I followed Ayesha into the house and up the great staircase, hoping that we should not meet Lady Harriet on the way.

Through the long passages we went and came to the door of that room in which I had found the peacock-feather fan. It was still in its place.

Miss Lucille was standing by the window. She was in a dressing gown, her feet in slippers.

"I have her here for you," said Ayesha.

"Welcome, my dear," said Miss Lucille. "How happy I am to see you here. It is a long time since we met face to face. But I have seen you." She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the window. "Come and talk with me."

"Sit down here," said Ayesha, settling Miss Lucille in her chair and drawing up another for me.

"Tell me, my dear," said Miss Lucille. "Life has not been good ... ?"

I hesitated. I was not sure. Had it been good? In parts, perhaps.

"Much has happened that is not good?" she persisted.

I nodded slowly. All that trouble with Lavinia ... the ordeal with the police ... the sadness of Janine ... the tragedy of Miriam ... the disappointment with Dougal ... the encounters with Fabian.

"You should never have had it in your possession," she went on. "There is the toll ..."

I realized she was talking about the peacock fan.

"Do you ever think of it?" she asked. "The beauty of those feathers. Do you remember the jewel ... the good and the evil ... ? So beautiful ... but beauty can be evil."

Ayesha was standing by the chair watching her mistress closely. She was frowning a little and I believed that meant she was anxious.

Miss Lucille half closed her eyes and began to tell me the story of her lover, as she had told me once before, and as she spoke the tears began to run down her cheeks.

"It was the fan ... If only we had not gone into the bazaar that day. If only he had not bought it for me ... if only he had not taken it to the jeweller ... how different everything would have been! And you, my child, you should never have let it cast its spell on you."

"I don't think it cast a spell on me. I only borrowed it for a little while."

"It did. I know. I felt the weight lifted from me."

She closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep.

I looked questioningly at Ayesha, who lifted her shoulders. "That is how she is," she whispered. "She wanted so much to see you and when you come she forgets what she wanted to say to you. She is content now. She has seen you. She talks of you now and then. She is concerned for you. She makes me tell her about your life at the rectory. She is concerned because your father is so ill."

"I wonder she remembers me."

"It is because she likes you and because of the fan. She is obsessed by the fan."

"Why does she attach such importance to it?"

"She sees it as the source of trouble."

"I am surprised she does not get rid of it."

She shook her head. "No. She believes she cannot do that. It would not get rid of the curse, she says. That goes on forever."

"But if she believes ..."

"It's an old superstition, and because of what happened after she had the fan, she believes it was because of it that she lost her lover. It has taken possession of her."

"It is very sad. I think I should go now. Lady Harriet would not be pleased to find me here."

"Lady Harriet has gone to London. She is very happy. Her son is coming home ... for a brief visit. There is some business to which he must attend. It is to be a short stay, but she is delighted that she will see him ... if only for a little while."

I felt my heart leap and I was alive again. A brief visit! I wondered if I should see him.

"There will be much entertaining. There will be some grand people here. Invitations go out. It is not good for Miss Lucille. She is always restive when there are people in the house."

I was wondering if his stay in India had changed him.

"I think I should go now," I said.

Ayesha glanced at Miss Lucille. "Yes," she said. "It is a deep sleep now. She sleeps most of the time."

"I have to read to my father. He will be expecting me."

"Yes," she said. "Come. I will take you out."

She led me out through the hall and I went quickly home.

I had almost forgotten the visit and the strangeness of Miss Lucille ... because Fabian was coming home.

That night my father took a turn for the worse. He had. had a stroke which left him slightly paralysed and unable to speak clearly. The doctor told us it could not be many weeks before the end.

I was with him most of the time and I could see death coming closer and closer.

Polly wrote. If anything happened I should come to her immediately. We'd talk. There would be a lot to say. I wasn't to rush into anything. Polly was the only one who seemed to think that marriage with Colin Brady was not the most desirable thing that could happen to me.

Fabian arrived at Framling the day my father died. I heard from Mrs. Janson that he was home. I was with my father at the end. He held my hand and I could see that he was at peace.

Colin Brady was very good. He took charge with sympathy and efficiency and if he thought he was a step nearer to his goal he did not show it.

Lady Harriet was displeased that the rector should die just as she was preparing for her son's return. Immersed as she was in parish affairs, the event was, to say the least, inconvenient. I imagined her mentioning the fact somewhat reproachfully in her prayers. There should have been a little more consideration from On High towards one who had always unflinchingly done her duty.

I heard from Mrs. Janson that she had been planning important festivities ever since she had heard that her son was coming home.  Lady Geraldine Fitzbrock, with her parents, was coming to stay at Framling and it was an important visit. The Fitzbrocks were of lineage as impeccable as Lady Harriet herself and it was quite clear that she had settled on Geraldine Fitzbrock for Sir Fabian.

I wondered about him now and then, but mostly my thoughts were preoccupied with the past. There was so much in the house to remind me of my father. It seemed oddly quiet, and alien almost, now that he was lying in his coffin behind the drawn blinds of the sitting room. Everywhere there was something to bring back memories ... his study with the book-lined walls; volumes with bookmarks in his favourite places. I kept thinking of his hunting for his spectacles when he wanted to remind himself of a particularly beloved passage ... living in another age, halfheartedly trying to tear himself away from it and come back to the affairs of his parish.

I should have been prepared. I could see his furrowed brow when he contemplated me. He had been deeply concerned about my future—as I supposed I should be. In his unworldly heart he had believed I would marry Dougal. How he would have welcomed him as his son-in-law, visualizing long visits when they would delve into the past together. Dougal had been a young man not greatly endowed with worldly goods at that time—a scholar, a man of great gentleness, lacking ambition, a man made in my father's own mould.

Looking back, I realized how disappointed he must have been when it had not turned out as he wished. Not only had he been deprived of a son-in-law whom he would have welcomed, but there was the problem of his daughter's future, which had become an anxiety. Then he had hoped I would marry Colin Brady. That would have been a very sensible conclusion. Colin Brady, true, would have been second best, but very acceptable all the same.

People were thinking that I should take what I could get. Opportunity came rarely in life and when it did must not be lightly turned aside. Lady Harriet had implied that I was foolish. I daresay I was. It was not that I disliked Colin Brady. No one could, really. He was so kind and considerate to all. He would be the perfect priest. But somehow at the back of my mind was the feeling that if I did "the sensible thing" I would regret it, for I would be choosing a way of life that would be so predictable, it would rob me of all the excitement that made up the savour of living.

If I had never known Dougal ... if I had been a more conventional person ... perhaps I should have married Colin. But I was myself; and instinctively I rebelled against the suggestion of marriage in such circumstances.

Fabian came over to the rectory to see me. He looked really concerned. "I am so sorry," he said.

"Thank you. It was not unexpected."

"No. But a shock nevertheless."

"It was good of you to call."

"But of course I called."

"I hope your stay in India was successful."

He lifted his shoulders.

"And shall you be here long?" I went on.

"No. Briefly. Very briefly."

"I see."

"And you will be making ... plans?"

"I shall have to."

"I am sure you will. If there is anything we can do up at Framling ..."

"Nothing, thank you. Mr. Brady is a great help."

"I was sure he would be. I hear the funeral is tomorrow. I shall be there."

"Thank you."

He smiled at me and soon after left.

I was glad when he went. I did not want him to see how emotional I was. I almost wished that he had not come to see me.

The church was full when my father was buried.

Lady Harriet and Sir Fabian were in the Framling pew. I could think of nothing but my father, and I kept going over all the little things I remembered of him. A feeling of desolation swept over me. I had never felt so lonely in my life.