I had seen everything turning out as I had planned it should. I was reconciled to Joe's lack of ambition; Granny had left her cottage and lived with the Pollents now. I knew that it was the most satisfactory arrangement and yet I was sad in a way because she must live with Joe instead of with me. Granny would never have fitted in at the Abbas with her potions and cures and her Cornish accent; but at the Pollents' she was very welcome. There was Joe working on his cures for animals and Granny continuing with her work. It fitted somehow. But it wasn't quite what I had wanted for her; and I often felt sad when I visited her there. When we talked together I knew that our relationship had not changed and I was as important to her—and she to me—as we had ever been.

Yes, indeed I had been too complacent; I must not remain any longer in ignorance of our financial position.

I put away my papers and shut the desk. I would go to the nursery to see Carlyon who could always soothe me. He was growing up fast and was advanced for his age. He was not a bit like Johnny, nor like me; I often marveled that we could have had such a child. He was already reading and Mellyora said that he had practically taught himself; his attempts at drawing seemed to me astonishing; and he had his own little pony because I had wanted him to ride at an early age. I never allowed him to ride without me—I wouldn't trust anyone else, not even Mellyora; and I myself would lead him round the meadow. He had a natural aptitude and was quickly at home in the saddle.

There was only one characteristic in him which I should have liked to change. He could be reduced to tears very quickly when he thought something was hurt. There had been one occasion more than a year earlier during the very hot weather when he had come in crying because there was a crack in the brown earth and he thought it was broken. "Poor, poor ground! Mend it. Mamma,'' he said, looking at me with tear-filled eyes as though he had thought me an omnipotent being. So it was with animals— a mouse in a trap, a dead hare he had seen hung in the kitchen, a cat who had been hurt in a fight. He suffered acutely because his heart was too tender and I often used to fear that when he grew older he would be too easily hurt.

On that morning I hurried along to the nursery, guessing that Mellyora would be getting him ready to take out and thinking that we would go together.

I could shelve all disturbing fears while I was with Carlyon. I threw open the nursery door. It was empty. When old Lady St. Larnston was alive I had had the nurseries redecorated and she and I had become very friendly while that operation was in progress. We had chosen the wallpaper together—a wonderful wallpaper, blue and white with the willow-pattern story repeated over and over again. Everything was blue and white; a white pattern on blue curtains, a blue carpet. The room was full of sunshine, but there was no sign of Carlyon or Mellyora.

"Where are you?" I called.

My eyes went to the window seat where propped up against the window was Nelly. I could never look at the thing without a shock. I had said to Carlyon: "This is a baby's toy. Do you want to keep it? Let's find some big boy's toys."

He had taken it firmly from me, his face puckered in grief; I believe he fancied that the thing could hear my words and be hurt.

"It's Nelly," he said, with dignity, and opening a cupboard door he put it inside as though he feared for its safety.

Now I picked it up. The torn cloth had been neatly mended by Mellyora. But it was visible like a scar. If she had known... .

This was an unpleasant morning because too much that should be forgotten was coming back to leer at me.

I put Nelly back on the window seat and opened the door into the adjoining room where Carlyon had his meals.

As I did so I came face to face with Mellyora.

"You've seen him?" she said and I noticed how anxious she was.

"What?"

"Carlyon? He's with you?"

"No "

"Then where ... ?"

We stared at each other in dismay and I was conscious of that feeling of sickness, numbness, and desperation which the thought of any harm overtaking Carlyon could give me.

"I thought he must be with you," she said.

"You mean ... he's not here?"

"I've been looking for him for the last ten minutes."

"How long have you missed him?"

"I left him here ... after breakfast. He was making a drawing of his pony... ."

"We must find him," I commanded. "He must be here somewhere."

I went roughly past her. I wanted to upbraid her, to accuse her of carelessness. That was because seeing the toy elephant on the window seat had reminded me vividly how I had wronged her. I called sharply: "Carlyon. Where are you?"

