CHAPTER FIVE

"YOU'RE engaged?" repeated Franklin, on a note of amusement and surprise. "To Geoffrey Revian? Why, congratulations, " He held out his hand to her. "How did you keep that news to yourself until now?"

"Oh, there, there were quite a lot of other things to attend to today, " she assured him, and she tried to make her voice sound naturally frank and happy.

But she looked past him as she spoke, to the very still figure of Sara, who even now had not turned round.

"Did you hear that, Sara?" Franklin too looked over at his fiancée then. "Did you know about Miss Farman's engagement?"

And then, at last, Sara did turn to face them, and Beverley saw that she was very pale.

"Yes, I heard." Sara spoke in a quiet, strangely flat voice. "But I didn't know about it before. I, hope you will be very happy, Miss Farman."

"Thank you, " said Beverley in a small voice, for she felt most strangely as' though she had struck some unoffending person in the face. She had not intended to hurt Sara like that. Before she spoke the fatal words, she had almost convinced herself that the other girl really had no interest in Geoffrey, after all. Now, in face of that blank look and inescapable pallor, she could no longer cherish any illusions. Whatever Geoffrey's attitude might be, there was no doubt of Sara's fondness for him.

"Aren't you well, darling?" It was Franklin who spoke suddenly, galvanizing both girls into the realization that they must somehow disguise the immense gulf which had all at once been torn in their relationship.

"I'm all right." Sara roused herself. "I have a slight headache, but it's nothing much. Don't we want to show Miss Farman the rest of the house?"

With the eager assurance that she would love to see more of Eithorpe Hall, Beverley seconded this attempt to return to normality. And, as they started on an informal tour of the house, she forced herself to make easy conversation, so as to hide the fact that Sara had become strangely silent again.

She asked Franklin all sorts of questions, how he had come to buy the place, and what other alterations he and Sara proposed to make.

"I always wanted a place of this kind, " he told her candidly. "I suppose, " he grinned reflectively, "it's something in me from some farming ancestors, way back in the family. Then, when my father died, he left me a controlling interest in a variety of concerns, mostly to do with plastics. A lot of our work is done in the Tyrfe Valley, and it seemed the reasonable moment to combine my business interests with the pleasures of owning a country estate. Now, all I need is a beautiful wife to grace the scene. Isn't that right, my sweet?" And he put his arm round Sara.

"Yes, " she said. But that was all.

In other circumstances, Beverley would have been truly interested to see over Eithorpe Hall. But, as it was, she felt the strain of the present situation increasing with every room she looked at and admired.

She supposed that what she wanted more than any thing else in the world was to have Sara to herself for ten minutes. And yet, even if she achieved that, what was there, she could say?

In the end, the opportunity came with almost frightening suddenness and simplicity. They had all returned to the pleasant drawing-room overlooking a terraced garden where excellent coffee and sandwiches had been set out by the housekeeper. And, just as they had sat down, a servant came to say that Franklin was wanted on the telephone.

"Don't wait for me, " he said. "If it's Thompson about the new barns I may be some while." And then he went away, leaving the two girls together.

There was silence for a moment. Then Beverley, unable to sit still and exchange no more than social pleasantries, got up from her chair and walked restlessly to the window.

"May I pour you some coffee?" Sara's voice enquired politely and formally behind her.

"Yes, please, I mean, no, thank you, "

Beverley turned, with sudden resolution and faced the other girl. "Never mind about the coffee for the moment." She spoke quite gently. "There's something else we must talk about."

"Are you sure?" Sara raised her beautiful eyes and looked Beverley full in the face. "Aren't some things better left unsaid?"

"Sometimes, perhaps. But not in this case." Beverley came over and sat down again, facing the other girl. "Sara, " in that moment any social distinction between them was wiped out, "I simply have to ask you something. You're in love with Geoffrey Revian yourself, aren't you?"

Even up to that very last moment, perhaps she had some wild hope that all her fears would be proved groundless. But, if so, the hope was dashed by the way Sara caught her breath at the question. There was a moment's hesitation, then she said quietly, "Yes." Though she added almost immediately. "But it isn't any good."

"How do you mean? it isn't any good?"

"There was never any question of our, marrying.

There is no reason why you should not be engaged to him."

"But, you can't just dispose of it like that!" Beverley was aghast, both at the final confirmation of her worst fears and at Sara's over-simplification of a tragically complicated issue. "I can't possibly marry Geoffrey knowing that he, he loves someone else."

Again there was an infinitesimal pause. Then Sara spoke, with an effort, Beverley thought. "I didn't say that he loved me. I only said I loved him."

"Oh, my dear, " Beverley put out her hand, and in that moment of compassion she felt that one was almost as much of a barrier as the other. "I'm sorry to, to make you talk of your most private feelings, but, "

"It doesn't matter. I suppose we had to talk of them, after what happened half an hour ago." Sara was strangely calm about it all now. "How did you guess, by the way?"

"That you loved Geoffrey?"

"Yes."

"Oh, one. or two things made me wonder, Beverley was not going to betray Toni even now, "but only quite passingly. Then, the way you looked when I spoke of my engagement, "

"Did I give myself away so completely?"

"N-no. But you went white and looked, stunned."

"Do you think Franklin noticed?"

"Only enough to think you unwell. He accepted the headache excuse, I'm sure. Men are rather dense about these things, " Beverley said consolingly.

"Not Franklin, " replied Sara dryly, but she seemed reassured. Then she rather deliberately poured out coffee for them both and said, "Tell me about yourself and, Geoffrey."

This was not quite what Beverley had intended. She had wanted Sara to tell her about herself and Geoffrey. But she could not refuse to answer a request put with so little offence, even if, in a sense, she were talking to her rival.

