She could not sleep for a long time, and then she would doze and awake startled to find herself looking towards the door. It was almost as though she expected it to open and Wenna to come in— for what purpose she did not know; she only knew that it made her uneasy.

The weeks began to pass—exciting, wonderful weeks for Melisande, filled with a hundred new experiences.

There was a new world to be explored.

It had been an exciting discovery to look from her windows and see the sea not more than a mile away. She had stood delightedly at her window on that first morning and looked out across the bay to the great strip of land which was like a battering ram flung out into the water; she saw the clouds gathered over the headland and because it was early morning and the sun was beginning to rise, those pink-tinted clouds made a coral-coloured sea.

She was then to live in a beautiful place, in a large luxurious house; she had to make the acquaintance of so many people. The house seemed full of servants and it needed all her gay carelessness of English convention to make their acquaintance. They were inclined to be aloof at first. They were deeply conscious of social layers. It was true she was not on the same shelf as the master and mistress, but neither did she belong on theirs. But Melisande inconsequentially did not see these differences. The servants were people; they lived in the same house as she did; she was eager to know them. First she charmed Mr. Meaker and the footman; and her delighted wonder in the pies and pasties of Mrs. Soady's making soon won her the regard of that excellent cook. The maids were amused and delighted with her; she was never haughty and she could be relied upon to give them her considerate help. The menservants thought her a real charmer and no mistake. She was undoubtedly a great success.

Her foreign ways delighted everyone. Her quaint speech amused while it gave listeners a sense of superiority which was pleasant. She would laugh with them. "Oh, I have said a funniness. Do tell me what you would have said." She would listen gravely and thank them charmingly. Oh, she was a caution all right, they all agreed; a charming caution. She must know this and that. She was full of energy and no matter was too insignificant for her attention.

If only she could have been so sure of her success in the drawing-room as in the servants' hall, Melisande would have been contented. But the family embarrassed her in some way or another.

Sir Charles had so many engagements that she saw very little of him. Caroline never seemed at ease in her presence. Caroline was the mistress and wished that to be clearly understood; but Melisande felt that the one thing Caroline would really have liked to ask her to do she could not, and that was to leave the house.

At the beginning Caroline said to Melisande: "I have never had a companion before. I have had governesses. I suppose a companion would be in the same class. My governesses always had their meals in the little room which adjoins the schoolroom. I think that is

where you had better have yours. You wouldn't wish to have them with the family, would you? Except perhaps on special occasions. I remember my governesses had luncheon with us once a week. That was so that Papa and Mamma could ask questions about my progress. Sometimes they wanted an extra woman for a dinner party. Then one of the governesses would be asked. But on all other occasions they had their meals in this little room. It's difficult. You see, you couldn't be expected to eat with the servants."

Melisande laughed aloud. "No? I would not mind. They are my very good friends. Mrs. Soady and Mr. Meaker ..."

Caroline's mouth tightened a little as it did when she found it necessary to repress the new companion.

"Most governesses would have been offended if they were asked to eat with the lower servants. And of course it would have been quite wrong. So I think it would be a good plan if you had your meals in that room. ..."

So Melisande ate her meals alone in the room. It was of no importance although she would have liked the company of Sir Charles and Mr. Holland or the servants. She was fond of company and it was good fun to laugh and chatter.

Caroline said on that first morning: "I don't know what Papa expected you to do. Lady Gover has a companion. She reads to Lady Gover every afternoon; but then Lady Gover is almost blind, and in any case I shouldn't want to be read to. She makes Lady Gover's clothes too. Of course, there's Pennifield . . . and Wenna does a lot of sewing for me."

"That makes me very happy. I do not like to sew."

Caroline's smile was icy. "There will be sewing for the poor each day. My mother used to read aloud from a good book while I worked. Perhaps we may take it in turns to sew and read." She was implying that it was not for Melisande to say what she liked to do; if it was part of her duty to do such a thing she should do it.

Melisande looked at her pleadingly and pressed her lips tightly together to prevent her indiscreet comment. She wanted to say: "Please like me, because I cannot bear to be disliked. Please tell me what it is you do not like, and I will try to change it."

But she merely looked prettier than ever and that was exactly what irritated Caroline. If she had been ugly—forty, prim and grateful—Caroline would have thought of ways to be kind to her. Caroline did not want to be unkind; she was only unkind to those she feared; and she feared this girl for all her poverty and dependence.

She had spoken to her father that very morning, going to his study even though she knew he did not like to be disturbed there.

"Papa," she had said, "I cannot understand why you have

brought this girl here. I do not want a companion. I have plenty to do preparing for my wedding."

"I think you should have a companion for a year or so—until you are married,'* he had answered. "I wish you to perfect your knowledge of the French language. You need a young lady companion when you go visiting."

"People will not receive her."

''They will receive her as your companion. She is a gentlewoman and well educated—better educated, I fear, than you are. She is quiet and modest and would, I am sure, be received anywhere."

"Quiet! Modest! I would not describe her so!"

"You are extremely selfish, Caroline. This girl needs a post. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I am sorry for anyone who has to work, but that does not mean I want a companion. Why not find someone who does . . . someone like Lady Gover?"

"Lady Gover is very well satisfied with the companion she has. When you no longer have need of Miss St. Martin's services, I shall be obliged to find her another situation. In the meantime I should be glad if you would accept her as your companion and act as a well-bred young lady is expected to act—thinking a little of others less fortunate than herself."

Fermor was equally unsympathetic. When he said that it was a shame the poor girl had to eat alone, Caroline had retorted sharply: "You seem very interested in her."

"Interested! Well, she's a bit of a character. It's the way she talks. I find that amusing."

"She would find it uncomfortable if she were expected to have her meals with us, and I have no doubt that she thinks herself too good for the servants' hall. They always do. I remember there was always embarrassment about the governesses. One is always in danger of offending their susceptibilities. I suppose companions are the same. Genteel poverty is such a bore."

"Why not ask her which she prefers?" suggested Fermor. "I'm sure her ideas on the matter would be original."