This meant that I was gradually becoming mistress of the house, a fact which the servants realized and only occasionally did I see an expression flicker over one of their faces which told me they were remembering that time when I had been one of them.

Judith did not stand in my way at all. She would sometimes spend days in her room with no one but her maid—"that Fanny from over Derrise," as the servants called her.

Granny was not as well as I should have liked but I was not worried about her as I had once been. It was my plan to set her up in a little house of her own near the Abbas, with a servant to look after her. It was a subject I had not yet broached with her for I knew that, at the moment, it would not be well received.

Joe was engaged to Essie Pollent and Mr. Pollent was to make him a partner on the day of the marriage. I felt piqued by Granny's glee in this state of affairs. She said: "Both of my little 'uns have done well for themselves." I did not see how Joe's rise could be compared with mine; and I still felt a nagging irritation that he was not studying to be a doctor.

My desire for other children had not yet been satisfied, but Granny had assured me that it was normal enough to have a gap of two or three years, and better for my health too. I had all my life before me. So I was content enough. I had the perfect son; and with each passing month, I became more and more sure that Judith would never bear a child. Thus Carlyon would inherit the title and the Abbas, and I would one day be the grand old lady of the Abbas.

That was the state of affairs that morning when I joined Mellyora and Carlyon in the rose garden.

I sat down by Mellyora and for a few seconds gave myself up to contemplating my son. He had been immediately aware of my coming into the rose garden and stood still to wave to me; then he trotted after his hoop, picked it up, sent it bowling, and glanced at me to see if I was watching. This was another of those moments which I should have liked to capture and preserve forever; moments of pure happiness, and when one grows older one learns that happiness—complete and unadulterated happiness-comes only in moments, and must be recognized and savored to the full, for even in the happiest life, the complete joy is not always present.

I saw then that Mellyora was uneasy and immediately the moment was passed, for joy had become tinged with apprehension.

"Something is on your mind?" I asked.

She was thoughtful; then she said; "It's Judith, Kerensa."

Judith! Of course it was Judith. Judith was the cloud which hid the sun. Judith stood across her path like a colossus preventing her passage along the river to love and contentment.

I nodded.

"You know she is drinking far too much."

"I know she has a fondness for the bottle, but I believe Justin is aware of this and won't let her drink to excess."

"She is drinking too much in spite of ... Justin."

Even the way in which she said his name was a revelation. The little pause; the hushed reverence. Oh, Mellyora, I thought, you betray yourself in a hundred ways.

"Yes?" I said.

"I was passing her room yesterday; the door was open and I heard her ... groaning, so I thought. I went in. She was lying across the bed in a drunken stupor. It was awful, Kerensa. She didn't recognize me. She was lying there with a dazed look in her eyes, groaning and mumbling. I couldn't hear what she said. I was so worried I went along to find Fanny, Fanny was in her room ... the room you used to have. She was Iong on the bed and she didn't get up when I went in. I said to her: I think Lady St. Larnston needs you. She seems ill." And she lay there looking at me in a horrid, sneering sort of way. Is that so. Miss Martin?' she said. I went on: I heard her moaning and I went in to see. Pray go and do something for her.' She laughed. "Her ladyship's all right, Miss Martin," she said. Then: I didn't know it was her ladyship you were interested in." It was horrible. It's a great pity that woman ever came here. I was so angry, Kerensa... ."

I glanced at Mellyora, remembering how she had fought for me when she had brought me to the parsonage from Trelinket. Mellyora could fight when the need arose. She would fight now. Any slur on the relationship between her and Justin was a slur on Justin. That was how she would see it. I knew there had been no consummation of this love between her and Justin, that there never would be while Judith was alive to stand between them.

Mellyora went on: "I said to her You are insolent." And she lay there laughing at me. You give yourself airs. Miss Martin,' she said. You might be your ladyship by the way you act. But you ain't that... not by a long chalk you ain't." I had to stop her because I was afraid she was going to say something dreadful, something which I wouldn't be able to ignore, so I said quickly: 'Someone is supplying Lady St. Larnston with whiskey and I believe it is you.' She jeered again and as she did so, her eyes went to the cupboard. I went over and opened it and I saw them ... bottles and bottles ... some full, some empty. She is getting them for Judith when ... Justin has tried to stop her drinking."

