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Judith turned at the sound of the door opening and saw her aunt standing there.

“Aunt Harriet, what sort of a woman was your mother?” she asked, turning back to the picture.

Her aunt came and stood beside her.

“A woman who could not brook opposition in any form,” she said slowly. “Surely you can see that. She got that from
her
mother—a Blackwood. The Blackwood men were noted for their unwillingness to accept any sort of authority over them. They were the sort that insisted on fighting duels after the law against them was passed, simply because they would not tolerate any interference with what they believed were their rightful privileges. One of them was killed that way. Of course Mother, being a woman, had no rights or privileges to speak of, and it must have been very galling to her. So, as marriage was the only escape for a girl of her position, she decided to make an early marriage. But one that suited herself. That was why she turned down an attractive young ruffian who was boon companion to her brother’s, although she loved him, and married Father. And though he was my father, I always knew that he had very little strength of character. But he did not. Mother never let him guess. She was very clever, you see, and her head always ruled her, not her heart. Of course, if she had been in love with him she would never have made such a success of what could have been a hopeless situation. Emotion has a way of robbing a woman of judgment just at the time when she needs it most.”

Her voice was very sad, and Judith, without turning, looked again at the portrait of her own parents.

“Did—did my mother love my father too much?” she asked in a low tone.

Miss Harriet linked her arm through Judith’s.

“Yes, my dear, she did. Too much for her own good—and his. A woman who had cared a little less might have been less sensitive. There is not the same temptation to hurt someone who gives no sign to show that your shaft has gone home!”

Judith did not reply, but a moment later she gently disengaged her arm and said casually:

“I’ll go down to the farm now!”

Miss Harriet did not attempt to dissuade her, but when the door had closed behind the girl, she turned back to the portraits and dared let herself hope, for the first time, that at last Judith was escaping from the bondage in which she had been for so long.

Judith went slowly down to the farm buildings, her head full of thoughts utterly alien to those which usually occupied her. The day and the work it provided were more than enough as a rule. But now it was people and the way they reacted on those around them that she thought about. To realise that one might inherit characteristics which had belonged to someone dead many years before one was born—it gave an odd feeling of insecurity. She must find out more about the women who had married past and gone Ravensdales—perhaps she might understand herself better then.

Suddenly, as she came nearer to the farm buildings, she realised that there was an odd sound going on— the heavy pounding of feet, an occasional gasping breath—strange thuds.

Forgetting all her other puzzles, Judith hurried round the cow house in the direction from which the sounds were coming and stopped abruptly, gasping at what she saw.

For in the field behind the shed were two figures, Charles and young Joe Sellars. And they were fighting. Leaning over the fence were one or two of the farm hands, apparently completely indifferent to the fact that Joe was getting the worst of it—as he was bound to, seeing their relative ages and strength.

“Stop it at once!” she shouted, and the men at the fence turned sheepishly and began to edge away. But Charles took no notice. Methodically he countered every one of Joe’s blind rushes and then scientifically planted his own blow with as little inconvenience to himself as possible.

“Stop it!” she shouted again, beating her fist on the top rail of the fence.

But at that moment Joe rushed at Charles with arms that flailed like a windmill, and Charles, neatly sidestepping, caught the boy on the chin and that was the end of it.

For a moment Charles stood, looking down thoughtfully at the boy. Then he bent and picked him up.

For the first time he appeared to notice Judith, and he nodded towards the latched gate.

“Open that, will you?” he asked coolly.

To her own amazement Judith found herself complying. Still carrying the inert form of the boy, Charles strode in the direction of the old pump. He put Joe down, soaked his own handkerchief under the pump and began to wipe the boy’s face. After a moment Joe stirred and looked about him with dazed eyes. Then they fixed on Charles’s, and a slow grin broke over his face.

“That was a peach, that was!” he said admiringly. “You don’t half know your stuff, sir!”

