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‘Miss Gaynor!' There could be no mistaking the voice, and the sound of footsteps scrabbled on the path to her right, but she still made no response, only waited, her head half turned towards the bend in the path, a strange sort of serenity in her heart that she made no attempt to analyse. ‘Miss Gaynor! Helen!' It must have been her imagination that made her think she could detect anxiety in the call, but she had decided to answer when he turned the corner and was in front of her in the length of two strides, looking down at her with the familiar frown between his brows, his breath as laboured as her own had been after the climb.

'
I was just going to answer,' she told him. 'I wasn't sure that you'd hear me before.'

'
Of course I'd have heard you!' He sounded out of temper as well as out of breath and she sighed at the inevitability of it,

‘Then I'm sorry,' she said, and added, prompted by heaven knew what, 'Were you worried about me?'

The question seemed to take him by surprise and for a moment he just stared at her, half angry, half curious. ‘Yes, I was,' he admitted at last, and glowered at her darkly, obviously resenting the admission. 'Why did you come up here at all? I saw you from the window and you were so long gone; I've told you these hills aren't safe when you're not used to them.'

'
It's not a hill, it's a mountain,' she argued childishly.

'
It doesn't matter which it is, it's as easy to fall from one as the other.'

‘Mmm,' she agreed absently, and pulled herself reluctantly away from the embracing rock, sitting forward to look at the scene below, now growing a little hazy as the light dimmed.

She had no desire to pursue the argument and was determined
not to have her pleasant state
of
mind dis
turbed by his arrival. '
This
is
a
lovely place,
isn't it?'
she said softly, her eyes on
the
distant village with
its
doll-like
houses
and
ribbon road
threading between them, 'I'd never realized before
just how
alone
it's
possible to be on
a
mountainside, and so incredibly tranquil.'

'
I'm sorry
I
disturbed your tranquillity,' he said, still ungracious, though he sounded a bit less out of humour than he had at first and she glanced at the darkness of his face, watching her before she rose from her seat and walked to the very edge of the path, looking down over the steep drop into the valley. It looked an awe-inspiring fall from here and for a brief, heart-stopping second her head spun dizzily and she put a hand to her forehead. She felt her arms gripped suddenly and painfully and she was pulled back hard against him so that she gasped for breath. He held her firmly for a second or so and she could feel the trembling of his hands on her arms and the frantic pounding of his heart as loud as her own. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder.

'
What did you think I'd do? Fall over?' It was as if she had laughed in his face, for he hurriedly withdrew his support and stepped back, looking as embarrassed and awkward as a schoolboy. She stood for a moment wishing she had not been so ungracious about it, adding belatedly, 'Thank you.' She
had
felt her head spinning and it could have been dangerous, standing as she was on the very edge of the path. His action had been as quick and alert as when he had saved her from another fall earlier and she should have been grateful to him, not treated the matter as if it was of no importance.

'
It's dangerous so near the edge,' he said, as if to explain himself, running a hand through his hair nervously. ‘If you're not used to it you could slip over, and you looked as if you were dizzy for a moment. I'm sorry if I startled you.'

‘No, please don't apologize,' she begged. 'It's I who should be sorry for being so ungrateful, I was a bit dizzy for a moment and I could have fallen. I'm sorry, and thank you.' She moved back to her rock seat again and looked up at him, dark and tall against the dying sun. 'Why did you follow me?' she asked curiously, and he moved to stand near her, one foot on the rock that formed the arms of her throne, watching her in that disconcerting way as if he knew what she was thinking.

'
I've told you,' he said quietly, 'it's dangerous up here on your own when you don't know the place; you see what happened just now; if you'd been alone you'd probably have gone over.'

She shuddered. 'I know, and again I'm sorry I was so ungrateful when you've probably saved my life.'

He smiled, wryly she had to admit, but it was a smile. 'I wouldn't make it as dramatic as that,' he said, 'but I'm only glad I was here.'

'Oh, so am I,' she assured him, and added, 'especially as I'm indispensable to Emlyn's recovery.'

To her surprise he did not become angry as she expected him to and as he had a right to, she realized, but he leaned back against the rock beside her, his eyes on the scene below as he talked. 'Perhaps that wasn't a very flattering thing to say, but it does happen to be true; I'm sorry if you took exception to it.'

'I didn't really,' she admitted, 'and Emlyn agrees with you wholeheartedly, so he says. Anyway, I'm not indispensable. No one is, are they?'

'I don't know,' he confessed surprisingly. 'It's possible that to one particular person another is indispensable, as you are to Emlyn; he would never make so much effort to get well if it weren't for you, I'm certain of it.'

She shook her head, albeit rather uncertainly. 'I think Emlyn has too much desire to live normally again. He would make the effort whether I was here or not, but he may possibly make more fuss about it.'

'He's very fond of you, you know; I don't know that he's quite so much in love with you as he professes to be, but he is certainly fond of you.'

She nodded, looking down at her hands twined together in her lap, the fingers restless as she sought for words.

'
He says he wants to marry me,' she said slowly. 'It was none of my doing and certainly not with my encouragement, but he insists that when he's on his feet again he'll ask me to marry him. I want you to know that, and I want you to understand that I had no intention of things happening the way they have.' It seemed very important that he should understand about her and Emlyn and not blame her for the situation as he had before. She could feel the black eyes watching her, though she did not look up.

'
And will you marry him?' he asked quietly.

'
No.' She shook her head. 'But I tried to tell him that and he won't listen and since you asked me not to let him know how little I cared for him, I thought it best not to be too adamant again for the present until he's well enough for it not to matter so much.'

'
I'm grateful to you; he's very used to having his own way, I'm afraid, and it's probably my fault, I spoiled him as a child. Doctor Neath says I did, and he's right about most things.'