"I've known him since I was a child, as I told you, " she began hesitatingly. "I, I think I have always loved him, though not, of course, always in quite the same way, over the years. But he, he always seemed, in some way, to be, mine. I didn't often think specifically about marrying him, because I never thought of him as being in a position to marry."

"He's not, I suppose, even now, " Sara remarked, with a faint smile. "That's why I assumed there, there wouldn't be anyone else in his life."

Beverley hesitated for a moment, while she reviewed the hopes and fears of the immediate past and wondered what she could venture to tell Sara. Then she saw it was impossible to enlarge on those, and she said lamely, "Then, quite unexpectedly, last night he asked me to marry him."

"Last night?" Sara spoke almost under her breath. It was so recent? Only -, last night!"

"Yes." Beverley had not meant her voice to sound forlorn, but the fearful drop from the high hopes of last evening to the disillusionment of the last half-hour could not be borne without a quiver in one's tone.

Perhaps that was what suddenly roused Sara to the realization that someone else's happiness was at stake.

"Listen, Beverley-, " she leaned forward and put her hand on Beverley's arm, "you're not to let this interfere with your happiness, or his. As you can see, I m going to marry someone else. I have my life mapped out in front of me. I'm sorry I hadn't the self-discipline to hide my feelings better just now, but the weakness is past. I shall marry Franklin and be a very fortunate girl in many ways, and all my family will be delighted. You will marry Geoffrey and, I beg you, forget anything that happened or was said this afternoon."

"I can't' you know'" Beverley replied quite simply. "Human nature doesn't react that way."

"But what do you propose to do?" Sara opened her eyes wide.

"I don't know."

"You wouldn't be so foolish as to -, to bring the subject up with Geoffrey."

"I don't know, " Beverley said again. "No, I don't think so. But, " she summoned all her resolution, Sara, there is something I simply must know, either from you or from him. You said just now that, that you loved him, but that you had made no assertion that he loved you. Did that mean, " she swallowed, "was that your way of saying that he doesn't love you?"

"I suppose so." Sara looked straight in front of her, rather stonily.

"But, can't you be more categorical?" cried Beverley. "Oh, I know it's awful to ask you to define his attitude, when you feel as you do. But, don't you see? I'm tormented by the idea that he, he just decided to marry me on the rebound. I wouldn't be prepared to accept that. I'd rather, "

"Beverley, " suddenly the other girl spoke, with an instinctive half-bitter sort of knowledge quite unlike her usual passionless attitude, "don't you know that things are never satisfactorily black or white in this life? I can only tell you that if Geoffrey ever loved me at all, he certainly didn't love me well enough to alter his life in the only way that would have made it possible for us to marry."

"I don't understand."

"No. How should you?" Sara passed her hand over her face, as though literally clearing away the cobwebs from her own vision. "It's not very simple to people who don't know our family well. But I'll try to explain, "

"Please do." Beverley looked at her anxiously, as though she were talking some different and not very familiar language.

"We're poor and we're ambitious, Beverley. Almost all of us, except perhaps Toni, " Sara smiled faintly. "I'm not free from the same outlook myself. I don't think I'd be prepared to be a poor man's wife, even if I were left entirely to my own choice. But whether I would or not just doesn't arise. What I do affects all the others in the family, in a lesser or greater degree. I'm almost the best asset they have, " she said it without conceit and without false modesty, "I'm the beautiful eldest daughter who always has to marry money, "

"But they can't, " began Beverley in horrified protest.

"Wait, " Sara held up her hand, again with that faint smile. "You mustn't think there is anything melodramatic or cruel about it. No one would actually put violent pressure on me, except emotionally speaking, ' if I refused to play ball. But unless I marry money, the family situation will be pretty grim. Lots of girls, I suppose, have to do the same, "

"Indeed they don't!" exclaimed Beverley, in energetic protest.

"Oh, yes, they do. Not as a clear-cut issue, perhaps. But their family needs, and, to a certain extent, their own tastes and inclinations, lead them inevitably that way. I don't mean that I would marry an odious man, just because he was rich, and no one in the family would expect me to do so, "

"I should think not, indeed!"

"But Franklin is quite a dear, " Beverley found herself hoping, passingly, that the gay, high-spirited, rather arrogant Franklin Lowell would never know that Sara spoke of him in that casual way. "He is the answer to all our prayers. I shall marry him."

"And, Geoffrey?"

"Geoffrey just wouldn't do, " Sara said quietly and deliberately. "A poor, struggling artist would be nothing less than a disaster in our" family."

Beverley stared at the other girl, still unable to take in completely a view of life so totally different from her own. After a moment she said slowly, "Then you never seriously considered Geoffrey as a, a husband?" A sort of hope, undefined but real, began to stir in her heart again.

"Not as things are."

Hope died, and an acute anxiety took its place.

"You said something just now, that he wouldn't alter his life in the only way that would have made a, a marriage possible. What, exactly, did you mean by that? Did you, discuss the subject with him?"

"Oh, Beverley, " Sara shrugged, half-humourously, half-despairingly, "where is the dividing line between our hopes and our suggestions? I, let him know that I couldn't think of marrying a poor man.

"Quite academically speaking?" interrupted Beverley sharply.

There was the faintest pause. Then Sara said, though without looking at Beverley "Quite academically speaking. If he wanted me enough, he must have known from that, that he would have to make things up with his father, "

"But he couldn't do that without giving up his painting!" Beverley, who had followed all the details of that struggle so sympathetically, was aghast at the idea. But Sara was less impressed.

"That was up to him, " she said calmly. "He could have made a reconciliation - if he wanted to. And his father is quite a wealthy man. Not so rich as Franklin, of course, but rich enough to make his only son acceptable in my family, provided they were on good terms. Geoffrey was not prepared to do that, "

"Did he say as much?" Beverley asked quickly. And she almost prayed that the other girl would look her in the face when she replied, so that she would know positively and forever if the real truth were being told.

