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then added, 'Aren't you well?'Victoria made no reply. She had not taken the extended hand but she walked past Bridget and into the hall, where she stopped for a moment as if surprised at the emptiness.

Then she moved on to the open door of the drawing-room and she had walked to the middle of it before she again stopped and her body gave a visible shudder. And at this, Bridget said, 'Yes, it is cold, isn't it?'

She didn't go on to say, Tm very cold, too. You're almost half an hour late; I was on the point of going;'

instead, she said, Tm sorry there are no seats, but come and sit on the window sill.' It was as if she were addressing an acquaintance . . .'I don't need to sit on the window sill.''What is wrong, Victoria? You . . .

you look ill.''Are you surprised?''Yes, I am surprised. And why are you taking that tone with me?''My answer to that is, why did you wish to see me?''Well, because . . .'

393'Please don't bother lying. I know why you wished to see me. You want to know the reason why your solicitor has been informed that the price you offered to get rid of me has now been refused.'Bridget actually gasped as she stepped back from her, and it was some seconds before she could find words to say. 'Me! get rid of you? What was done was for your happiness, nothing else. If he had turned you down then, like the silly romantic girl you were at that time, you would have pined and gone into decline.

You were crazy about him and I couldn't bear to see you unhappy . . . Get rid of you? How could you think such a thing!''I can think such a thing because, as he said, and he was solid and sober when he said it, not drunk as he was the night before, that I had only to use my sense . . . that is if I had any, and ask myself why my cousin would pay a man two thousand a year if it wasn't to get me off her hands. All that business about caring and wanting my happiness was merely a cover, because you could no longer put up with my . . .' She closed her eyes tightly and turned about.]

394Bridget did not go to her; she did not move; but the words she said now were coated with bitterness:

'And you believed him, after all my years of caring for you? And I wasn't a sister or a cousin to you, I was a mother, and I loved you like a mother. Yes, like a foolish mother I spoiled you. That is the only thing I regret, that I let you go on being a silly girl, with not a serious thought in your head, laughing your way through life.''Well, I'm no longer a silly girl.' Victoria had swung round; and her voice was loud and strident now as she cried, 'You can take comfort from that, I've been turned into a woman overnight. I don't think I'll ever laugh again. As for silly thoughts, there'll never be any room in my mind again but for hate. Do you hear that? Because I've been used by you, and him, and because of that I've had to suffer the contempt of servants. What is more, I am carrying a child, and if I could split my stomach open at this moment I would drag it out. Do you hear? Do you?'Bridget stood open-mouthed. She was astounded.

She could not believe with her ears or her eyes that this girl, her cousin whom, 395as she said, she had mothered and loved dearly, could have changed into this bitter, even vicious-tongued woman. It was impossible to credit. Something terrible must have happened back there in that house to bring on a change like this. It wasn't only the fact of him refusing the money, it was the reason behind it. Why had he refused it? And why had he turned on her and thrown the reason at her for taking it in the first place? Why?She made her voice remain calm and soft as she said, 'Don't talk like that, Victoria, because no matter what happens you will have the comfort of your child. At the present moment you are ill and I don't know the real cause of it. It can't be just the revelation about the money; there must be something else. What is it? Tell me, what is it?'For a moment Bridget saw the old Victoria emerge as a puzzled look came on her face and she said, 'I don't know what happened before. They had been fighting in a dreadful way, both bleeding, all cut.' . 'Who? You mean, Douglas and him?''Yes, Douglas and him.''And you don't know what it was about?''No.' Her words came slowly now. 'I don't 396know what it was about. I only know, from the sight of them, they meant to kill each other; and I wish they had. Oh, I wish they had.'There was the woman back, the new woman. And now Bridget listened to her as she went on, 'You said I'd have the comfort of a child. Who wants the comfort of a child when they're no longer a wife? Spurned, thrown aside, openly, in front of his father and Douglas.