“Yes. Well, I’ll give you some coaching if you like,” Charles offered, standing erect. “Now clear off and— don’t forget!”

Joe scrambled to his feet, grinned, and ran off little the worse. Charles turned to Judith.

“Now then!” he said as if she were a troublesome child who was interrupting his work.

Judith, infuriated at his coolness, suddenly lost control of her temper.

“How dare you! How dare you!” she fumed.

Charles, his hands on his hips, stared down at her from the superiority of his great height.

“How dare I what?” he asked coolly.

“Fight like that—on my land!” she said furiously.

“I wasn’t fighting,” he told her with a patience that infuriated her still more. “I was giving young Joe a much-needed lesson—one that he won’t forget in a hurry!”

“Nothing justified such brutality,” she insisted.

“Brutality?” He shook his head. “Oh no. I could have smashed Joe to pulp if I had wanted to. 1 have both more strength and more knowledge than he has. But you saw for yourself that I didn't—and that Joe himself owes me no grudge. He knew perfectly well that he has been asking for this ever since I came here, and that to-day was just the last straw.”

“To-day?” she said sharply. “What has he done specially to-day?”

“Oh, that’s between Joe and me,” he said with maddening calm. “Don’t you worry, though, there’s no harm done. Except that Joe will probably indulge in a bit of hero-worship, which will be rather a bother.”

“Hero-worship—because you knocked him out?” Judith said scornfully.

“Yes—it goes that way. A kid of Joe’s age always has a weak spot for someone who can get the better of him by fair means—particularly when it is in the realms of physical strength.”

“I don’t believe it!” Judith said impatiently. “Why should anybody ”

“Ah—not anybody. A boy of that age. And it is something that I can understand and you can’t because I experienced the same thing years ago, and you never have. Women see things differently.”

“I don’t want a lecture on psychology,” Judith blazed. “Tell me at once what you were fighting about!”

And then, for the first time, she realised that Charles had a very strong chin. It jutted obstinately now and he said quietly:

“I am sorry, but—no!” and turned away.

Judith watched him go. She felt frustrated and humiliated. There was absolutely nothing that she could do about it, but at least she was determined on one thing. She
would
find out why he had fought young Joe.

She looked about her. The farm hands who had been watching had melted away, but she knew who they were and went in search of one of them.

“Tom, what had Joe done that annoyed Mr. Saxilby?” she asked curtly.

The man took off his battered old Panama hat and scratched his head.

“Well,” he said slowly. “I reckon Mr. Saxilby could tell you better’n I could!”

So he was teaching her employees to defy her, was he? Judith set her teeth.

“Tom, you’ll either tell me or—” she made a gesture with her head in the direction of the village—“you can find another job!”

“Well,” he said slowly, “it was this way. Young Joe he mentioned a lady’s name the way Mr. Saxilby didn’t like, so he up and gave Joe a trouncing. Which is what he’s been asking for. You don’t need to worry, miss. Mr. Saxilby knew what he was doing and there won’t be no more trouble with Joe now, miss!”

The man touched his hat respectfully and turned to get on with his work, but Judith did not move.

A lady! Linda, of course! Suddenly she remembered things that Desmond had said—“A working girl ought not to go out gadding to dances night after night!'’ With Charles, of course. She had known that subconsciously right from the beginning. And things Linda had done— that lovely dress she had worn. Of course it had been for Charles. The way they had paired off for the scavenger hunt.

Suddenly tears stung her eyes. Whichever way she turned, there was Charles making things difficult, robbing her of her self-confidence.

Charles must have been criticising her to Linda and that was why Linda was so unfriendly now. Charles had so won round her own employees that he had undermined her authority. He had tried to make out that people resented Windygates winning prizes at the local Agricultural Show.

Charles—Charles—Charles. And she could not get rid of him. She would be going away and he would be left here in charge. When she came back it would be even more difficult to get rid of him, because he would have dug himself in completely during her absence and have turned everybody even more against her so that she simply could not run the place without him.

