Mellyora and I dined alone together. She knew I was worried because she had always been able to sense my moods; and she guessed that my anxieties were concerned with the estate.

"Things have been going wrong ever since ..." she began.

I did not answer. I could never bear her to refer to Justin.

She was silent, her eyes lowered; I knew that she was thinking of all that might have been. Was she seeing, as I was, herself sitting at this table, Justin smiling at her, a happy Justin, content in his marriage? Was she thinking of the son—the future Sir Justin—who might at this time be asleep in the nurseries?

I felt angry with her. I said sharply: "Things have not been going well at the Abbas for some time."

She played with her knife and fork. "Kerensa, there's going to be a lot of poverty hereabouts."

"You mean when the Fedder mine closes?"

She looked up then and her eyes were full of pity. She nodded.

"It can't be long now," she went on. "And then ..."

"It seems to me that we're all falling on hard times." I couldn't help it but I had to know what was in her mind, so I went on: "Mellyora, have you heard from Justin lately?"

"Not for two months," she answered, and her voice sounded tranquil. "His letters have changed."

"Changed?" I wondered whether she noticed the fear in my voice as soon as I had spoken.

"He seems ... more at peace. Reconciled."

"There is ... someone else?"

"No. It is just that he is at peace ... spiritually."

I said harshly: "If he had really loved you, Mellyora, he would never have left you."

She regarded me steadily. "Perhaps there are several kinds of love, Kerensa. Perhaps it is difficult for us to understand them all."

I felt contemptuous of them both—Justin and Mellyora. I need not reproach myself. They were not capable of deep and passionate love. Love for them had to be right and conventional. That was no way to love. What I had done need not haunt me. After all, if they had really loved, they would not have allowed themselves to be parted. The only worthwhile love was one which was ready to cast aside all worldly considerations for its sake.

We were suddenly aware of unusual sounds. The tramp of feet, the sound of voices.

"What's happening?" I asked, and we were silent, listening, as the voices came closer. I heard the loud clanging of the doorbell, followed by silence and Haggety's footsteps. Then the sound of voices and Haggety was coming to the dining room.

I looked up as he entered. "Yes, Haggety?"

He cleared his throat. "Tis a deputation, Ma'am. They want to see Mr. St. Larnston."

"Did you tell them that he was not at home?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but I don't rightly think they believed me."

"What deputation is this?"

"Well, Ma'am. It be some of the men from Fedder's, I do think, and there's Saul Cundy with 'em."

"And they've come here?" I asked. "Why?"

Haggety looked discomfited. "Well, Ma'am, I did tell them ..."

I knew why they had come. They wanted the St. Larnston mine to be examined for tin. If it were possible that it could provide work, they wanted it provided. And why not? Might it not be the solution to our problems? The mine had saved the Abbas once. Why not again?

I said; "I will see the men, Haggety. Bring them into the library."

Haggety hesitated; I looked at him coldly and he turned away to do my bidding.

In the library I faced the men. Saul Cundy looked big and powerful. A grim man, a leader, I thought; and I wondered once more what he had seen in Hetty Pengaster.

Saul was the spokesman, so I addressed myself to him.

"You have come to see my husband but he is not at home. He consults me in business matters, so if you care to tell me why you have come here I shall be able to pass on your message to him."

They hesitated; I could see skeptical looks on some of the faces. Perhaps they didn't believe that Johnny wasn't at home; perhaps they didn't care to talk to a woman.

Saul Cundy and I took each other's measure. I was sure he was remembering that I was Granny Bee's granddaughter. He decided to talk to me.

"Well, Ma'am," he said, "tis a certain fact that the Fedder mine be closing down and that will bring real hardships to many on us. We believe there be good tin in St. Larnston mine and us wants a chance to find out, and if we be right to get it working."

"That seems fair enough," I answered.

I could see the relief on their faces and I went on: "As soon as my husband returns I will tell him of your visit and the matter will be looked into."

Saul Cundy went on: 'Well, Ma'am, there shouldn't be no delay like. Reckon it 'ud put everyone's mind at rest if we did start getting the boryers ready."

