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"If you imagine that you've made a conquest," Natalie added under her breath, "I would put the idea out of your head, too. You're not the sort of person Charles would marry, even if he wasn't already committed to looking after Jenny. He made Claire a promise about that, and one day he and Jenny will marry."

"I see."

It was as much as Elizabeth could manage while her heart pounded slowly against her ribs, beating out the rhythm of her despair. Perhaps it was only natural that Charles should marry Jenny in the end, someone he had known all his life, someone who loved Kilchoan, but her heart cried out its protest all the same as he came towards them with the slight smile on his lips which she would never be able to forget.

"You'll have to wire the back gate," he advised Natalie. "That was a young one, but lie had already learned to use his head."

"They jump over the wall, anyway," said Natalie. "A garden in these parts is something of a lost cause. You're lucky at Kilchoan, of course, with that enormous surrounding wall."

She seemed to be eternally drawing comparisons with his family and her own, and for a moment Charles looked impatient.

"I'll have a bit put on the top of the fence for you," he offered. "Murdoch can send someone to do it in the morning—Will Beatty, probably."

A dull red colour suffused Natalie's sallow cheeks.

"I don't want help from Will Beatty, thank you," she said. "Murdoch can send someone else, someone more— reliable."

Charles looked at her keenly.

"I'm surprised to hear that about Will," he said. "He used to do all your odd jobs for you at one time."

Natalie turned towards the house.

"Perhaps he did," she returned stiffly, "but I won't have him back. You can tell Jamie Murdoch that if you like."

She walked away up the path without saying good night or thanking him for seeing her home.

Charles led the way back down the road towards Kilchoan.

"Natalie can be very difficult," he said. "She would try the patience of a saint at times, so don't take too much notice of what she says. At one time Will Beatty was without fault in her eyes and there was even a hint that they might marry, but now she seems to have changed her mind. The only person who can deal with Natalie is my grandmother!"

"I'm not surprised!" Elizabeth was determined to put the thought of Natalie Hodge out of her mind for the time being, at least "Your grandmother has most people neatly docketed in her mind."

He smiled at the thought.

"How right you are!" he said. "You seem to get on very well together."

"We managed to come to terms with each other from the beginning," Elizabeth agreed.

At the first bend in the road they drew up to admire the view, looking down across open moorland to the lochan and Kilchoan with the hills and trees in the background and the pink flush of a lingering sunset staining its old grey walls. The golden light from the west was caught and reflected from its many windows, as if a warm fire burned in all the rooms, beckoning them home.

Abruptly Elizabeth turned away. Home for Charles and one day, when he had managed to put the tragedy of Claire's untimely death behind him, a home for Jenny, too. That was what Natalie Hodge wanted more than anything else, she realised, because, with her younger sister firmly established at Kilchoan as Charles Abercrombie's wife, she could enjoy security at Windy Brae and a prestige in the district which she coveted. Marriage for herself didn't seem to enter into her scheme of things; she had her horses and her own way of life in the glen, and these seemed to be sufficient.

"Have the Hodges always lived here?" she asked as they walked on.

"Their people farmed at Berridene on the other side of the hill. Claire ran it," he added, "after her father died. There were no sons in the family. When Claire and I were going to be married they came to live at Windy Brae because Jenny and Natalie could never have managed on their own." He drew a deep breath. "These things happen and, because of the accident, we feel an obligation to both Jenny and Natalie."

"Your grandmother is very fond of Jenny," Elizabeth commented.

"Who wouldn't be?" His tone was rough. "Jenny is a very dear person. We all love her, but sometimes I feel that she's being overwhelmed."

"In what way?"

"Everyone insisting that she must be taken care of. Jenny could always take care of herself. She used to be a fighter. It was Jenny who did everything for Claire after the accident, in spite of her own injuries, but she took a tough knock shortly afterwards which seems to have crushed her in some way."

They were nearing Kilchoan and Elizabeth knew that they had come to the end of their confidences, but she was glad that Charles had been able to speak about Claire. His face was stern at the thought of Jenny, yet there was a great tenderness in his eyes when he spoke her name.

