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"A child's a child, a rabbit's a rabbit. You should know that."

The two girls were facing each other now and like a flash Isabelle's arm went up, the gold-headed walking stick with it, as she cried indignantly, "You dare answer me back!"

Even Clive couldn't believe his eyes at what followed, for he saw the girl reach up, grab Isabelle's arm and wrench the walking stick from her grasp. Then in one movement she seemed to fling the stick and Isabelle aside. The stick went hurling into the brambles and Isabelle followed it, if more slowly;

three stumbling steps backwards and she fell headlong into the thicket.

Then the girl, stooping quickly, gathered the child into her arms and turned and fled along the path.

When he pulled Isabelle to her feet there was a streak of blood across one cheek where a bramble had caught it, but she was unaware of this.

She stood with her joined fists pressed tightly together at the front of her waist, staring along the drive where in the far distance she could see the girl still running. Without moving her gaze from the figure, she demanded, "Why didn't you do something, stop her? She struck me. She'll be brought up for this."

"Don't be silly. Belle. She didn't strike you, she only defended herself."

She now turned on him in fury.

"You dare to take her part, that scut, that scum! She knocked me down." She put her hand up to her cheek that was now beginning to smart, then looked at the blood on her fingers before thrusting her hand in front of his face, crying, "Lookl" When he made no response she cried, "Well, if you won't get her, I will." And pulling her skirt well up over her ankles she raced down the driveway; and after a moment he followed her, protesting, "Don't be such a fool, Belle. Belle, do you hear?"

So quickly did she run that he did not catch up to her before they reached the North Lodge gates, and as he came panting to a standstill he heard her cry at the lodge keeper "You let them through! You knew Aey were trespassing."

"Aw, Miss, and young Sir." He nodded at Clive.

"She was out through the little gate in a twinkling." He nodded to where the iron gate at the side of the big gates stood open.

"I couldn't have stopped her if I would."

"Who is she?"

When the lodge keeper rubbed his hand hard over his mouth she cried at him, "Who is she? Tell me this instant."

"Well, Miss," he said solemnly now, "her name be Brodie. But she's more to be pitied than laughed at. Her parents died of the fever a short while back and she was turned adrift from her house in the hamlet, and she lives now with the children, nine of them, so I hear, on the open fells."

When the lodge keeper saw the young master shake his head as if in disbelief he sensed acertain sympathy from him and addressed his remarks to him only now, saying, "

"Tis a sad case, young Sir; but there are many likewise."

dive's attention was taken from the lodge keeper now and he cried to his sister who was making for the gate, "Where are you going?"

She answered him over her shoulder, "Come and find out." And running across the rough road she made for a rise in the ground opposite the gates that would give her a view of the lower land.

From the top of the high ground she saw the girl walking now, the boy by her side, towards an outcrop of rock in the far distance, and she took note of the location before turning about and joining her brother, who was making his way slowly up the hill towards her.

It was late the same evening when she returned from a lone ride to be greeted by Clive, who demanded, "Where have you been? Father's been asking for you."

"Has he?" She pulled off her long soft leather gloves as she mounted the steps to the house, saying, "That's very fortunate because I want to see him."

"Where have you been?"

"For a ride."

"You haven't been after that girl?"

When she turned her head towards him but didn't speak he put in quickly, "Now, Belle, I won't stand with you in this. She didn't strike you, but on the other hand if you had brought that stick down on her, the mood you were in, you could have killed her."

Ignoring his remark, she said, "Where's Father?"

"Where he always is at this time of night."

On this she left him, throwing her gloves and crop on to the hall chair as she made for a door at the far end of a short passage leading from the hall. She paused for a moment outside the door, then knocked, and when her father's voice came to her she entered the room.

Lord Fischel was surrounded by books. Each side of the large desk was piled with them, three walls of the room were lined with them. His main occupation in life was reading, and his main interest was astronomy. He raised his head and looked at his daughter. Then the muscles of his face gave a nervous twitch as he said, "Ah, yes. Come in. Sit down, Isabelle."

