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It was only a moment later that she saw for herself who the intruder was when she stepped on to the drive into full view, and Helen felt a surge of pity and apprehension when she recognized Tracey Owen. Even from here she could see the paleness of the young face and the dark rings that encircled her eyes, there was
a
look of desperation about her that was almost frightening. She put down her brush to go down to the girl; there was something very Wrong here that she felt needed her professional assistance, but even as she turned away her eye was caught by another movement and she saw Evan Davies stride into view from the direction of the house.

Helen drew her breath sharply as the girl flinched at the sight of him, almost as if he had struck her, indeed he looked very much as if he might for his face was clouded angrily with the all too familiar stubborn temper and the girl's desperate pallor seemed to affect him not at all. She could not hear the words that passed between them, only the murmur of voices, but she could sense the tension and anguish of the scene only too well.

She hesitated to go down now that he had appeared but she could not watch the girl's humiliation without raising a hand to help her; not that she for a moment suspected that Evan would use physical violence; that, she assured herself was out of the question. Suddenly and unexpectedly the girl darted towards the house, her flight evidently taking him by surprise for a moment or two, but before she disappeared from Helen's view, he caught up with her and gripped her wrists in a grip that must have hurt cruelly, pulling her to a standstill.

Helen could stand no more; she dropped the hairbrush on to the dressing table with a clatter and ran from the room. Straight down the stairs she went without pause and out of the open front door. The girl still struggled against the grip that held her and Helen could hear the low whimpering sound she made as she tried to free herself.

'
No, Evan!' She ran to the girl, defying the black look of anger that he gave her when she appeared. 'Let her go!' He hesitated only a second before he obeyed, clenching his hands at his sides, his anger glittering at them both now, and Helen felt her courage waver in the face of it. Tracey Owen almost collapsed against her and she put a steadying arm around the thin shoulders comfortingly. ‘She needs a doctor,' she said quietly now that she had achieved her object. 'We must get Doctor Neath for her.'

'
Why can't she just go away?' he said harshly. 'I don't want her in the house.'

She felt her own anger rise at the callousness of his words and faced him with her blue eyes blazing defiance, her arm still round the girl. 'If you won't have a sick girl in the house when she needs help,' she said scornfully, 'you might at least have enough compassion to have her taken home in the car. She's in no state to walk back to the village and she needs attention.'

For a moment he stood silently, then with one of his sudden movements he turned and went into the house. ‘Bring her in,' he called over his shoulder. 'I'll get Doctor Neath to come.'

Helen sighed her relief and even in the circumstances felt a certain pleasure that he had done as she asked. He was not, she felt sure, a callous man normally, and perhaps the sudden appearance of the girl had taken him so by surprise that he had not had time to realize how ill she was. He was using the telephone when Helen brought Tracey into the big sunny room and sat her in one of the armchairs, where she slumped wearily, her face streaked with tears.

When he came into the room he looked at the unhappy figure and there was something akin to pity on his face. 'I had no idea she was ill,' he said, and flicked a glance at Helen. 'Doctor Neath is on his way.'

'
Thank you.' She felt anything else would be out of place at the moment and she put a comforting hand on the girl's forehead. Without a word he turned on his heel and went out with Tracey's blank, tearful gaze following him as if she failed to understand his sudden change. 'Tracey!' She looked down at the drawn, pale face, speaking the name softly and the dark eyes turned and looked up at her.

'
You're the—nurse. Nurse—' she sought the name and failing to remember it, shook her head.

'
Gaynor,' Helen supplied with a smile of encouragement. 'Helen Gaynor; we met a few weeks ago, you remember?'

The girl nodded. 'I have to know about Emlyn,' she said, her eyes searching Helen's face as if she doubted her kindness. 'Is he any better, he won't let me see him.'

'
Mr Davies doesn't understand how much you worry about Emlyn,' Helen said gently. 'And you need not, you know. He's very much better and he'll be walking again before we know where we are.'

'Really ?' There was a flash of warmth in the blank eyes for a brief moment. 'I was worried, because of what I did to him.'

