It was a moment of uneasiness. Life was not moving as I wanted it. I could not bear to lose Mellyora; she was part of my life; every time we were together I was aware of the change in our positions and compared the past with the present. I could not help but feel satisfaction in Mellyora's presence, yet at the same time I deplored her unhappiness. I was not all bad up to that time.

"Something will happen to stop this," I said, clenching my fists.

Something would happen. I was sure of my power to control our fates.

Mellyora shook her head. Heartbroken, she was passively accepting hers.

Carlyon came in with Doll who had taken him to the end of the lane to see the cavalcade. His eyes were brilliant, his cheeks scarlet. I could never look at him without marveling at his beauty.

"Mamma," he said, running to me and throwing his arms about my knees, "I have seen the lions."

I picked him up and laid my cheek against his. I thought: What does anything matter while I have him?

But all was not well with him; he withdrew himself slightly to peer anxiously into my face.

"Mamma," he said, "I saw a nellyphant. Two nellyphants."

"That was lovely, my darling."

He shook his head.

I understood when I took him to the nursery. He went straight to his toy and knelt down beside it; he put a cautious finger on the black boot buttons. He said: "You ve got your eyes on, Nelly."

He gave the toy a little push and it rolled across the floor until it reached the wall. Then he turned to me and the tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Nelly's not a real live nellyphant," he sobbed.

Mellyora had written asking for an interview. I was certain that if she went she would get the post, for her prospective employer would pay her less than was usual and congratulate herself on having acquired a parson's daughter.

The servants seemed absent-minded; I could hear them continually whispering and giggling together. Even Mrs. Salt and her daughter seemed excited. The circus brought strangers to the place and perhaps there was an added thrill for them in case the terrible Mr. Salt might be among them. Haggety would accompany Mrs. Rolt, Doll would go with Tom Pengaster and perhaps they would let Daisy go with them. Lunch was to be served half an hour earlier so that they could clear up and get away in good time.

Johnny had gone to Plymouth, as he said, on estate duty. Justin rode off alone immediately after luncheon. I always spent a part of the afternoon with Carlyon so Mellyora had a few hours of freedom; and when I saw her come downstairs in her riding habit that afternoon, I guessed that she was meeting Justin.

They were very sad, both of them, because there would not be many more occasions when they could be together.

"Mellyora," I said, "I hope Justin will persuade you not to go."

She flushed and in those moments looked very lovely. "He knows, as well as I do," she answered, "that this is the only way."

She pressed her lips firmly together as though she feared the suppressed sobs would escape while she hurried past me.

I went straight up to the nursery where I found Carlyon talking about the animals. I had told the servants not to mention to him that they were going to the circus because I knew that he would then want to go too and I was afraid of the circus, afraid that he might be harmed in some way. So many unclean people who might give him some disease; he might be lost; I could picture a hundred mishaps. Perhaps next year, I'll take him myself, I thought.

We went out to the rose garden where old Lady St. Larnston was sitting in a wheel chair; she had been suffering from rheumatism in the last months and used the chair a good deal. The last year or so had brought great changes in this house. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Carlyon and he went straight to her and stood on tiptoe as she bent creakily forward to receive his kiss.

I sat on the wooden seat near her chair while Carlyon sprawled out on the grass absorbed in the progress of an ant which was climbing a blade of grass.

While he played, my mother-in-law and I talked desultorily.

"This wretched circus." She sighed. "It has been the same for years. My hot water was five minutes late this morning and my tea was cold. I told Mrs. Rolt and she said: It's the circus, my lady.' I remember when I was first married ..."

Her voice trailed off as it often did when she started some reminiscence and she would be silent while she relived the past in her thoughts. I wondered whether her mind was beginning to fail as her body was.

"It's one of the great days in their lives," I remarked.

"The empty house ...the servants ... quite impossible." Her voice quavered.

"Fortunately it only happens once a year."

"Everyone gone ... just everyone... . Not a servant in the house. If anyone should call... ."

"No one will. Everyone knows it is the day of the circus."

