrass me further by a closer look at me in my night attire.

” A beautiful morning,” he cried.

” Extremely so,” I answered.

I withdrew into my room as I heard him shout: ” Hallo, Alvean! So you’re up too.”

I was standing well back from the window now and I heard Alvean cry: ” Hallo, Papa!” and her voice was soft and gentle with that wistful note which I had detected when she spoke of him on the previous day. I knew that she was delighted to have seen him, that she had been awake in her room when she had heard his voice, and had dashed to her window, and that it would make her extremely happy if he stopped awhile and chatted with her.

He did no such thing. He went into the house. Standing before my mirror, I looked at myself. Most unbecoming, I thought. And quite undignified. Myself in a pink flannelette nightdress buttoned high at the throat, with my hair down and my face even now the colour of flannelette!

I put on my dressing gown and on impulse crossed the schoolroom to Alvean’s room. I opened the door and went in. She was sitting astride a chair and talking to herself.

” There’s nothing to be afraid of really. All you have to do is hold tight and not be afraid … and you won’t fall off.”

She was so intent on what she was doing that she had not heard the door open, and I stood for a few seconds watching her, for she had her back to the schoolroom door.

I learnt a great deal in that moment. He was a great horse man, this father of hers; he wanted his daughter to be a good horsewoman, but Alvean, who desperately wanted to win his approval, was afraid of horses.

I started forward, my first impulse to talk to her, to tell her that I would teach her to ride. It was one thing I could do really well because we had always had horses in the country, and at five Phillida and I were competing in local shows.

But I hesitated because I was beginning to understand Alvean. She was an unhappy child. Tragedy had hit her in more ways than one. She had lost her mother, and that was the biggest tragedy which could befall any child; but when her father did not seem anything but indifferent to her, and she adored him, that was a double tragedy.

I quietly shut the door and went back to my room. I looked at the sunshine on the carpet and my elation returned. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to fight Connan TreMellyn, if he wanted it that way. I was going to make him proud of his daughter; I was going to force him to give her that attention which was her right and which none but a brute would deny her.

Lessons were trying that morning. Alvean was late for them, having breakfasted with her father in accordance with the custom of the family. I pictured them at the big table in the room which I had discovered was used as a dining room when there were no guests. They called it the small dining room, but it was only small by Mount Mellyn standards.

He would be reading the paper, or looking through his letters, I imagined; Alvean would be at the other end of the table hoping for a word, which of course he would be too selfish to bestow.

I had to send for her to come to lessons; and that she deeply resented.

I tried to make lessons as interesting as I could, and I must have succeeded, for in spite of her resentment towards me she could not hide her interest in the history and geography lessons which I set for that morning.

She took luncheon with her father while I ate alone in the schoolroom, and after that I decided to approach Connan TreMellyn.

While I was wondering where I could find him I saw him leave the house and go across to the stables. I immediately followed him and, when I arrived at the stables, I heard him giving orders to Billy Trehay to saddle Royal Russet for him.

He looked surprised to see me; and then he smiled and I was sure that he was remembering the last time he had seen me in dishabille.

” Why,” he said, ” it is Miss Leigh.”

” I had hoped to have a few words with you,” I said primly. ” Perhaps this is an inconvenient time.”

” That depends,” he said, ” on how many words you wish us to exchange.” He took out his watch and looked at it. ” I can give you five minutes, Miss Leigh.”

I was aware of Billy Trehay, and if Connan TreMellyn was going to snub me I was eager that no servant should overhear.

Connan TreMellyn said: ” Let us walk across the lawn. Ready in five minutes, Billy?”

” Very good, Master,” answered Billy.

With that Connan TreMellyn began to walk away from the stables, and I fell into step beside him.

” In my youth,” I said, ” I was constantly in the saddle. I believe Alvean wishes to learn to ride. I am asking your permission to teach her.”

” You have my permission to try, Miss Leigh,” he said.

” You sound as though you doubt my ability to succeed.”

” I fear I do.”

” I don’t understand why you should doubt my ability to teach when you have not tested my skill.”

” Oh, Miss Leigh,” he said almost mockingly, ” you wrong me. It is not your ability to teach that I doubt; it is Alvean’s to learn.”

” You mean others have failed to teach her?”

” I have failed.”

” But surely ” He lifted a hand. ” It is strange,” he said, ” to find such fear in a child. Most children take to it like breathing.”

His tone was clipped, his expression hard; I wanted to shout at him: