But for all that, he did not speak with bitterness about his family or his childhood. Somehow a natural sunniness of nature had carried him through unscathed. But he was restless. Life did not have much in the way of challenge to offer a younger son. He wanted to enlist, but his father had steadfastly refused to buy him a commission.

Elizabeth had parted from him at the end of supper to dance with other partners. She would not, she reflected now, have been heartbroken if she had never seen him again. It had certainly not been a case of love at first encounter. But she remembered feeling a pleasant hope of meeting the charming, fair-haired man again. She had thought they could become friends.

Elizabeth became conscious of her own reflection again. How she wished now that they had not met again! Or did she? Someone somewhere had said that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Did she agree? She was not quite sure. But she did know that if she arrived at the dinner table with unwashed hair, someone might think to comment on the fact.

She rang the bell and instructed the maid to bring several jugs of hot water.

Elizabeth finally calmed herself that night by deciding that she need not see Hetherington again. It was true that he was a house guest at Ferndale for an undetermined length of time, true too that there was almost certain to be some social interchange between the Rowes and the Ferndale party. But she need not be a part of any of the meetings. She was a mere servant. And even though she was Cecily's companion, she guessed that Mrs. Rowe would herself be anxious to accompany her daughter to any social functions that might arise from the new arrivals. Elizabeth's presence, then, would be superfluous. She went to sleep comforted by her thoughts.

Two days later she did not feel so hopeful.