But that was when he was drunk.' And now she looked away down the long empty room and, her voice dropping, she said, 'But not the next morning. I have been lonely for months, and I wouldn't believe what my senses were telling me. But he translated my doubts and suspicions into cold facts. And do you know something, Bridget? He wanted to know if I would like to return to the comfort of your protection. He was quite willing that I should. And you know what I told him?' She raised her head now and looked up at the decorated ceiling as she went on, 'I think it was at that point I changed. I practically saw myself change as I said to him words to the effect that he had been paid for me, and if he chose to return 397the payments that was his business, but I was his wife and although I wouldn't let him lay a hand on me as long as I lived, I would remain in that house and be mistress of it. And he would have to provide for me and the child.' She now looked down at Bridget again as she went on, 'What I should do is put the finishing touches to my bold effort and say, as he had done, I am going to refuse the two hundred and fifty a year you allow me. But the silly girl has gone and the woman knows she'll likely be very glad of that money before life finishes with her,'Her head drooped onto her chest, and for a moment Bridget thought she was going to burst into tears, and she was about to step towards her when the voice checked her, saying, 'Don't swamp me with your sympathy, Bridget; I couldn't bear it. I shall try to believe that what you did for me you thought was for the best. Through time I shall likely come to see it that way, but at the present I am bowed low with humiliation. Yet, at the same time I'm filled with a feeling that frightens me. I can't call it courage, or determination, I only know that I want to live in order to retaliate.*

398She now lifted her head and stared at Bridget, and Bridget muttered, 'Oh, my dear, my dear Victoria, it is agonizing to see you in this state. And you may come back at any time. You know that.''I never shall, Bridget. Never. Part of this strange feeling tells me I ... I'll stay in that house until it crumbles around me.'She now turned and walked towards the hall, and Bridget followed her, but before opening the door to let her out, she said, 'You'll have Douglas. He is a kind man, and . . .''Douglas left this morning, for good, with three suitcases . . .''Where has he gone?''I don't know.'Bridget opened the door, but Victoria didn't immediately go through it; she turned and looked around the empty hall, then stepped out onto the terrace and again stopped. And here, looking straight into Bridget's face, she said, There is nothing as dead as dead love, for the sad thing is there's nothing left to bury, nothing, when it's been shot into smithereens.*All the years they had been together they

1399had never had a conversation that reached any depth, nor could she ever remember her making a cryptic remark.Shot into smithereens.She watched the woman untie the horse, climb into the trap and drive away, all the while looking straight ahead, and into what?

It was nearing Christmas, but Bridget asked herself, 'What did it matter?' For the past few weeks she had made herself keep, as near as possible, to routine. On a Wednesday, she had gone by train to Gateshead and visited the blacking and the candle factories. Every Thursday afternoon found her in Newcastle, in the office in Northumberland Street, going over the week's takings with her manager and agent, Arthur Fathers, and discussing with him and the four rent collectors the need for repairs or purchase, or, in some cases, demolition.Friday, too, she would be in Newcastle seeing Mr Kemp. This part of the business week she usually enjoyed, because he was a fatherly man, and kindly, and he knew all about her, as he had done about Victoria,i

401until recently. These latter visits, however, had been less enjoyable in that her enquiries were centred on the Filmores, and little fresh nowledge of that situation had emerged, only that Lionel Filmore's name was being openly associated with that of Mrs Barnett; they had been seen dining together on several occasions. About Douglas there seemed to be no information. To use Mr Kemp's own words, that young man had apparently entirely disappeared. Probably, he had left the country.There was a thin sleet forming as, after leaving the station, she made her way to Northumberland Street. She had felt it unnecessary to take a cab from the station for such a short distance, for her destination today was her agent's office. She walked well away from the kerb and close to the shop fronts, because the traffic on the road was thick and consequently the mud was being sprayed onto the pavement. It was as she was passing the door of a tobacconist's shop, her head bent, her eyes directed towards her feet and ankles, the latter well exposed, as she was holding her skirt up away from the 402wet pavement, that a hand caught at her arm and a voice said, 'Oh, I'm sorry, madam.*When she looked up at the man who, on leaving the shop, had dunched into her, she said in surprise, 'Oh, hello, Bright.*'Good afternoon, madam. I'm , , . I'm sorry. I nearly had you over. Pardon me.''Oh, I wasn't looking where I was going. I-' She glanced towards the road now, saying, *I should have taken a cab but I wanted some fresh air.' And she laughed, 'All I've got is mud.'She stepped back into the shop porch, saying now, 'You are well out of your way today, Bright, aren't you?''Yes, madam, I'm doing a little shopping. I ... I like a little tobacco'-he turned his head and nodded towards the bottled-glass door of the shop, then added, 'and I purchase a few cigars for the master.' He did not go on to say, 'And such an errand is very humiliating when, at one time, the shop would have been pleased to send them by the box.''How are things at . . . THer voice was cut off as a customer pressed between them. And when he had

403opened the door and another customer emerged from the shop she stepped back onto the street.

