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“Oh, please,
please
, Hector, forget all about it!” she pleaded incoherently. “You mustn’t blame yourself— it wasn’t your fault!”

Hector caught her wavering hands and held them close to his breast. Then at last he spoke.

“Not my fault,” he said in a deeply moved voice. “My wonderful, almost unbelievable good fortune! Oh, Meg!
My
Meg!”

For a moment she held him off, incredulity blending with utter rapture as she gazed into those intensely blue eyes with their unmistakable message. With a little sob she surrendered to the demand of his arms, of his Ups —and for both of them, time stood entrancingly still.

When at last his arms slackened—though only sufficiently for him to look down into her tremulously happy face—he made no attempt to hide the passion and tenderness which possessed him.

“Oh, my little love, my Meg,” he whispered brokenly. “I thought I’d lost you! I thought it was Malvern—”

"You did?” Meg exclaimed in astonishment. “But why? Oh, I
like
him—he’s a nice person. But—” she broke off as his face hardened. “Not Fiona again?”

“To be fair, not entirely,” he told her grimly. “Oh, she told me that you were going to make a match of it and when I told her that I didn’t believe her, she suggested that I should ask you. That I fully intended doing. Then you showed me the note that Malvern had written to you about his father, and what with that and the fact that you went over to see him and were so obviously concerned on his account—I came to the conclusion that for once Fiona had told the truth.”

“Yes, I see,” Meg said slowly. But she sounded rather uncertain and Hector’s arms tightened protectingly round her.

“Something’s still worrying you, isn’t it?” he asked gently. And when she nodded: “Fiona?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Oh, it isn’t that I’m afraid she could ever come between us—not
now
! But—” she shook her head uncertainly.

“But true though that is and though, most certainly, she will never come to Heronshaw House again, none the less, someone with a warped nature like Fiona’s can leave a shadow—the memory of a fear?”

"Yes, that’s it,” Meg told him eagerly. "You see, Hector, I suppose I’ve been lucky, but it’s the first time I’ve ever come across anyone like her. I mean, did she really believe all the lies she told? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet the alternative—” again she shook her head. “It seems so horrible—”

“Sheer malicious mischief-making?” Hector suggested grimly. “No, I couldn’t believe it for quite a long time, but in the end the evidence was irrefutable.”

“But why, Hector, why?” Meg asked urgently. “There must have been some reason—”

“Yes, there was,” Hector acknowledged. “She was the child of a broken home. Her mother was what Aunt Millicent most expressively describes as a twitterpate— pretty but quite brainless. She wanted a good time and she thought she’d get it by marrying a rich man many years older than she was. Well, it didn’t work out, and when Fiona was about two, her mother went off with another man and there was a divorce. After that, though he saw to all her material wants, her father spent less and less time with her. As for her mother—” he shrugged his shoulders, “she never came into the picture again. In fact, nobody wanted Fiona and I don’t know what would have happened if my parents hadn’t taken pity on her and had her to stay here frequently. They hoped it would give her at least some feeling of having roots, but they soon found out that even then, she was something of a problem child.”

“I’m not surprised,” Meg said pitifully. “Not to be wanted—”

Hector gave her a warm, appreciative look.

“No, it wasn’t surprising,” he agreed. “But that you, of all people, can feel that—” And for a while they forgot about Fiona as he thanked her.

“And then what happened?” Meg asked at last.

“Oh—Fiona. Well, her father died and left everything to her, and for a time she seemed to settle down. But she thought that when she was of age she’d have complete control of all her money. When she found out how her father had tied things up, she was furious—both with him and with me because I made it perfectly clear that I intended carrying out his wishes. I tried to make her understand that I had no choice, but she simply wouldn’t accept that. She literally hated me—” he drew a deep breath. “It was as if she exhaled some sort of venom—she stormed and raved at me and she even tried to bribe me with the promise of a substantial cut of her capital if only I’d let her play ducks and drakes with it. When I refused she told me that I’d be sorry—she’d see to that! It seemed such an empty threat that I didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Then I began to notice things—she tried to make mischief between Aunt Millicent and me, but thank heaven, that didn’t work. So she went farther afield. I began to realise that it was increasingly difficult to run the estate. People with whom I’d been on good terms all my life no longer trusted me. In fact, in quite a few cases they developed definite grudges. The Bradleys were only two of them. I couldn’t make it out, so I simply dug my heels in and—well, you know the result. And still I couldn’t make out what was at the bottom of it. Then, of all people, Mrs Bradley gave me a lead. She said something to the effect that it wasn’t surprising that I treated them so harshly when everyone knew that I treated my own kith and kin even worse. She wouldn’t say more than that, but of course, since that couldn’t apply to Aunt Millicent, then the only other person was Fiona. So I waited and watched. And bit by bit I discovered that she had been deliberately poisoning people’s minds against me. Among others, by die way, poor old Nanny. She scared the poor old soul stiff that I was determined to get possession of her cottage by hook or by crook—and honestly, Meg, that wasn’t so,” he concluded earnestly.