'You did nothing you can blame yourself for,' Helen told her firmly, 'and you mustn't worry about it.'

'
But I do.' The voice sounded flat, as if all her reserves of energy had been spent, and there was a naive sincerity in the words when she added: 'I love him, you see.'

'I know,' Helen said gently, her pity plain in her eyes. 'But first we have to get you both well, that's the most important thing at the moment.'

The girl's dark head nodded agreement, though it was doubtful if she grasped the full meaning of the answer, and Helen vowed that she would do something to enable her to see Emlyn; whatever objections Evan made. It was inhuman to treat her in such a cavalier fashion.

Doctor Neath arrived full of cheerful optimism and Helen breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled at Helen and looked at the other girl with a frown of mock reproach. 'What are you doing out so early, Tracey? I haven't even had my breakfast yet.' He chattered to the girl while he administered a sedative and shook his head over her pale face and thinness. 'There's nothing of you,' he told her. 'I think we'd better have you into the hospital for a while and feed you up, get you looking like a cream and roses girl again, hmm?’

‘The hospital?' Tracey looked startled and glanced at Helen in appeal.

'It will be best,' Helen assured her gently. 'Just until you're better and Doctor Neath is satisfied that you're a cream and roses girl again.'

For a brief moment a trace of a smile lit the pale face and Helen realized how pretty she must be when she was not ill and on the edge of a nervous breakdown as she was now.

'
Emlyn used to call me that,' she said softly.

'
I know he did,' Doctor Neath smiled. 'I've heard him, but you don't look like one at the moment, so you'd better get well before he sees you again, hmm?'

She nodded, not happy with the thought of going into the hospital but consoled somewhat by the mention of seeing Emlyn again. There was no sign of Evan when they went out to the doctor's car, Tracey walking between them, already calmer and almost sleepy with the injection he had given her. Helen watched the car out of sight down the drive before turning back into the house, the memory of her bravado in defying Evan stirring uneasily in her mind as she climbed the steps. Perhaps this time she really had gone too far and she would find herself dismissed without compunction. The thought of leaving Glyntarrach gave her no pleasure, in fact she felt heavy-hearted at the prospect as she climbed the stairs again.

She put on her cap and looked at her reflection in the long mirror thoughtfully, then shrugged as she moved away. It was no use crying over spilt milk, but oddly enough she felt rather like crying and not in sympathy with Tracey Owen either.

Emlyn was curious when she went into his room.

'What was all the kerfuffle I heard?' he asked. 'It sounded like Evan tearing into somebody.'

‘Oh, it was soon over,' she said casually. 'Nothing to worry about.'

'
Well, tell me,' he urged, and obviously had no intention of leaving the matter there.

'
Someone came to see you.' She would try to keep the incident as brief as possible and not make too much of it. 'Evan—your father objected to her being here, she's gone now.'

The dark eyes searched her face, suspecting that there was more to the incident than she had told him. ‘Tracey?' he asked, and added with a wry smile, ‘I might have known she would come sooner or later.'

‘She's been asking after you all along,' Helen informed him, feeling that her defence of the girl was justified, 'but your father wouldn't let her into the house.'

He arched his brows in surprise. 'Wouldn't he?' he said. 'I always thought he looked upon Tracey as the best of the bunch in my girl-friends.'

‘She's a very nice girl,' Helen agreed, 'but your father blames her for the accident, and you know how stubborn he can be. He's determined that she shan't see you again.'

'Poor Tracey.' He looked thoughtful for a moment and glanced at her, still suspecting that he had not been told the full story. 'Who else was here? I thought I heard a car and Doctor Neath's voice, but it couldn't have been—could it, Helen?'

She might have known, she thought, that he would miss nothing, and she came and stood by his bed, taking his hand, trying to judge if it was a wise thing to tell him about Tracey or not. 'Yes, it was Doctor Neath,' she said. 'He came because your father rang him. Tracey has gone into hospital for a rest, Emlyn, she'll soon be all right but she's made herself ill worrying about you.'