But Sara's long lashes came down, in that faintly secretive way of hers, and her face was expressionless as she said, "It was never discussed categorically. The facts spoke for themselves."

Beverley thought it was hopelessly, maddeningly unsatisfactory to have facts speaking for themselves. She wanted someone to say, in so many words, that, even if Geoffrey had once been very much attracted to Sara, that was over and done with, and had, in any case, never amounted to very much. But Geoffrey was the only one who could make that categorical statement. And how could one, with any decency and dignity, ask Geoffrey?

Possibly Sara could have said more. Or possibly she chose to conceal more, both for her own self respect and a genuine concern for Beverley's peace of mind. In any case, they seemed suddenly to have come to the end of the extraordinary flood of candour which had broken loose over them, and now they sat silently facing each other over the coffee and sandwiches.

So they were sitting when Franklin came back again, with apologies for having left them so long. If he detected any strain in their manner, he concealed the fact admirably and, with a tremendous effort, Beverley once more contrived to take a reasonable part in the conventional conversation which filled the gap until it was time to go.

At this point Sara pleaded that her headache had become worse, and asked if Beverley would mind their dropping her first at Huntingford Grange before making the journey to Binwick.

"No, of course not." Beverley tried to look completely convinced of the genuineness of this excuse, while Franklin Lowell, in the manner of most thoroughly healthy people faced by even a minor indisposition in someone else, looked rather nonplussed.

"It's nothing, really, " Sara explained almost impatiently. "I'll be all right in the morning."

And so they drove back to Huntingford Grange, where Sara bade them both a very brief goodnight and left them.

"You had better come and sit in front now, " Franklin suggested to Beverley, when Sara had disappeared into the house. "It's more companionable that way."

So Beverley changed her seat. And presently when the somewhat sobering effect of Sara's pale presence had passed, her companion began to ask her in a friendly way about her own affairs, when she and Geoffrey hoped to get married and what their future plans might be.

Somehow, it was much easier explaining the position to Franklin Lowell than to Aunt Ellen, and Beverley found herself telling him quite frankly that they had not been able to get very far yet with the practical arrangements.

"Just made the one big discovery that you were born for each other, and left it at that?" he suggested.

"More or less." She tried not to think of what Sara and she had discussed that evening. "Though, of course, " she went on, with a slight effort, "we have known each other for so long that it couldn't really have come as a complete surprise to us both."

"But it was a surprise to you?" He was, she realized, quick to sense shades of meaning in a doubtful tone.

"In the end, yes." And then, in a sort of burst of confidence she said, "Sometimes one hopes for a long time, without really daring to expect anything to happen. And then, suddenly, it happens."

"And that was the way with you?" He smiled, not unkindly. "So that now all the anxiety and doubts are over, eh?"

She didn't answer. Because, when the situation was put into words like that, she was overwhelmed by the thought of the anxiety and doubts which still remained. Apparently he was good at interpreting silences too, for he gave her that shrewd, oddly friendly glance and said, "Not quite over, I see. What's the trouble?"

"There, there isn't any, " she declared quickly, startled that he could read her so easily.

He did not press the point, and she could have left the matter there. But something, perhaps it was the unspeakable urge to be reassured by someone, anyone, goaded her into further, inexplicable confidences.

"I don't know why I'm telling you, but, for a while, I, I thought he was keen on someone else."

"Well, it seems you were wrong, " he pointed out philosophically.

"I, don't know."

He glanced at her again. Then he said in a deliberately matter-of-fact sort of voice,

"Lots of men have a preliminary flutter with someone else before they settle down with the one girl who matters."

"I know. I suppose it's, silly to worry."

"Very, " he assured her, but again not unkindly. "Concentrate on what is coming, my dear, not on what is past. Are you going to settle in Binwick?"

"Oh, yes!" She explained briefly about her mother. "And I shall go on working too. We shan't be too well off, " she admitted, with a candour which seemed to amuse him.

"No? And yet, " he frowned consideringly,

"Revian ought to make money, you know. He's got what it takes, so far as portrait painting is concerned, I should have thought. He ought to have a London exhibition of his own. That would be the thing to put him on the map."

Beverley laughed and shook her head, as she thought of the times she and Geoffrey had discussed just such an idea in past years.

"Have you any idea what that would cost? Especially for people living in a remote village like this."

"Doesn't his father ever help him?"

"No. He doesn't approve of Geoffrey's way of life at all. He wanted him to go into the business years ago, and I don't think Geoffrey was very tactful in the way he refused. They've been quite bitterly estranged ever since."

"I see." Franklin Lowell narrowed his handsome eyes slightly as he looked ahead. "Have you no good friends?"

"Yes, of course. But no one who could think of putting up so much money. Why should they, come to that?"

"Because he is very talented and you are very nice, I suppose, " he replied, with a smile. "I tell you what , I'll give it to you for a wedding present."

"Give me, give us, ? I don't understand, " gasped Beverley. "What is it you want to give us for a wedding present? Oh, but you can't anyway. You, you hardly know us."

"Pardon me, I've known you since you were a little girl."

"Oh, but that's different!" She laughed, half touched and wholly charmed.

"On the contrary, it is extremely appropriate. I might even lend my portrait of you for the occasion, " he said reflectively. "It's almost essential, I suppose, since it was the cause of bringing us all together, and the basis of my confidence in Revian as an artist. Yes, definitely that will have to have a place in the exhibition."

"But, I simply can't believe it! Do you really mean that you want to, to finance an exhibition of Geoffrey's pictures in a London gallery?"

"Yes. Is it so astonishing? Lots of rich men fancy themselves as patrons of the arts, I believe."