The old Judith would have known what to do. There had been odd little bits of trouble in the past and she had dealt faithfully with them. But now—

The new Judith walked slowly back to the house. Her house. Her farm. And yet she felt lonely and an outcast, as if she were a stranger and Charles the master of Windygates.

Desmond rang up later in the day to ask how Judith was and seemed reassured when she told him that, except for the bruise, she was completely fit. None the less, he did not suggest a meeting, and Judith rang off with the feeling that in spite of Desmond’s insistence that her refusal to marry him would not make any difference, actually it was bound to. In her simplicity it never occurred to her that Desmond might be deliberately trying to make her miss him. Nor did she attempt to analyse why she had said “no.” For when Desmond had pointed out to Linda that there was no other man to whom Judith would give her confidence as she had done to him, he had been quite correct. Consequently, once she had got over her surprise at his suggestion, there was no reason at all why she should not turn to him. And if he had seen the advantage that it would be to him to be married to Judith for some time, that little glimpse he had had of something he had never seen in her before had increased his determination many times over. But he must not rush his fences.

The days passed. All Judith’s pretty clothes had come down from London, but in spite of Miss Harriet’s suggestion that she might wear at least some of them before they started on their journeyings, Judith simply packed them all away and seemed to forget all about them. All her eagerness to possess them seemed to have gone, and she was devoting as much time as ever to farm work, just as if they were not going away at all. It was a month now since Charles had come—the length of time that Miss Harriet had originally suggested he and Judith should work together—but it had proved to be impossible to book their passages as quickly as that and there was still another fortnight before they would sail. As Miss Harriet put both their passports away in her desk she felt suddenly discouraged, for a conviction came to her that they would not go at all.

She said as much to Mr. Bellairs, and he was silent.

“You think the same thing, don’t you?” she insisted, and he nodded slowly.

“I do. Although I cannot tell you what makes me think so,” he admitted. “But whether you go or whether you stay, there is one thing about which I am determined!”

“What?” she asked rather breathlessly.

He looked at her with tender, gently mocking eyes.

“You know perfectly well, my dear,” he told her. “None the less, I will tell you so that you are under no misapprehension. As soon as Judith is twenty-one, you are going to marry me. What is more, you are going to live in my house and I am not going to live at Windygates. Do you quite understand?”

She dimpled bewitchingly, and laughed.

“It doesn’t look as if I shall have much choice, does it?” she asked demurely.

“None at all, my darling,” he told her firmly and took her into his arms. “This is what I ought to have done years ago, only ”

“Only I’ve got a lot of the same obstinacy that is Judith’s curse!” she sighed. “Oh, Hugh, it does seem unfair that there should be such a thing as inherited tendencies! Surely everybody ought to start off with a clean sheet.”

“Even then, environment would play its part,” he pointed out. “And we should probably all be very simple and very dull souls, incapable of experiencing any very strong emotion at all! Do you think you would like a sort of jelly-fish existence?”

“How do you know jelly-fish aren’t perfectly happy being jelly-fish?” she asked mutinously, and Hugh Bellairs laughed. Anything less like a jelly-fish than Harriet he could not well imagine, and knowing, as he did, that the richness of her personality owed no little to the sacrifice of years which she had made, he felt that he could even forgive Mark Ravensdale and his selfishness.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But some instinct tells me that I prefer to remain as I am! Are you going to tell Judith now that we are going to get married, or wait until after her birthday?”

Miss Harriet pondered.

“If you had asked me that when we were up in London I would have said ‘now.’ I felt I got closer to Judith in that short time than I ever have done before.”

“Or since?” he asked, watching her closely.

She sighed.

“Or since. Hugh, I really did see signs of development and change in Judith then. Or I persuaded myself I did. But since we came back it seems to me that she has shut herself away not only from me but from everybody. She rarely goes to see the Enstones now, and they were her closest friends.”