"Kerensa, my dear ... Judith... ."

"She's resting."

Resting! That significant word. We used it when we meant to imply that Judith was not quite presentable. When visitors called we would say: "She is a little indisposed. She is resting."

Her condition had improved since the departure of Fanny. It was true that she was drinking less; but there was a continual craving which seemed to be turning to a madness. When her mother went out onto the moors and danced by moonlight was it because she was drunk? Was it, as Jane Carwillen had said, that drink was the monster that haunted the Derrise family?

We were silent, each occupied with our separate thoughts; and suddenly I noticed that Carlyon was stretched out on the grass, his little body shaking with sobs.

I went over to him at once and picked him up. "What is it, my darling?" I asked.

He clung to me and it was some time before he could speak.

"It's Nelly," he said. "I was a wicked one."

I smoothed the thick hair back from his forehead and murmured endearments; but I couldn't comfort him.

"I didn't like her any more because she wasn t a true nellyphant."

"And you like her again?"

"She's Nelly," he said.

"Well, she'll be happy now you like her again," I soothed.

"She's gone."

"Gone?"

He nodded.

"Where?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"But, darling, if she's gone away you must know where."

"I looked and looked. She's gone because I told her she wasn't a true nellyphant."

"She's in the nursery waiting for you."

He shook his head. "I looked."

"And she wasn't there?"

"She's gone right away. I didn't like her any more. I said she wasn't a true nellyphant."

"Well," I said, "she isn't."

"But she's crying. I said I don't want her any more. I wanted a true nellyphant."

"And now do you want her?"

"She's my Nelly, even though she's not a true nellyphant. I want Nelly to come back and she's gone."

I rocked him in my arms. Bless his tender heart! I thought. He believes he has hurt poor Nelly and wants to comfort her.

"I'll go and find her," I told him. "You stay here with Grandmamma. Perhaps she'll let you count her carnelians."

One of his greatest pleasures was examining the stone necklace which my mother-in-law invariably wore during the day; it was composed of carnelian stones of golden brown, rather roughly hewn. Carlyon had always been fascinated by them.

He brightened at the prospect and I put him on my mother-in-law's lap; she smiled for the counting of the carnelians was, I believed, as great a pleasure for her as for him. She would tell him about the necklace and how her husband had given it to her and how his mother had given it to him for his bride; it was a St. Larnston necklace and the stones themselves had been found in Cornwall.

I left Carlyon considerably comforted, listening to his Grandmother's sleepy voice recounting the history as she had many times before, he watching the movement of her lips, telling her when she used a word which had not been in the previous tellings.

As soon as I entered the Abbas, I tell myself now, I felt an odd foreboding. But perhaps I imagined that afterwards. Yet I was very susceptible to what I called the moods of the house. The house was a living thing to me; I had always felt my destiny was v\n:apped up in it. It certainly was that afternoon.

Such a silence. All the household away. It was rare that there were not some servants present. But this was the special day of the year when it was agreed that all should be absent.

Only Judith would be lying in her room, her hair tousled, her face already bearing that misshapen vague look of the dipsomaniac, the eyes a little wild and bloodshot. I shivered, although it was a warm afternoon.

I longed to be out in the rose garden with my son. I smiled thinking of him sitting on Lady St. Larnston's lap, his eyes close to the carnelian stones, perhaps tracing the streaks in them with a plump finger.

My darling child! I would die for him. Then I laughed at the sentiment. Of what use would I be to him, dead? He needed me to plan for him, to give him the life of which he was worthy. Did I sense in him already a softness, a sentimentality which might let his heart rule his head.

How happy he would be when I put his toy elephant into his arms. Together we would explain that he loved her still, and the fact that she was not a true elephant was unimportant.

I went along first to the nursery, but the toy was not there. I had seen him with it that morning. I smiled, remembering how he had dragged it along in a dejected sort of way. Poor Nelly! She was in disgrace. When had I seen him? It was when Mellyora had brought him to my room on their way out. They had gone together along the corridor and down by the main staircase.