"What can you do about it, Mellyora?"

"I don't know. It worried me."

"These sneers about you and Justin make me more anxious than Judith's drinking."

"We are innocent," she said proudly, "and the innocent have nothing to fear."

I did not answer and she turned to me fiercely. "You do not believe me!' she accused.

"I believe what you tell me always, Mellyora. I was thinking of your words: "The innocent have nothing to fear.' I was wondering how true they were."

The next day Johnny went to Plymouth on the family business. It was strange how he had seemed to have become respectable since our marriage; I could believe that in twenty years' time he would have lived down his reputation. Life was extraordinary. Justin, who had made the marriage his parents had chosen for him, was losing his reputation, for there was no doubt that the main interest in the servants' hall was now the affair of Justin, Judith, and Mellyora. Johnny, who had disgraced the family by marrying the servant, was proving himself to have chosen wisely. It was indeed an ironic turn of events.

I wondered whether Johnny was unfaithful to me. I didn't greatly care. My position was assured. I had had all I wanted from Johnny.

When he returned he brought with him the elephant. It was made of gray cloth and there were wheels on its feet so that it could be pulled along. I have seen bigger and better elephants since, but at the time it seemed magnificent. It stood about twelve inches from the ground; it had two boot buttons for eyes, a magnificent trunk, a correspondingly grand tail, and a pair of soft ears. About its neck was a thin red leather band and to this was attached a red cord.

Johnny came into the nursery calling for Carlyon. Solemnly our son undid the wrappings about the box which seemed as big as himself; his little hands pulled at the tissue-paper wrapping and there, revealed in all its glory, was the elephant.

Carlyon stared at it, touched the gray cloth, put his finger on the boot-button eyes.

Then he looked from me to Johnny.

"It's an elephant, darling," I said.

"Nellyphant," he repeated, wondering.

Johnny took it out of its box and put the string into our son's hand. He showed him how to pull it along. Silently Carlyon pulled the toy round the room; then he knelt down and put his arms about its neck.

"Nellyphant," he whispered wonderingly. "My Nellyphant."

I was conscious of a momentary jealousy because Johnny had given him something that he liked so much. I wanted always to be first in his affections. It was a trait I deplored, but I couldn't help it.

Carlyon loved his elephant. The toy stood by his bed at night; he pulled it along wherever he went. He continued to call it his Nellyphant and it was natural that this was shortened to Nelly. He talked to Nelly; he sang to Nelly; it was a joy to see his delight in the thing.

My only regret was that it had not been my gift.

There were disturbing undercurrents at the Abbas that summer. The situation had worsened since the coming of Fanny who was not only supplying Judith with drink but was working on her suspicions. She hated Mellyora and between them, she and Judith were trying to make Mellyora's position at the Abbas intolerable.

Mellyora did not tell me of all the insults she had to endure, but there were occasions when she was so upset that she could not keep them to herself.

I had never liked Justin because I knew he had never liked me. He believed I had tricked Johnny into marrying me and he was too much of a patrician to accept me willingly into the family; while he was always coolly polite he never showed the least friendliness towards me, and I was inclined to think that he did not entirely approve of Mellyora's friendship with me.

For him I had little sympathy; but I loved Mellyora and I did not want to see her humiliated. Moreover, she loved Carlyon and he was fond of her; she was an excellent nurse and would be a good governess for him. I think really what I wanted was for things to go on as they were, with myself virtually mistress of the Abbas; Mellyora in a position which she owed to me and which put her in continual need of my protection; Justin, melancholy, in love with a woman who was forbidden to him, the victim of a loveless marriage; Johnny my husband fascinated by me still, realizing that there was a great deal about me which he did not understand, admiring me more than any woman he had ever known; myself powerful, in possession of the strings which jerked my puppets.