She walked slowly across the room, but she didn't sit down. Standing at the edge of the desk she startled him by immediately asking, "Who owns the land that runs along by the park on the east side of the North Lodge?"

"Land?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You mean the open land, the fells?"

"Yes."

"It's common land."

"You have no say about it?"

He shook his head, then gave a wry twist of a smile.

"Not as yet."

"Are people allowed to live on it?"

"Being common land, yes, in certain circumstances, like camping. And they can graze their animals."

"Can they build houses?"

"Build houses on the fell?" He brought himself round to face her more squarely.

"Not unless they've obtained a tenure and have deeds to that effect.

Why do you ask?"

"I saw people building there."

"What kind of people, squatters or workmen?"

"It's a family ... there's" -she stopped herself from saying "a girl"

and added, "There's a woman doing it."

"Oh." He turned his attention to the desk again.

"Likely squatters erecting a shelter. But as long as they don't dig foundations they're within the law, and anything without a foundation won't stand the winds of the winter up there." He gave a wry smile at the futility of such wasted effort and now he said again, "Sit down, Isabelle."

When she had seated herself he did not look at her, but picking up a plain-handled pen he drew a star on the paper to his hand before he said, "I'm afraid I've some very disappointing news for you. You will not be able to go to London as arranged."

The impact of the words stunned her for a moment, and then she was on her feet again, demanding, "But why. Father, why?"

And when, his face still turned from her, he said, "I cannot give you the reason," she knew it. It was her mother; he wouldn't go because he had likely heard that her mother was in town. Mr. Bellingham must have brought him the news. But if she didn't go to London, where was she to go? Back to Heidelberg, she supposed, and Aunt Helen's, and the daily journey to the convent, under strong escort of course, so that she would not come in contact with the students. And there would be the musical evenings, and the decorum, and no fun, because Aunt Helen didn't believe in fun. In a way she could be her father's sister, not her sister-in-law, for her theory was that if God wished you to marry.

He would send you a man;

magically the man would appear, as her husband had appeared to her.

But of course he mustn't be a German student. But even Heidelberg and Aunt Helen was preferable to staying here, yet she determined not to go without a protest. She said now defiantly, "Well, I don't want to go back to Heidelberg, Father. I've ... I've outgrown Aunt Helen."

"Indeedl" His face was straight, and he frowned at her before he went on, "But you need not worry, you're not returning to Germany. It so happens that I received a letter from your Uncle Henry yesterday telling me of a long-felt desire of his and your aunt's to visit India, and they intend to do this forthwith. So I'm afraid you'll have to content yourself with my poor company and the amenities of your home until further arrangements can be made." Again there was a thin smile on his face, but it vanished when, bending towards him, she cried, "No, Father! You can't make me put up with this all winter, it's utterly dead, and I've looked forward so much to staying in London. I ... I want to go to London; I'll go mad if I have to stay here, there's nothing to do."

Swiftly he rose from his seat and it was on the point of his tongue to say, "Then we'll go mad together for

I, too, cannot bear the thought of you in this house for months ahead.

"

Up till they were ten he had seen little of his children, for they were kept, as children should be kept, out of sight at the top of the house.

Sometimes they were brought into the drawing room to say How-do-you-do, and at such times when they stood side by side staring at him solemn-eyed he could not believe that he was the instigator of their being; he did not feel that they belonged to him. When his wife had left him he had arranged that the top floor of the west wing of the house should be given over entirely to them and the governess. A year later he had sent his son away to boarding school and the boy was fourteen before they sat down to a meal together. When his daughter was fifteen he consulted with his brother. Henry, and his wife, while they were on a visit, as to what was best for her, and when his sister-in-law suggested, as he hoped she might, that Isabelle should return to Germany with them and finish her education there, he had welcomed it.