"But, not you, " she said, before she could stop herself. Then she coloured and gave him an apologetic little smile.

"Well, no, " he agreed, without offence. Indeed, he gave her a wickedly amused glance in return for her smile. "I suppose it isn't much in my line, really.

But I do believe in Revian as an artist, and I do like you as a person. And, though I don't know why I should allow myself to be trapped into this sentimental statement, it pleases me to do something towards the future happiness of my little friend in the blue and white dress."

"Oh, Mr. Lowell, " she actually had to swallow a slight lump in her throat, "you really are an awfully nice person, and I don't know how to thank you. Even if Geoffrey doesn't agree, "

"Why shouldn't he agree?"

"Well, " she boggled at the impossibility of putting into words the doubts which assailed her. For had not Geoffrey categorically said that he didn't like Franklin? And, in addition, if there had ever been anything between Sara and Geoffrey, was it quite right that Geoffrey should accept help from the man Sara was to marry?

"You mean, " said Franklin Lowell carelessly at this point, "that he doesn't like me and might not want to accept help from me?"

"Why, how did you know?" She was too much taken aback for polite concealment.

"That he doesn't like me?" Her companion was perfectly good-humoured about it. "One always knows, unless one is a fool. I don't much like him either, come to that, " he added, without rancour. "But then it isn't necessary that I should."

"Isn't it?" She looked nonplussed. "But why should you help him if you don't like him?"

"I've told you. Because I like you. And I admire his work."

Beverley noted the changed order of his reasons, and wondered just how much value one should set on academic admiration.

''If he were not marrying me, would you make the same offer of help?" she "enquired suddenly.

"No. I don't expect so. But don't split hairs about that, " he told her carelessly. "Think it over. There is no need to decide anything at the moment. But if you come to the conclusion that you like the idea, it can all be arranged. You can even, if you like, bring in an unknown benefactor, and not tell Revian who is putting up the money."

"I don't think that would be practically possible, " she said gravely.

"Anything is practically possible if one wants it sufficiently, " he retorted, with a touch of that almost arrogant good humour which is seen only in those to whom success comes naturally. "This is your place isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." In her eagerness and interest, she had hardly realized that they had arrived in Binwick and were how stopping before her own front door. "Thank you so much for so many things, " she turned, and held out her hand to him, "but most of all for this wonderful, unbelievable offer to Geoffrey."

"To you, " he corrected, but he smiled.

"Well, thank you, anyway. I hope I haven't taken up too much of your evening."

"No, of course not. I'm not doing anything except drive back home."

"Truly? Then you wouldn't, " she hesitated diffidently, "you wouldn't care to come in and see my mother, would you?"

"If you think she would like me to, of course."

"She would love it, I'm sure!" Beverley flushed with pleasure.

"I don't know why she should, " he said, with some amusement. But he got out of the car immediately.

"Because when you spend all your time in bed, it's always interesting to see new people, " Beverley explained. "Besides, you're a local personality. Rather like someone in a book, " she added a little naively.

This idea seemed to amuse him too, and very slightly puzzle him. But he followed Beverley up the garden path without any self-consciousness.

When Aunt Ellen opened the door to them, with an expression of half-offended astonishment, Beverley wondered if she had made something of an error in inviting Franklin Lowell in. But, to her amusement and a good deal to her surprise, he immediately turned on Aunt Ellen such a battery of charm that even she produced a wintry little smile and said she was sure her sister would be happy to see him.

There was, Beverley felt, something strangely exhilarating in the presence of this tall, good-looking, vital creature in then- small front room. And when she led the way into her mother's room, she saw reflected in Mrs. Farman's face something of her own rather breathless enjoyment of the impact of Franklin Lowell's personality on their quiet home scene.

He was completely easy in his manner towards her mother, and they liked each other on the instant, Beverley saw. Indeed, after a very few moments, he drew up a chair and sat down, evidently intending to stay for a time, while Beverley curled herself up at the end of the bed and prepared to enjoy her mother's pleasure in their unusual visitor.

It was surprising how much they found to talk about. But, as a girl, Mrs. Farman had known Eithorpe Hall and its surroundings well.

"I remember old Miss Eithorpe, " she said reminiscently. "But she wasn't old Miss Eithorpe then, of course. Only middle-aged and quite extraordinarily difficult. She was supposed to have been crossed in love, which was reckoned to account for all her eccentricities. But I don't know that I believe much in that sort of explanation. It's so easy to blame all one's disagreeable qualities on something in the past, isn't it?"

"Like the psychologists who claim that criminal behaviour in an adult is directly traceable to a well deserved hiding when one was ten, " suggested their visitor.

"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Farman looked at Franklin Lowell with almost affectionate approval. Then, after a pause, she said elliptically, "I think common sense is such a nice quality, don't you?"

"It's a wonderful basis for sympathetic understanding, " he agreed, with a twinkle. "Has, Beverley, " he hesitated only a second over her name, "told you that I have a picture of her when she was about twelve or thirteen?"

"Yes, indeed! It's Geoffrey's picture of her, isn't it? I'm so glad you have it."

"Why, Mrs. Farman?" he asked rather curiously.

"I'm not quite sure. Except that you would value it for its human, Beverley-ish qualities, and not just make a fuss about it for its artistic merits, I think. Besides, it's nice to think of anything so personal belonging to a friend, rather than a collector."

"You have the most charming way of paying compliments, " Franklin told her, with a laugh, as he rose to go. "I hope I may come and see you again."

"Please do. You will always be welcome, " Mrs. Farman said. And then Beverley went with him to the front door.

"Is there anything to be done for her?" he enquired, suddenly much graver than Beverley had seen him before. "She is so charming, and brave."

"I know. Everyone loves her. But, no, I'm afraid there isn't very much. I am sure she liked seeing you, though, and thank you so much for coming in."