‘Of all the— How bad is she, Helen?' His dark eyes were almost as anxious as Tracey's and he looked nearly as vulnerable, Helen thought, remembering her reference to him last night as a boy.

'
She'll be O.K. after a rest,' Helen assured him. 'She's worried herself into a bit of a state and Doctor Neath thinks a rest will do her no harm.'

'
Silly kid,' was his only comment, and she wondered how much compassion there was behind it. There could be a lot more heartache in store for Tracey Owen, she thought, if she continued to love Emlyn as much as she did now. Emlyn was too resilient to stay downhearted for long, no matter how he might have felt about Tracey, and a moment later he shook his head as if to rid himself of the picture he had conjured up and grinned at her, his eyes glistening with mischief. ‘I'm feeling in top form today,' he informed her, ‘and when am I going to get my breakfast? I'm hungry!'

So much for worrying about Emlyn Davies, Helen thought, smiling ruefully; he could still summon an appetite for his breakfast.

She was later having her own breakfast this morning and in consequence found herself sharing the meal with Evan and not Mrs Beeley as she usually did. He was standing in the window when she came into the room, as he had been the first time she had seen him. Feet apart, arms folded, the blue smoke from the pipe curling up round his head as he gazed out at the mountain; looking immovable somehow, like the mountain he admired so much. He turned when she came in and for a moment she bore the black-eyed scrutiny without speaking.

'
I had to tell Emlyn about Tracey Owen,' she said at last. 'It was unavoidable, he heard the voices and he was curious, and I didn't think it was worth
lying
to him.' He made no answer, merely nodding, and she wished it was possible to guess what he was thinking behind that impenetrable gaze. 'If you want me to leave,' she added, 'I'm quite ready to.' It was not strictly true and she was perhaps anticipating something that could have been avoided had she kept silent, but she was feeling more nervous than she cared to admit now that she was face to face with him after the way she had spoken earlier.

For a moment he looked as if the question had not even occurred to him, his brows arched in query. '
Are
you leaving?' he asked.

'
I—I thought— If you want me to, of course.' She felt that she had started this conversation wrongly altogether. It had seemed so simple a thing, to give him the chance to dismiss her without too much fuss, and he had deliberately thrown the onus of the decision on to her. While she stood uncertainly he crossed from the window and stood in front of her.

'
It's not up to me,' he said quietly. ‘I can't stop you going if you really want to, but I'd rather you stayed at least until Emlyn is well enough not to be affected by your going.'

'I see. I thought perhaps after—'

‘I imagine that you did what you thought was right,' he interrupted. 'Fm not blaming you, but I won't have that girl here again, please understand that.' .

'
Not even if Emlyn wants to see her?' she asked, and he frowned.

'
Has he said he wants to see her?'

'No,' she admitted, 'but he was worried when I told him that she had gone to hospital and I think he's quite fond of her.'

'
Has she gone to hospital?' He looked surprised.

'Doctor Neath took her there. She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown from worrying about what happened to Emlyn. She loves him, you know.' What made her say that she could not imagine, unless it was to try and impress upon him the state of the girl's mind and how inhuman he had been to her, but there was no regret in his eyes, only a glint of stubbornness that matched the set of his jaw.

‘A childish infatuation,' he conceded. 'But it doesn't alter my decision; she can't come here again.'

'
It should be Emlyn's decision,' she told him crossly, fast losing patience with his obstinacy, ‘not yours!'

He walked across to the fireplace and knocked out the ashes from the pipe while she followed his movements impatiently. 'As Emlyn declares undying love for you, it's hardly likely that he'll be asking to see Tracey Owen, is it?' He turned and looked at her as he spoke and she shook her head, forced to admit that it was unlikely indeed. His rather scathing reference to Emlyn's feelings for herself she resented bitterly as a deliberate attempt to provoke her.

‘I've already explained about the way Emlyn feels about me,' she said. 'It won't last, I know that, but Tracey loves him very deeply, it's made her ill worrying about him and I don't think she'll change her mind, ever.'