'Would you care to have a coffee?' she asked him.'I should be honoured, madam.'There's a good coffee shop further along, let's make for that.' She smiled widely at him, and he, gallantly placing his hand on her elbow and taking up his position on the outer part of the pavement near the kerb, assisted her, as if she were a delicate lady, to ease between the passers-by until they came to the coffee shop. And there, in the warmth and aroma, he pulled out a chair that was placed against a small round table, inviting her to sit before seating himself opposite.The conversation from then on, at least until they had drunk half the cups of steaming coffee, concerned the merits of coffee and the pleasantness of this room, and how interesting Newcastle was, and had he ever walked through it on a Sunday when it was, or seemed to be, deserted?It was only after a lull in the small talk that she asked quietly, 'How are things at the house, Bright?''Oh, miss-' The man now took hold of

404the handle of his cup and began to trace its shape between his finger and thumb before he said further, 'I wouldn't know where to start, miss, to describe the change.' \ 'My co ... Mrs Filmore, how is she?' He was looking straight across the small table and into her face as he said, 'I've witnessed some changes in people in my long career, first a boot boy, then a hall boy, leading to footman, and finally to my present station, and during that time, to use an expression, many people have passed through my hands in that I have helped them off with their outdoor apparel, but never, never have I witnessed such a change as in the young mistress. To put it plainly, Miss Mordaunt, when she came as a bride into that house just a matter of months ago, she appeared a bright, yet shy, reticent young woman. In fact it was the opinion of the staff that she would never learn to rule it because she made so many mistakes. She wanted to take over the housekeeper's post, you know. Apparently she had run your establishment and, I should imagine, well, and I'm sure your own staff obeyed and respected her, but you see, our people have worked under dif-405ferent rules for years, and I won't say they ignored her commands, but they went about things as they always had done. And they have managed very well, too, I would say exceedingly well since the staff was depleted some years ago. So, that was the situation she found, and I don't think it was a happy one for the mistress, but, nevertheless, she still seemed to remain herself. That was up to the night when Master Douglas and Master Lionel indulged in that unfortunate exchange which came to blows, and could have been fatal for one or other of them had the master not intervened. I think it was metre than unfortunate that the mistress should hear the maids chattering as they crossed the gallery because she came downstairs and . . . dear, dear! whatever happened in the library caused her to faint. But-' He now lowered his head and remained silent until she said, 'Yes, Bright? Please go on. Tell me all you know.'The man's voice was low now as he said, 'Well, Miss Mordaunt, the following moreing there were words which I overheard. I ... I sent the maids down from upstairs, but such was the commotion that I could not 406help but overhear. And I must tell you, miss, I was ashamed of Mr Lionel, but at the same time amazed at the unexpected spirit with which the mistress met his verbal onslaught, for onslaught it was. So, knowing the situation, I fully expected the mistress . . . well, we all, miss, fully expected the mistress to pack up and return to your care. But no; we couldn't have been more surprised in the change in that young girl. And the change, I'm afraid, has not diminished but has increased, so much so that Mrs Pullman has left. She was ready for retirement, I know, but she also knew, unfortunately, she would have no pension. Still, she had been a saving, caring woman, and she was intending to spend the rest of her life with her sister, that was after she herself should decide to go; but . . . well, we couldn't believe it when the mistress indicated that the duties of a housekeeper were unnecessary: whatever had to be done in that way, she would see to it. And, dear, dear, dear! she said that Mrs Pullman didn't do any actual work; which, of course, was quite right because as a housekeeper, ordinary work didn't come into her duties: her work was to see to the running of the house;