"Thank you for asking me, " he said. Then he bade her goodbye and went out to his car.

As Beverley turned back into the house again, Aunt Ellen emerged from the kitchen and uttered the first expression of unqualified approval Beverley had ever heard from her.

"Now that, " she said, "is what I call a man!" Then she went back into the kitchen again, to see about supper.

CHAPTER SIX

DURING the next few days Beverley lived in a state of painful indecision. She kept on telling herself that few emotional problems are improved by being discussed at length, and that the heart-to-heart talk has accounted for more broken friendships and romances than almost anything else.

But the longing to speak frankly to Geoffrey, to ask him to define his exact attitude towards Sara was sometimes almost irresistible. To her innermost soul, she longed for some sort of reassurance, some statement from him which might possibly admit a one-time affection but which would also establish be yond all doubt that no feeling for Sara still lingered. And yet, suppose she did tell him of her doubts and fears, her conjectures and beliefs? If these were groundless, and if he had, in fact, never really re turned Sara's love, could anything be more embarrassing or undignified than the position she would then be in?

As for the other possibility, the much stronger probability, that he had indeed at one time loved Sara, what right had she to ask him to admit the fact? "It isn't even my business if he loved her once but doesn't any longer, " Beverley assured herself, with a splendid detachment which reached no further than words. "What's past is past. If it is all over, "

But there, of course, was the nib. Was it all over? Or did Geoffrey still hanker after the girl who was divided from him by practical circumstances? Was he, in fact, marrying herself, as second-best, in order to console himself for the loss of the girl he really wanted?

When she was actually with Geoffrey, Beverley was considerably reassured, for his manner to her was as affectionate and intimate as it had always been. It was when she was away from him that she questioned herself in tormenting detail about the real state of affairs. And, during the hours that she sat sewing in her light, pleasant room at the top of Huntingford Grange, there was all too much time to think things over.

Sara made no further reference to their revealing conversation. She remained polite and friendly al though, like her mother, not intimate. And she was undoubtedly as pleased as Madeleine with the completed dresses for Lady Welman's charity dance. In addition, like Madeleine, she expressed genuine and friendly interest in the fact that Beverley too was coming to the dance.

She did not ask if Beverley's fiancé would be accompanying her, but she must have passed on the news of the engagement, for Madeleine offered warm congratulations and said she supposed Geoffrey Revian, would also be at the dance.

Madeleine was far more expansive than her elder sister. She used to come and talk to Beverley quite a lot, sometimes about Beverley's affairs, as when she enquired about the engagement, but mostly about her own theatrical hopes and aspirations.

"It makes them seem more real when I talk to you about them, " she told Beverley. "I always remember the calm way you listened when I first told you I wanted to be an actress, and how you spoke as though anything were possible, if only one were sufficiently determined."

"Did I speak like that?" Beverley was amused. "I hope I didn't encourage you unduly in something quite unpractical."

"Oh, no. You merely gave me a new slant on how to look at one's ambitions, " Madeleine assured her. "I'm always thinking now of just how I might man age to have at least a year in London at the Academy. I'd know, after that, if I were really any good, and I think I'd abide by their decision."

Beverley said nothing, but reflected that few who are once bitten by the urge to act or sing ever accept the discouraging verdict of others. They are always going to give themselves just one more chance and one more year. However, her comments were not necessary. Madeleine ran on quite happily on her own steam.

"Of course, " she said, '"once Sara is married, with a flat in town, as well as Eithorpe Hall, things will be simpler."

"But is she going to have a flat in town?" Beverley looked up from her work.

"Oh, I expect so. In fact, yes, of course she must! Everyone wants that, " Madeleine-declared comprehensively. "Besides, think how useful it would be for us all."

Beverley wondered if this view had been presented, in so many words, to Franklin Lowell and, if so, what his reaction had been. But, whether it had or not, Madeleine's casual statement made it increasingly obvious that most of the Wayne family's hopes and plans did indeed depend on Sara's marrying well.

Toni, too, of course, learned very soon of Beverley's engagement, and she rushed into the room on her return from school, still panting from the rapid ascent of two flights of stairs.

"Is it true, Miss Farman?" she enquired, with dramatic brevity.

"Is what true?" Beverley looked up and smiled at her.

"Are you really going to many Geoffrey Revian?

"Yes. We've known each other' for a long time, you know." Beverley explained, in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could, "and now we have decided to get married."

"You aren't wearing a ring." Toni drew near and inspected Beverley's hand a trifle disapprovingly.

"No. He's having his grandmother's ring reset for me. He designed the new setting himself, and it's really lovely."

"Is it?" Toni stood and looked at her, and Beverley guessed that the little girl was busily sorting out some-awkward contradictions in her own mind. Then at last ' she said, "Miss Farman, "

"Yes, Toni?"

"You know what I told you about Sara and Geoffrey Revian, the first day you were here."

"I remember you did tell me something that was worrying you."

"Well, when I told you I saw them with their arms round each other, I guess 1 was mistaken."

"You mean you didn't see them, like that?"

Beverley could not quite disguise the eagerness in her voice.

"No, I don't mean that I did see them, but people do sort of hug each other for other reasons besides being in love, don't they?"

"I suppose they might." Beverley endeavoured to sound as though she were speaking quite academically. "But you also said that Sara was, crying."

"Maybe I was mistaken about that too, "' said Toni soberly. "Maybe she just had something in her eye."

"That's possible of course, " agreed Beverley, hoping that her tone carried more conviction to Toni than it did to herself.

"Anyway, I shall forget all about it now, " declared Toni, brightening immensely all at once. "If Geoffrey

Revian is going to marry you, there can't be anything between him and Sara, can there? And in that case it's all right for her to marry Franklin, and everyone will be happy."