"Jenny will show you the glen," he said. "Try to befriend her while you're here, Elizabeth."

The implication in those last few words sank into Elizabeth's heart like a stone. He did not expect her to stay at Kilchoan for any length of time, and perhaps he was even suggesting in the most tactful way possible that she should go now that his grandmother was safely home.

THAT first meal at Kilchoan was an unforgettable one for Elizabeth. Jenny was very gay and they helped Mrs. Murdoch to bring in the plates from the kitchen, watching while Charles carved the large joint of roast mutton as they would have done if they had really been part of his family.

Adele Abercrombie sat in a high-backed chair at the head of the table, appraising them with smiling eyes, glad to be back at Kilchoan after three months of travelling, glad to be home. She sustained a vivacious conversation with the grieve's wife while Mrs. Murdoch remained in the room and told diem afterwards that she had missed 'that grand little woman' more than anyone else.

"More than me?" demanded Jenny, her eyes very bright.

"What makes you think I should miss you?" the old lady teased. "You chatter all the time without managing to say very much!"

"Oh, Grand'mere!" Jenny protested, "if I thought you meant that I'd never speak to you again. I
have
got a lot to say, and ask, but I can't think of everything at once."

"What have you been doing while I've been away?" Adele asked. "Your letters were most unsatisfactory."

"You know I don't put things down on paper very well," Jenny frowned, "but I've been quite busy. Natalie had to write my letters for me, at first," she added in a low voice, "until I got used to scribbling with my left hand. I've visited all the people on the list you left," she added hastily, "and I've started to make little animals out of wood. They'll take them at the craft shop and sell them on commission for me during the summer."

"What about your painting?" Adele asked.

Jenny's eyes darkened.

"I haven't done any at all," she confessed. "Winter isn't the time."

"But spring is, and it's spring now," Adele pointed out.

"One day—"

" 'One day" is far too late," Adele said firmly. "You can come with me when I start to fish. You can sit on the bank and paint, if you've nothing more important to do. Do you paint, Elizabeth?" she asked. "It's a wonderful recreation, even if you are not a budding Constable or even a Picasso."

"I'm afraid I haven't any talent in that direction," Elizabeth confessed.

"I didn't ask if you had talent. All I wanted to know was if you had the urge to put colour and life on to a canvas by means of a brush and some oils."

Elizabeth smiled.

"It was a very long time ago," she confessed.

"Well, you must try again," Adele declared. "Never give in after a false start," she advised. "Jenny will let you have one of her sketching-blocks and a pencil to begin with, and if you don't make anything of it you can always learn to fish J"

Charles, who had been a silent, if interested, observer, rose to pour his grandmother some more wine.

"Don't overdo the fishing," he advised. "Wait till I can come with you."

"And when will that be?" she demanded. "You are off to Glasgow on Monday, I gather, and that means weeks of hard work as far as you are concerned with the odd day up here if you can spare the time."

"You would be the first one to notice if I idled my time away!"

"Being idle and spending a well-earned holiday are two entirely different things," she affirmed. "I'll expect you here at week-ends, Charles," she added. "Bring your paper work with you, if you must, but come."

"I'll see what I can do." He was standing behind Jenny, smiling down at her bent head. "I might even help with the animals," he promised when she looked up at him, "since I have no great talent with a paintbrush."

When the meal was over Elizabeth and Jenny helped to wash up while Charles talked business with Adele, putting her in the picture as far as his recent negotiations were concerned. Her agile mind was still needle-sharp, and from time to time they appeared to be arguing a point till it was finally disposed of to their mutual satisfaction.

Jenny seemed to be supremely happy now that Adele had returned and Charles was at Kilchoan. Her eyes shone as she embraced the whole world with a radiant smile and only occasionally, when she believed herself unobserved, was there a slight droop to her pretty mouth and a seriousness about her which suggested that all might not be well in her sheltered little world.

The week-end passed uneventfully and Charles set out for Glasgow on the Monday morning, promising his grandmother to return on the Friday if it was at all possible. With five whole days before them Mrs. Abercrombie made her plans.

"We'll work during the morning, Elizabeth," she decided, "when the light is good, and then we can have the remainder of the day to ourselves. Jenny will show you around in the afternoon, or Natalie,' if she feels inclined. Do you want to ride?"

Elizabeth hesitated.

"I learned to ride in Queensland, although I never had my own horse," she said.

"Natalie will fix you up with a suitable pony," Adele suggested. "You can tell her I said so. She's a very selfish person, you know; thinks of nobody hut herself. That's part of the reason why I have Jenny to stay here while I am at home."

"You've taken her completely under your wing."

"I'm protecting her from too much Natalie!"

"Do you think she needs protection?" Elizabeth ventured.

"Of course she does! She has to live with a crippled hand." Adele frowned over her spectacles. "Sometimes you talk exactly like Charles," she said.

Elizabeth flushed.

"I'm sorry!" she apologised. "I didn't mean to sound critical."

"You think I smother Jenny with my affection," Adele mused. "Perhaps I do. She is the daughter I never had."

"Yes, I can understand that," Elizabeth agreed.

"But you think I ought to let her stand more on her own two feet? I thought to do that when I went off to Australia without her," Adele admitted. "At least, it was one of my reasons.. Jason was the other one."

Elizabeth waited, not quite sure where Jason came into Mrs. Abercrombie's scheme of things, but her employer had apparently come to the end of her confidences.

"If you're not a very experienced rider don't let Natalie put you up on a mettlesome horse," she warned. "She tends to despise people who can't ride like Peer Gynt, but take no notice of her. Do things within your limits till you get acclimatised and you'll steer clear of trouble."

Elizabeth put the writing material on the table between them.

"Mrs. Abercrombie," she began, "do you really need me any longer? Our arrangement was for your journey home, no more."

Adele looked across the table at her, an odd expression in her dark eyes.

"Are you saying you want to leave?" she asked.

"No. I just thought you might be—"

"Feeling sorry for you?" Adele suggested. "Well, I'm not I think you are like most of the young girls of your admirable generation. You can. take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean to say that you are infallible in your judgment when it comes to doing the right thing at the right time. There is at least another three weeks' work for you here, if you wish to take it You've seen the accumulated pile of letters I have to deal with and you know how slowly I work." She sat down in her chair by the window. "Why are you so anxious to go away, Elizabeth?" she asked.

"I'm not," Elizabeth confessed. "I was just trying to be practical. There would be no point in you continuing to employ me if you didn't really need my help,"

"Let me be the best judge of that, if you please," Adele said in her best businesslike manner. "We will start with these letters from Edinburgh. I hate lawyers' communications," she added brightly. "They generally mean complications that one could very well do without"

They worked for two hours, considerably reducing the pile of correspondence which had accumulated in her absence, and then Mrs. Abercrombie dismissed her secretary-companion with a few brief instructions.

"Have your lunch with Jenny and let her take you on a tour of the estate," she commanded. "You both like to walk, but if you are still anxious to ride go and see Natalie. She may even be flattered by your interest," she added slowly.

It was difficult for Elizabeth to imagine that anyone could placate Natalie, and she certainly would not stoop to flattery to curry favour with someone she disliked instinctively. The naked antagonism in the older girl's eyes had not been a figment of her own imagination; it had been there, stark and real for her to see, and Natalie made no pretence of friendship when they finally met Jenny had jumped at the idea of a tour round the estate and their first call had been to the Murdochs' cottage at the main gates. The grieve and his wife had entertained them in their tiny sitting-room and afterwards Jenny had taken her to see some of the little wooden animals she had made. She worked in a small outhouse, gathering oddly-shaped pieces of wood and bits of stone off the hillside which she fashioned into the creatures of her fancy, using a chisel and a small clamp when she found it impossible to hold them with her injured hand. They were amazingly true to life. Jenny's unerring eye had produced tiny mice and lively squirrels and fierce backwards-looking stoats, together with a variety of birds which ranged from a brooding heron poised on one leg to a perky robin with beady, inquisitive eyes.