Helen smiled at the admission. 'He's a very wise man, but I'm sure you've nothing to reproach yourself with as far as Emlyn is concerned. He's a very nice boy.'

'
Boy?' he echoed looking down at her curiously. 'Is that how you think of him, as a boy?'

She laughed, wondering why she had used that rather belittling way of referring to his son. 'l\suppose I do sometimes,' she admitted. 'It's not only that I'm several years older than Emlyn, but there's the difference in temperament.' She remembered Doctor Neath's reference to Emlyn's lack of responsibility and wondered if his father would take responsibility for that failing too.

'
Emlyn can be erratic at times,' he admitted. 'It's his—' He stopped as if he found it difficult to go on and she looked up at him. The black eyes looked even more impenetrable in the evening light and she found it less difficult than usual to meet them. 'How much do you know about—about Emlyn's mother?'

The question was totally unexpected and she could find no hasty answer, but sought instead for something that would not make it sound as though she had pried into his family affairs from sheer curiosity. 'I only know that she died when Emlyn was born,' she said at last.

'
And that she was only sixteen?'

'
That too,' she said softly. 'It was very tragic, for both of you. I met Alun Howell,' she added by way of explanation, and he frowned.

‘Howell told you about Dilys?'

'Oh, no,' she said hastily. 'I was rather puzzled when he asked after Emlyn and claimed to be his uncle. I found it difficult to—to believe.' She looked at him to see how he was taking her explanation and to her relief saw no further signs of anger after that initial frown. 'It seemed so unlikely that there could be a relationship that Owen told me about—your wife. I had no intention of prying, it was just that Mr Howell seemed so— different.'

'
It was inevitable that you would hear sooner or later while you stayed here.' He looked out across the now almost dark valley and she sensed an indefinable sadness about him that was more in keeping with the man who wrote the books she so admired than any other facet of his character she had yet seen.

'
You did very well to bring Emlyn up as you did on your own,' she said softly. 'My father was left with me when I was only a schoolgirl and I know how difficult it can be for a man alone with a child to care for.'

He was silent for a moment. 'You miss your father a lot?' It was more statement than question, and she nodded.

'
Yes, I do; but not quite so much now as at first. Doctor Neath was right about me coming here; about me getting away from all the places that reminded me of my father. I can talk about him now, whereas I couldn't when I first came here, not without an awful cold sensation every time he was mentioned. I used to feel sorry for myself.' She realized that this was the most she had ever said to him about her father, indeed more than she had said to anyone, and the fact that it was him she spoke to surprised her most of all.

She left her seat on the rock once more and stood beside him for a moment before walking almost to the edge of the path, more cautious this time, especially as the light was going fast now and the sun barely more than a disc on the horizon. 'It doesn't help to feel sorry for yourself, does it?' he asked, and she shook her head, smiling wryly.

'It doesn't help at all,' she admitted, 'but it doesn't stop people from doing it and I don't suppose it ever will.'

He left the support of the rock and moved to stand beside her. 'It's getting dark,' he said quietly, and led the way to the curve in the path that led downwards, less inviting in the almost dark and looking far more steep as they started down. He held out his hand to help her over the loose rock that crunched under their feet, his fingers firm and reassuring. 'We'd better go, it can be dangerous up here after dark.'

It was more dull next morning when Helen awoke, and she sighed; perhaps the weather had broken at last and they would have no more sunny days. It had been remarkably lovely almost all the time she had been at Glyntarrach and she had hoped that it would last for a while yet. She stretched lazily and lay for a moment pleasantly aware that she had no need to hurry. She turned her head and looked at the clock on the bedside table. Perhaps it was time she was getting up or her patient would be getting restless and anxious for his breakfast; his incapacity had done nothing to lessen his appetite.

While she dressed the sun at last showed itself and she smiled to herself. Perhaps it would be another nice day after all; the only trouble was that she would not be able to spend it in the sunshine with Owen Neath or even be able to go out on her own. Being a lady of leisure, she decided wryly, was an all too easily acquired taste.

She looked around the room as she dressed and thought how different it seemed to her now than it had when she first saw it. The dark green walls were still dim in the morning light, for the sun did not reach this side of the house until evening, but they seemed less gloomy and she loved the feel of the tapestry bedspread under her fingers when she awoke in the mornings. It had become something familiar and she would be sorry to leave it, she knew, when the time came for her to finish at Glyntarrach.

She finished dressing and spent a long time brushing her hair, not because of any conceit she had for its undoubted beauty but because the even, regular strokes of the brush had a soothing effect and it gave her time to think, even to daydream, and she felt unusually like daydreaming today. She wandered to the window, pulling the hard bristles through her hair. From here she could see the length of the garden at the front of the house and right down the drive to the big double gates at
the end.
The neat gravel drive was bordered with grass
and
flower beds and tall trees had been closely planted to screen
the
house, so many of them that they were almost a small wood.

She paused briefly in her brushing for a moment,
her
hand still holding the brush poised above her
head. She
was certain that she had seen a movement
among the
trees and yet she could not be sure. She watched
for a
moment and then shrugged away the idea. Even if
she
had seen a movement it did not mean that there
was
anything untoward about it; it was probably no
more
than Dai Hughes returning from some expedition of his own and making his entrance in this unorthodox way to avoid detection.

She was about to turn back with a smile at the thought when something caught her eye again and she stayed where she was, curious to know whether it was Dai Hughes or not. Definitely someone was moving among the tall ash trees along the left-hand side of the drive and there was something furtive about the movements. Whoever it was was trying to make quite sure that they were not seen. As she watched, a figure moved from the shelter of the trees and among the lower-growing shrubs that fronted them, but she was still unable to determine who it was or even whether it was male or female.