“I don't know,” Hester said grimly. “Perhaps all we can look for now is sense. At least sense would stop it hurting quite so much.” She shrugged. “I cannot get young Valentine Furnival's face out of my mind's eye; the poor boy looked so wounded. As if everything the adult world had led him to believe only confused him and left him with nowhere to turn!”

Edith sighed. “Cassian is the same. And he is only eight, poor child, and he's lost both his parents in one blow, as it were. I have tried to comfort him, or at least not to say anything which would belittle his loss, that would be absurd, but to spend time with him, talk to him and make him feel less alone.” She shook her head and a troubled expression crossed her face. “But it hasn't done any good. I think he doesn't really like me very much. The only person he really seems to like is Peverell.”

“I suppose he misses his father very much,” Hester said unhappily. “And he may have heard whispers, no matter how much people try to keep it from him, that it was his mother who killed him. He may view all women with a certain mistrust.”

Edith sighed and bent her head, putting her hands over her face as if she. could shut out not only the light but some of what her mind could see as well.

“I suppose so,” she said very quietly. “Poor little soul- I feel so totally helpless. I think that is the worst part of all (his-there is nothing whatever we can do.”

“We will just have to hope.” Major Tiplady reached out a hand as if to touch Edith's arm, then suddenly realized what he was doing and withdrew it. “Until something occurs to us,” he finished quietly.

But nearly a week later, on June 4, nothing had occurred.

Monk was nowhere to be seen. Oliver Rathbone was working silently in his office in Vere Street, and Major Tiplady was almost recovered, although loth to admit it.

Hester received a message from Clarence Gardens in Edith's rather sprawling script asking her to come to luncheon the following day. She was to come, not as a formal guest so much as Edith's friend, with a view to persuading her parents that it would not be unseemly for Edith to become a librarian to some discreet gentleman of unspotted reputation, should such a position be found.

“I cannot endure this idleness any longer,” she had written. “Merely to sit here day after day, waiting for the trial and unable to lift a finger to assist anyone, is more than I can bear, and keep a reasonable temper or frame of mind.”

Hester was also concerned about where she herself would find her next position. She had hoped Major Tiplady might know of some other soldier recently wounded or in frail health who would need her services, but he had been extremely unforthcoming. In fact all his attention lately seemed to be on the Carlyons and the case of the general's death.

However, he made no demur at all when she asked him if he would be agreeable to her taking luncheon with Edith the following day; in fact he seemed quite eager that she should.

Accordingly noon on the fifth saw her in Edith's sitting room discussing with her the possibilities of employment, not only as librarian but as companion if a lady of suitable occupation and temperament could be found. Even teaching foreign languages was not beyond consideration if the worse came to the worst.

They were still arguing the possibilities and seeking for more when luncheon was announced and they went downstairs to find Dr. Charles Hargrave in the withdrawing room. He was lean, very tall, and even more elegant than Hester had imagined from Edith's brief description of him. Introductions were performed by Felicia, and a moment later Randolph came in with a fair, handsome boy with a face still soft with the bloom of childhood, his hair curling back from his brow, his blue eyes wary and a careful, closed expression.

He was introduced, although Hester knew he was Cassian Carlyon, Alexandra's son.

“Good morning, Cassian,” Hargrave said courteously, smiling at the boy.

Cassian dropped his shoulder and wriggled his left foot up his right ankle. He smiled back. “Good morning, sir.”

Hargrave looked directly at him, ignoring the adults in the room and speaking as if they were alone, man to man.

“How are you getting on? Are you quite well? I hear your grandfather has given you a fine set of lead soldiers.”

“Yes sir, Wellington's army at Waterloo,” the boy answered with a flicker of enthusiasm at last touching his pale face. “Grandpapa was at Waterloo, you know? He actually saw it, isn't that tremendous?”

“Absolutely,” Hargrave agreed quickly. “I should think he has some splendid stories he can tell you.”

“Oh yes sir! He saw the emperor of the French, you know. And he was a funny little man with a cocked hat, and quite short when he wasn't on his white horse. He said the Iron Duke was magnificent. I would love to have been there.” He dropped his shoulder again and smiled tentatively, his eyes never leaving Hargrave's face. “Wouldn't you, sir?”

“Indeed I would,” Hargrave agreed. “But I daresay there will be other battles in the future, marvelous ones where you can fight, and see great events that turn history, and great men who win or lose nations in a day.”

“Do you think so, sir?” For a moment his eyes were wide and full of unclouded excitement as the vision spread before his mind.

“Why not?” Hargrave said casually. “The whole world lies in front of us, and the Empire gets bigger and more exciting every year. There's all of Australia, New Zealand, Canada. And in Africa mere's Gambia, Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, South Africa; and in India there's the Northwest Province, Bengal, Oudh, Assam, Arakan, Mysore, and all the south, including Ceylon and islands in every ocean on earth.”

“I'm not sure I even know where all those places are, sir,” Cassian said with wonderment.

“Well then I had better show you, hadn't I?” Hargrave said, smiling broadly. He looked at Felicia. “Do you still have a schoolroom here?”

“It has been closed a long time, but we intend to open it again for Cassian's use, as soon as this unsettled time is over. We will engage a suitable tutor for him of course. I think a complete change is advisable, don't you?”

“A good idea,” Hargrave agreed. “Nothing to remind him of things best put away.” He turned back to Cassian. “Then this afternoon I shall take you up to the old schoolroom and we shall find a globe, and you shall show me all those places in the Empire that you know, and I shall show you all the ones you don't. Does that appeal to you?”

“Yes.sir-thank you sir,” Cassian accepted quickly. Then he glanced at his grandmother, saw the approval in her eyes, and moved around so that his back was to his grandfather, studiously avoiding looking at nun.

Hester found herself smiling and a little prickle of warmth coming into her for the first time on behalf of the child. It seemed he had at least one friend who was going to treat him as a person and give him the uncritical, undemanding companionship he so desperately needed. And from what he said, his grandfather too was offering him some thoughts and tales that bore no relationship to his own tragedy. It was a generosity she would not have expected from Randolph, and she was obliged to view him with a greater liking than before. From Peverell she had expected it anyway, but he was out on business most of the day, when Cassian had his long hours alone.

They were about to go into the dining room when Peverell himself came in, apologized for being late and said he hoped he had not delayed them. He greeted Hester and Hargrave, then looked around for Damaris.

“Late again,” Felicia said with tight lips. “Well we certainly cannot wait for her. She will have to join us wherever we are at the time she gets here. If she misses her meal it is her own doing.” She turned around and without looking at any of them led the way into the dining room.