“I know that, without you telling me,” Meg said unhesitatingly. “As a matter of fact, it was you who saw to it that she did at least have sufficient food to keep her going, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Hector admitted. “And the devil of a job we had to do even that. She was so suspicious—Well, that’s how things were when you and your uncle turned up, and I must admit, Meg, that by that time I was in no mood to tolerate opposition of any sort. Nor,” he added ruefully, “was your uncle, and as a result, you and I began on the wrong foot!”

“And yet, when we were in trouble, you came to our help—” Meg said softly.

“I hope I’d have done that in any case,” Hector said soberly. “But the fact was—I told you that there was another word than charity—a more gracious and fitting one, didn’t I?”

“But, Hector—” Meg’s eyes opened in sheer astonishment, “you couldn’t have loved me then—!”

“But I did, my darling! Even before that—and I was most annoyed about it!” he told her so feelingly that involuntarily Meg laughed.

“It took me
much
longer to realise that I loved you,” she told him mischievously. “But perhaps I must have been rather dull, because both Fiona and Jeremy told me that I was!”

“Back to Fiona again!” Hector said resignedly. “Just what did she tell you, Meg?”

“That—that you wanted to marry her and that, though she knew it was just for her money, she’d decided that she would,” Meg said in a low voice.

Hector gave a wordless exclamation of disgust.

“I thought that might be it, although she wouldn’t admit it, even at the last. But do you know, Meg, I believe she was honestly surprised when I made it clear that all the money in the world wouldn’t persuade me to marry her.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Natural enough, perhaps. She judged me by her own standards —oh well, there it is! I can’t get out of being her trustee until she’s twenty-five, worse luck. But at least I refuse ever to have her in my home again. Not that I think she’ll ever want to come,” he concluded with satisfaction.

"Yes, but, Hector, what will happen to her?” Meg asked, her face troubled. “I mean, as you said, she hasn’t got any roots. She’ll be at the mercy of anyone who— who flatters her and makes her feel wanted, won’t she?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hector said cheerfully. “You see, her mother and the second husband have come back into the picture again. They want her to live with them in America. I was a bit suspicious about their motives at first. After having ignored her so long, it seemed a bit fishy that it was only now that she was getting near to having full control of her money they were bothering about her. That was why I went up to town with her. They’re over here on a holiday. Her mother is just the same pretty little fool that she always was, but her husband is a very decent sort. Practical, too, and since he’s a self-made man, he’s got a hearty respect for money. I insisted on going through the whole business with him and with my accountant and solicitor. That left him with no illusions about Fiona. He made that clear—very discreetly! What he said was:
‘Fiona, it seems to me, is very much like her mother, and she and I have got on very well all these years. I don't think you need be troubled on Fiona's account!’
And, by heavens, I don’t intend to be!” he concluded vehemently. “So now let’s forget all about her and think about ourselves. Meg, my darling, you are quite, quite sure, aren’t you? You know, I
do
like having my own way—”

“But everybody does,” Meg said airily. “I do myself. I hate being driven just as much as you do. But—” she went on pensively, “isn’t it just possible that there won’t be any question of that because we’ll both want the same things?”

“That,” Hector said, his arms tightening round her, "is a very profound and reassuring hypothesis, Miss Ainslie! Shall we put it to the test? I want us to get married as soon as possible. Well?”

Meg turned a face full of love and trust up to his.

“As soon as possible,” she repeated steadfastly. “Oh, Hector—!”

It was the last thing she had a chance of saying for quite a considerable time.