Oh, blessed simplicity of youthful logic! Beverley wished with all her heart that she could feel the same happy conviction that all was now for the best in this best of all possible worlds. But at least Toni seemed unlikely to indulge in any more worrying on her own account, which was all to the good.

That evening Geoffrey gave her ring. They had been out together, climbing the beautiful rising moorland slope which lay beyond Binwick, and presently they sat down on the still warm turf, in the soft evening breeze, and looked back on the village, lying below in its sheltered hollow.

It was then that he felt in his pocket, with a slight, conspiratorial smile, and produced the ring in its new setting.

"Oh, Geoffrey, " she leaned over to look at it, so happy in its beauty and reality that almost the last vestige of her fears departed, "how wonderful! It's even lovelier than the sketch suggested."

"It's pretty good, " he conceded. "But then it's for a very special person." And, slipping the ring on her finger, he kissed her and said, "Now you're really mine."

"I always was, " said Beverley, gravely regarding her ring.

And at that he kissed her again and said,  "When are we going to be married?"

She had the most absurd impulse to say, "When I am sure that you don't love Sara Wayne better than me." But was this the moment to spoil with unworthy suspicions or suggestions?

He had asked her to marry him. He had given her this beautiful ring in token of the fact. And now he wanted her to choose the very date of their wedding.

What sort of cad would she be assuming him to be if she suggested at this point that perhaps he loved someone else? .

"Oh, Geoffrey, " she turned and hugged him in a sudden access of hope and confidence, "whenever you say. Except, " she added more practically, "that I must finish my work for the Waynes first. They're relying on me, and I couldn't let them down, even for my own wedding."

"Of course not, " he agreed, and she wondered if it were only her imagination which made his voice sound rather expressionless. "But is the one situation really dependent on the other?"

"Well, yes. Until Sara's wedding is over", he sat up suddenly, but she saw he was merely brushing a spider off his sleeve, "I'll be busy on clothes for her and her sisters. After that, I'd like some time to make a few things for myself. Even a dressmaker likes to have a trousseau, you know." And she laughed.

He laughed too, she thought quite gaily, though she could not quite see his face, as he had turned his head and was looking away down the hill.

"I'll put in some intensive work myself, meanwhile, " he declared lightly. And then she remembered Franklin Lowell's offer, and she thought this was as good a time as any for mentioning it.

"Geoffrey, " she tried to pick her words carefully, "would this be the right moment for you to have a London exhibition, if that were possible? To show your work, particularly your portrait work, to a larger public, I mean."

"Any moment would be the right moment, " he assured her, with a laugh and a shrug. "But you know as well as I do that it isn't a practical possibility. An exhibition, to be successful at all, requires quite a considerable outlay. And I think", he turned and touched her cheek lightly, "the expenses of getting married must come first."

"But if someone else paid the expenses, ?"

"Who else is going to?" He looked puzzled and amused. And then, at something in her expression he was suddenly alert instead of casual. "What do you mean?" There was a sharper, more eager, note in his voice,

"Franklin Lowell offered to pay the expenses of a London exhibition of your work, as a wedding present to us both."

"Lowell did?" Geoffrey frowned. "You're joking!"

"No, I'm not."

"But why should he make such an offer?" The colour came and went in Geoffrey's face, but whether with excitement or a sort of anger Beverley was not quite sure.

"He said it was because he admires your work and thinks I'm nice, " replied Beverley exactly. "He meant it very kindly."

"Nonsense, " said Geoffrey. "Men of Lowell's type don't go about doing unrequited acts of kindness. They expect something in return."

"Oh, that's not true!" cried Beverley angrily. "He's truly generous, and I think he likes making big gestures."

"Only so that he can pose as a fine fellow, and feel that other people are under an obligation to him."

"Geoffrey, how can you say such things? There was no suggestion of that at all. And, anyway, why should he want to have you under an obligation to him?"

"I tell you, because it makes him feel a fine fellow, " said Geoffrey. But he grinned at her suddenly and seemed to find the whole subject more amusing than annoying, after all. "I must say he has a very fiery champion in you." He pinched the tip of her ear. "I didn't know you were such friends."

"We're not, exactly. At least, he was interested to hear that I was the model for that picture he has. You know, the one of me in the blue and white dress. And, somehow, we got talking, from that point. And he and Sara took me over to Eithorpe to see it again. Then on the way home he asked about our future prospects, "

"With Sara there?" he asked carelessly.

"No, no. We had left her at Huntingford, because she had a bit of a headache and didn't want to drive any further."

"But she knew about our engagement?"

"Yes. I had told them both, while we were still at Eithorpe."

"I see. Go on."

"Well, then he said how much he admired your work, and that he was sure that a London exhibition would put you on the map, so to speak. I explained that this was rather beyond our immediate range, and he made the offer I've told you about."

"Just like that? out of the blue?"

"Yes. But he did add that there might be some difficulty in making you accept, as he realized you didn't like him, " remarked Beverley rather severely.

"He said that?" Geoffrey laughed.

"Yes. But he also said that it didn't matter, be cause it didn't alter his admiration of your work."

"Or his liking for you?" suggested Geoffrey shrewdly, but he smiled at her.

"He was kind enough to add that, " admitted Beverley demurely.

"In fact, the offer was more to please you than to, help me?" Geoffrey leaned forward and kissed her.

"All right, I don't mind. In fact, I suppose I'd rather have it that way."

"Why?" she asked curiously. But he did not answer her. He just sat there, frowning thoughtfully, and evidently turning over the offer in his mind.

"Geoffrey, you will at least consider it, won't you?" she said pleadingly. "It was so well meant."