During the last two years they had come home for the holidays, but even then he had seen little of them, apart from meal times. This year it had to be different. They were near seventeen and something had to be done; and to this end he had made arrangements which, he hoped, would take care of his daughter's future. Then that wanton, who still dared call herself Lady Fischel, showed herself on the London scene once more, and here he was having to suffer the companionship of his daughter for months ahead; and of his two children he liked her less, for not only did she look the image of his grandfather, but she had an unpredictable nature and in some strange way she disturbed him.

He said now, with studied patience, "If you employ your time in useful ways it will not drag. I'll tell Mrs. Hatton to instruct you in the running of the house. The tapestry of the fire screen in my bedroom needs attention; also Mrs. Hatton has mentioned that new curtains are required for the drawing room. You can go into Newcastle and choose the material. Then you have your pastime of riding and walking....

Your days should be full."

Once again she was speechless, for her temper was choking her. She knew now how her mother had felt. No wonder she had taken other men.

She had the desire to cry at him, "I hate you! I hate you as much as my mother did." Fearing she might do just that, she turned and rushed from the room, and, finding Clive waiting for her in the hall, she gripped his arm and pulled him with her to the morning room, and once inside and the door closed, she leaned her back against it and gasped at him, "We're not going to London. He said circumstances have arisen.... It's Mother; she must be there and he's terrified of facing her. And I'm not going back to Germany either, they're going to India.

I'm to stay here all winter. " She brought her body from the door and poked her head towards him, hissing now, " Do you hear what I say? I'm to stay here all win teri He himself couldn't see this as a tragedy.

He would like to stay here all winter, set himself up in the old nursery, and just paint and sleep and eat.

"Well say something, don't just stand there gaping." She now marched across the room, her arms waving wildly as she cried, "I'll go mad.

I'll do something desperate. I know I shall. "

When she. turned to face him again there "were tears in her eyes, and the sight was so unusual that he went to her and put his arm around her shoulder. But he didn't speak, for at the moment he had no words with which to comfort her. One needed, big outsized words when talking to Belle, for everything connected with her seemed to be larger than life.

After a time he said, "Come on up to my room. and I'll give you a drink of something that will make you feel better." He bent his head down to hers as she dried her eyes and blew her nose, and whispered,

"I've lifted a bottle of old brandy from the cellar. Come on."

For four days Isabelle rode her horse along the road from the North Lodge. She would hitch it to a tree before climbing to a hidden spot from where she could watch, behind an outcrop of rock, the wall slowly rising. On the fifth day she stayed longer than usual, waiting until she saw the girl and the children leave the place together; then swiftly mounting her horse again she rode towards the structure.

Pulling up some yards away she surveyed the scene: the fire let into the earth, the sooted kitchen utensils near it, the heap of wet mud.

Then, turning the horse, she backed it against the wall which faced the entrance to the cave.

When the horse's haunches touched the wall it reared nervously and kicked out with its back feet;

and as it made to move forward she pulled it up short and backed it again, this time digging her heels viciously into its side.

When the top of the wall gave way against the horse's haunches the animal reared up on its hind legs and almost dislodged her. Taking it forward, she turned and surveyed her handiwork. The top halt of the wall lay scattered within the enclosure. Swiftly now she took the animal round to the side and repeated the performance. This time the horse did not rear; it seemed to know what was demanded of it, and not until the stones began to tall did it jump forward.

She was about to follow the same procedure with the third wall when she saw a figure flying towards her. This did not cause her to gallop away, but she walked the horse forward a little, drew it to a halt, and waited for the girl to come up. She watched her as she stared at the debris, then dashed to the remaining wall and looked over it; and she almost laughed when she turned and gaped at her, so comical was the creature's expression. Her lip curled, her head went up; then, pulling hard on the bit, she brought the horse round, its front legs clearing the ground, and galloped away.