She joined me; and we had soon made sure that he was nowhere in the nursery.

Now the dreadful sick fear was a certainty. Carlyon was lost. In a short time I had the whole household searching for him. Every nook of the Abbas must be searched, every servant questioned. But I was not satisfied that they would search properly. I must search myself, so I went through the house ... through every room, calling for my son to come out if he were hiding, begging him not to frighten me any more.

I thought of all the things that could have harmed him. I pictured him trampled to death by galloping horses, kidnaped by gypsies, caught in a trap ... maimed as poor Joe had been. And there I was in the old part of the house where the nuns had lived, meditated, and prayed; and I seemed to feel despair close in on me and that I was shut in with grief. A horrible suspicion came to me then that some harm had befallen my child. It was as though the spirit of the nun was beside me, that she identified herself with me, that her grief was my grief; and I knew then that if my son were taken from me it would be as though I were walled in by grief which would be as enduring as stone walls.

I fought to throw off the spell of evil which seemed to wrap itself about me.

"No," I cried out aloud. "Carlyon, my son. Where are you? Come out of your hiding place and stop frightening me."

As I ran out of the house, I met Mellyora and glanced hopefully at her but she shook her head.

"He's not in the house," she said.

We began searching the grounds, calling his name.

Near the stables I saw Polore.

"The little master be lost?" he asked.

"Have you seen him?" I demanded.

"Just about an hour ago. Ma'am. He were talking to me about his pony. Took sick it were, in the night, and I were telling him."

"Was he upset?"

"Well, Ma'am. He were always fond of that pony. Talked to 'er he did. Said to never mind. 'Er'd soon be better. Then he did go back to the house. I watched 'un."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"No, Ma'am. I ain't seen him since."

Everyone must join in the search, I commanded. Everything must be left. My son must be found. We had established that he was not in the house; he could not be far away because Polore had seen him only an hour before in the stables.

I cannot explain all that I suffered during the search. Again and again hope was raised and dashed. I felt as though I lived through years of torment. I blamed Mellyora. Was she not supposed to look after him? If anything has happened to him, I thought, I shall have paid in full for anything I did to Mellyora.

She was white and harassed and I had not seen her so unhappy since Justin went. I reminded myself that she loved Carlyon; and it seemed to me that my grief would always be hers. We shared our troubles ... except on one occasion when her loss was my gain.

I saw Johnny riding into the stable and called to him. "What the devil ... ?" he began.

"Carlyon's lost."

"Lost! Where?"

"If we knew, he wouldn't be lost." My grief was so great I had to release some of it in anger. My lips were working and I couldn't control them. "I'm frightened," I said.

"He's playing somewhere."

"We've searched the house and grounds. ..." I looked wildly about me and I caught the glint of the sun on the Virgins.

Then a sudden fear struck me. I had shown him the stones the other day; he had been fascinated by them. "Don't go near the old mine, Carlyon. Promise." He had given his ready promise and he was not a child to break his word. But suppose my very words had aroused some curiosity; suppose he had become so fascinated that he could not resist the temptation to examine the mine; suppose he had forgotten his promise? After all he was little more than a baby.

I turned to Johnny and clutched at his arm. "Johnny," I said, "suppose he went to the mine... ."

I had never seen Johnny so frightened and I warmed to him. There had been times when I had reproached him for his lack of interest in our son. Oh God, I thought. He is as frightened as I am.

"No," said Johnny. "No."

"But if he did ... "

"There's a warning there... ."

"He couldn't read it. Or if he did, it might have made him want to explore."

We stared at each other wildly.

Then I said: "We'll have to find out. They'll have to go down."

"Go down the mine! Are you mad ... Kerensa?"

"But he might be there... ."

"It's madness."

"At this very moment he might be lying hurt... ."

"A fall down there would kill him."

"Johnny!"

"It's a mad idea. He's not there. He's playing somewhere. He's in the house... . He's ..."

"We've got to search the mine. There's no time to be lost. Now ... now."

"Kerensa!"