"What makes you so sure there is tin in St. Larnston mine?"

"Well, our grandfathers did tell our fathers and our fathers did tell we how it were closed down sudden like. For a whim, ye might say. Reg'lar lot of hardship it caused too. Well, hard times is coming and hard times is no times for gentlemen to flaunt their whims."

There was a threat there and I did not like threats, but I realized the wisdom of their reasoning. "I will certainly tell my husband that you have called," I assured them.

"And tell him. Ma'am, that we'll be calling again."

I bowed my head and they filed out respectfully.

I went back to Mellyora. She was quite pale.

"Kerensa," she said, her eyes showing her admiration, "is there nothing you will not do?"

I retorted that I could not see that I had done anything extraordinary, and I thought: This is the answer. The mine will be worked again. The Abbas will be saved for Sir Carlyon.

I was awake when Johnny came in that night. I saw before I spoke that there was a look of desperation in his eyes; it was what I had come to recognize as the losing look.

So much the better. He would now be as eager for the investigations into the possibility of working the mine as everyone else.

I sat up in bed, and as soon as he entered I cried: "Johnny, there has been a deputation."

"A what?"

"Saul Cundy and some of the miners have been here. They want you to open the St. Larnston mine."

He sat down on the bed and stared at me.

"I know you don't like it. But it's a way out of our difficulties. What worked once can work again."

"Are you mad?" he demanded. He rose unsteadily and went over to the window; he drew back the curtains and stood there looking out.

"You've been drinking," I accused. "Oh, Johnny, don't you see that something has to be done? These men are going to open up the mine whether you like it or not."

"If I find them on my property, I'll have them up for trespassing."

"Listen, Johnny. Something will have to be done. There's going to be a lot of hardship here when the Fedder mine closes. You can't let our mine stand idle when it could provide work... ."

He turned then, his mouth was twitching. I had not realized he was in such a bad state.

"You know very well that the mine can't be interfered with."

"I know that we've got to do something about it, Johnny."

"What?"

"We've got to show these people that we're willing to open up the mine. What will they think of us if we refuse?"

He looked at me as though he could have killed me. "The mine is not being touched," he said.

"Johnny."

He went out of the room. He didn't come back, but spent the night in his dressing room.

Johnny was adamant. He would not open the mine. I had never known him so stubborn. He had changed; he had always been lighthearted and careless and I could not understand this change in him. Why should he be so sternly against it? He had never cared so much for the family pride as Justin had.

Justin! I had the idea of writing to Justin. After all, Justin was the head of the house still. If he gave his permission for investigations to begin, that was enough.

I hesitated. I pictured Justin's receiving the letter, deciding this was a good enough reason for his return. I saw him winning the approval of the village. Perhaps they would be ready to forget the circumstances which had led to his departure if he returned and opened the mine.

No, I couldn't write to Justin.

Everything was changing in the village. Disaster was threatening; forelocks were pulled with a sullen gesture. We, the St. Larnston family, might have provided work and refused to do so.

A stone was once thrown at Johnny as he rode through the village. He did not know who had thrown it and it did not hit him; but it was a sign.

I had never felt so uneasy.

I did not try remonstrating with him because I had an idea that that made him more stubborn. He was hardly ever at home; he would come in quietly at midnight and creep into the dressing room. He was clearly avoiding me.

I had retired to bed early. I kept telling myself that things couldn't go on in this way. Something would happen. Johnny would give way.

I lay sleepless. I guessed Johnny would not be home until midnight ... or later still. Then I must have another talk with him, no matter how angry I made him. I must remind him of his duty to our son. What foolish family pride this was which made him hold out against the inevitable.

I rehearsed the words I would use, and as I lay there some impulse made me get out of bed and go to the window.

It was a habit of mine often to stand at that window because from it I could see the ring of stones and they fascinated me now as they ever had. None of my problems, I always told myself, were as great as theirs had been. Perhaps that was why I could always draw comfort from them.