"I am considering it, " he assured her. "Not, so much for the noble motives behind the offer as because it is something I've wanted for years. He's right, of course. With reasonable luck, it would alter, my whole position." A light of hope and excitement shone in Geoffrey's eyes. A light she had not often seen there, for life had not handed him many of these unexpected chances.

"Oh, darling, " she put out her hand and stroked his arm, "I wish you could have the break you deserve, at last."

"I wish I need not owe the possibility of it to Franklin Lowell, " he replied, with a slight face, but he put his hand over hers and pressed her fingers.

"Anyway, I shan't look at it that way. I'll consider that I owe the chance to you." He drew her against him and kissed her. "For the offer was made to you, for the very good reason that you're a darling."

She laughed and returned his kiss. This was not the moment to split hairs about the exact reasons which lay behind Franklin Lowell's offer. It was enough that Geoffrey seemed prepared to accept it. And his ring was on her finger. Beverley looked down at it now, spreading out her fingers, the better to see the sparkle of the stones and the curious and beautiful arrangement of the setting.

"It's the nicest ring anyone ever had, " she said.

"Be sure you wear it on Saturday at Lady Welman's dance. I want everyone to know we are engaged, " Geoffrey declared.

"But of course! I'll wear it always now, " Beverley declared. And although she did not know it, there was something almost defiant in her tone.

Then, as they got up to retrace their steps homewards, she said, "May I tell Franklin Lowell that the offer is accepted? I think he would like to know."

"Yes. Why not? But, " Geoffrey looked amused again, and just a little curious, "are you in regular contact with him? When are you likely to see him?"

."Oh, I don't know. Perhaps not until the dance. But if I do see him before then, I'd like to be able to say something."

"I leave it to you, " Geoffrey told her lightly. "It's between you and him. And, since I'm not a jealous or suspicious sort of fellow, I daresay it's better that way."

She smiled, because she knew that was meant to be a joke. But the words "jealousy" and "suspicion" had too personal a significance for her to find them really amusing.

Beverley had not really expected to see Franklin Lowell before the dance on the Saturday. But on Thursday evening there was a knock at the front door, and when she went to answer it, she found to her surprise that the master of Eithorpe Hall was standing outside with a basket of fruit in one hand and a raffia bag which seemed to contain a couple of plump chickens in the other.

"Hello, " he said. "I was passing this way and thought your mother might like these."

"But how kind of you!" Beverley pulled the door open wide. "Do come in, won't you? or are you in a hurry?"

He was not, it seemed, in a hurry, for he came in immediately. And as Aunt Ellen was standing in the kitchen doorway, somewhat open-mouthed at all this, he said, "May I bring these in?" and marched straight into the kitchen and deposited the fruit and chickens on her well-scrubbed table, much to her consternation. "Oh, really, " Aunt Ellen fluttered about, flicking non-existent dust off her bright pots and pans, "it isn't very fitting. The kitchen's in such a mess."

This was a palpable misstatement, since everything was always in apple-pie order wherever Aunt Ellen ruled. And, glancing round, Franklin remarked, "It all looks fine to me. I like a good cottage kitchen." And, sitting down on the side of the table, he swung one leg and smiled at Aunt Ellen, as though he found her young and beautiful.

Now, people often told Aunt Ellen how capable she was and how they didn't know what her sister and niece would do without her. But no one ever looked at her as though she were young and beautiful. And Franklin Lowell's smiling glance had the most extraordinary effect upon her.

She bridled slightly and coloured up, and then she said, in the softest and most friendly tone Beverley had ever heard from her, "Well, if you like it, you're welcome to stay in it, while I go and see if my sister's awake and ready to see anyone."

"Don't disturb her on my account, " Franklin said. But she had already fluttered off, with an air of wanting nothing more than to please the handsome male thing in her kitchen.

To his, lasting credit, he made no attempt to exchange a slyly amused smile with Beverley. He merely remarked, "Your aunt is very kind and hospitable."

"Yes, " agreed Beverley. And to her lasting credit, she did not see fit to add that Aunt Ellen was not always that way.

Instead, she took the opportunity to say, "I spoke to Geoffrey last night about your very kind offer."

"Oh, yes?" He shot her a bright, enquiring glance.

"And, though at first I think he had the feeling that he ought not to accept so much from anyone, " thus did she tactfully recast Geoffrey's early objections , "in the end he was unable to refuse such a wonderful, generous suggestion."

"Good!"

"I can't thank you enough." She held out her hand to him. "We can't thank you enough."

"You've done so already, " he took her hand and held it lightly in his for a moment. "You're a sweet child. We'll go into details about the whole scheme sometime next week."

"But we aren't being married for some while. There isn't any hurry, " she assured him.

"On the contrary, I think it's the kind, of present which is best given as soon as it can be arranged, " he replied. "If we can turn your Geoffrey into a successful and prosperous portrait painter before your wedding day, so much the better."

She laughed incredulously. "You make it all sound like something out of a fairy story, " she declared. And then Aunt Ellen came back to say that her sister was awake and would be very pleased to see him.

He stayed no longer than ten minutes, since it was obvious that Mrs. Farman had had enough visitors that day already. But, even so, he left behind him the strong impression that an energetic and kindly wind had blown through the house.

"It's to be hoped' that girl is good enough for him, " was Aunt Ellen's singular comment when he had gone.

"Who? Sara Wayne? She could hardly be prettier or more charming, " Beverley declared.

"Looks aren't everything, " replied Aunt Ellen, and it was obvious that she had returned to normal.

On Saturday evening, Beverley dressed for the dance with a light heart and a sense of excited anticipation. It was not often that treats of this kind came her way. And, although she had been so busy with dresses for the Wayne girls, she had still found time to make a new dress for herself.

It was of honey-coloured-organdie, almost the same shade as her hair, and through it ran a line of shining gold, which caught the light as the skirt spread in billowing folds from an incredibly slender waist-line.

"You look adorable my darling, " her mother declared, when Beverley presented herself for inspection.

"If I were a young man, I'd fall in love with you on sight No wonder Geoffrey wants to marry you. It was a lovingly prejudiced verdict, Beverley knew, but it put her in the most delicious state of content and did lovely things for her social morale. Then Geoffrey arrived, looking extraordinarily handsome in the unfamiliar grandeur of evening clothes, and his admiration was at least as gratifying as her mother s.

Geoffrey had, in Aunt Ellen's words, done the thin" properly, " and they had a hired car to take them to the hideous, but conveniently large mansion where Lady Welman's dance was to take place.

It was, as is usually the case at a charity dance quite a mixed gathering, but there were few people there whom Beverley knew, and she was pleased to be greeted with something like enthusiasm by the party from Huntingford.

Both the Wayne girls looked breathtakingly lovely in their new dresses and, with a certain amount of innocent pride, Beverley realized that their clothes were commanding almost as much attention as their charming selves. Sara was escorted by Franklin Lowell, of course, and Madeleine was partnered by her brother. , .

Beverley had not seen much of Andrew Wayne since that first afternoon, when he had driven her from the bus-stop to the house, and she strongly suspected that he could not quite remember who she was However, he firmly claimed acquaintance with her and evidently had no intention of being regarded as anything but an old friend. A tribute to her appearance which she found both amusing and exhilarating.

It was the most enchanting evening, so far as Beverley was concerned. Geoffrey, with whom she had hardly ever had an opportunity to dance before, proved to be an admirable partner, and she also found herself in demand with several other people, including both Franklin Lowell and Andrew Wayne. In fact, in a modest way, she was a success. A heady and delightful experience against which none of us are proof.

Half-way through the evening she was dancing with Andrew Wayne when he said to her, "You know, it wasn't until I had a chance to consult Madeleine that I really knew who you were. And I can't tell you how that tantalizing bit of mystery added charm to your presence."

"Thank you." Beverley smiled at him. "I thought you didn't recognize me. I hope the illusion isn't spoiled now you know me."

"On the contrary. I'm now intrigued to know how anyone so decorative can also be clever."

"Clever?"

"Well, you made those gorgeous dresses that my sisters are wearing, didn't you?"

"Oh, that? yes. I'm a good dressmaker. I don't know that I'd claim more." Beverley laughed.

"But you designed the dresses too, didn't you?"

"In a way, yes. They said what they wanted, and I turned their wishes into practical form."

"You know, you shouldn't be hiding your light under a bushel in a remote village, " Andrew Wayne declared earnestly. "You ought to start up on your own in town, "

"Without capital?" She smiled at him and shook her head.

"Well, then, you ought to team up with one of the big fabric firms, in some way." He expertly-swung her clear of a couple who seemed to be in some difficulties.

"That's more easily said than done, " Beverley told him, but she was aware of a glow of gratification that anyone should rate her work so highly.

"I'm going to speak to my uncle about you, " declared Andrew Wayne. "He's on the importing end of the line himself, but he has all sorts of connections. He's always telling me, in a cross sort of way, to prove my initiative and bring him in news of something or someone good in the trade. I'm going to tell him about you."

"No? Really? are you?" In her surprise and pleasure, Beverley almost halted, with the result that the clumsy couple, who were still trundling along in the rear, bumped into them, a heavy foot descended on the edge of her dress, and there was a small but ominous sound of tearing.

"Oh, excuse me!"

"No, it was my fault, I stopped, "

"I say, terribly sorry, any damage done?"

There was a flurry of excuses and apology, which dissolved as the couple were swept on again. But Beverley knew too much about the construction of her own dress not to realize that some running repairs had probably become necessary.

"I'm afraid I'll have to drop out for a few minutes."

"Why? Did that clumsy oaf tear your dress?" Her partner guided her skillfully to the side of the room.

"Only a few vital gathers at the waist." She laughed philosophically. "But I'll have to go to the dressing room and catch them up again. Too bad the conversation was getting extraordinarily interesting."

"We'll continue it later, " he assured her. "I remember exactly where we left off."

And then she slipped away upstairs to the improvised dressing-room where a severe but efficient elderly maid of Lady Welman's not only produced the necessary needle and thread, but insisted on doing the repair for her.

"I'm used to a needle and thread, madam, " she told Beverley, who refrained from saying that so was she.

"There!" The maid snipped off her thread neatly.

"No one will see it now. That's the sort of thing that happens at these mixed affairs, " she added primly, apparently under the impression that no one in good society ever stood on the hem of someone else's dress.

Beverley thanked her and ran downstairs again, meaning to return immediately to the ballroom. But suddenly, through an open doorway, she had the most beautiful glimpse of a moonlit garden. And, irresistibly attracted, she stepped outside, for a breath of the cool night air.

Before her stretched shadowy, tree-lined paths, curiously in contrast to the ugly house behind her. And, with the haunting lilt of a Viennese waltz drifting out from the ballroom, it seemed to Beverley that a nostalgic touch of glamour and charm added magic to the scene, Almost without thinking what she was doing, she began to follow one of the paths at random, reveling in the delicious freshness of the air after the heat of the ballroom. It was surprising, she thought, that more couples had not found their way out here too.

And then she saw that at least one couple had. For at the end of the path, out of the direct light of the romantic moon, stood two people clasped in each other's arms. The dress of the girl was unmistakable. Beverley had made it herself, and she could not fail to recognize it as belonging to Sara Wayne.

Well, if Franklin Lowell liked to make love to his fiancée in the garden, who could blame him? The night was significantly romantic.

Then the man raised his head, so that she saw him quite clearly for a moment. And it was not Franklin Lowell. It was Geoffrey.