A great excitement seized me. Could it be that these exercise books held the clue to Silva's disappearance? I held out my hand but Slack was regarding me in a puzzled fashion.

"I were to hold 'em," he said.

"And not show them to anyone?"

"Her didn't quite say that."

"Have you read them?"

He shook his head. "They be too much for me, Miss Ellen. I can read only little words. Her was frightened... frightened of someone in the castle. I reckon it's in here."

"Slack," I begged, "let me read them."

"I been pondering," he said. "I have said: 'Show 'em to Miss Ellen.' And I'll tell 'ee this, I've been on the point of doing that time and time again. Then when you said about the sugar it was as though Miss Silva spoke to me. 'Let her read 'em, Slack. Might be they'll be of help to her.'"

He put the books into my hands.

"I shall go to my room and read them immediately," I said. "Thank you, Slack."

"I hope I be doing right," he said uneasily.

"I shall never forget what might have happened to me but for you," I told him earnestly.

"Master Jago were there, were he not? He just happened to be there. I be mighty glad I were there too."

I did not think about what he meant by that until later. I was so excited about the exercise books, and lost no time in going to my room and shutting myself in there.

It was still the same scrawly untidy handwriting though a little more mature than that in the first exercise book.

"I found that notebook I wrote in years ago and it made me laugh and cry a bit. It brought it all back so clearly and I thought it would have been interesting if I had written more of it and had a whole stack of such notes, recording my life, my miserable uneventful life. Those were good days in a way when my stepmother was here with Baby, and when they went I was terribly lonely. At first I thought my father might have liked me a little more if there was no competition. How wrong I was! Of course I was a difficult child. Governesses came and went. They always said the same. They despaired of me. What I do remember from those days was my father's sending for me.

"It was soon after my stepmother had gone. I must have been about fourteen. I remember how excited I had been when the summons came. I had let myself imagine that he was going to tell me he loved me after all and we were going to be friends from now on. It's amazing what pictures the imagination will conjure up without having any sound reason for doing so. I saw myself in his study, toasting muffins on winter evenings or sitting on a footstool at his feet while we talked. I could hear the servants whisper: 'There's nobody who can soothe him like Miss Silva. The moment he comes in you know he's going to shout: "Where's Miss Silva?"'

"What a silly little thing I was. As if my stepmother's going would have softened a nature like his. The reality was that I stood before him, my hopes blighted by his withering gaze. My best dress—crushed-strawberry color with a matching sash which I had thought so becoming—seemed to hang on me awkwardly. I was seeing myself through his eyes. All he wanted to tell me was that my latest governess had given notice and he didn't feel inclined to engage another, and if I wanted to be ignorant, which I obviously did and was, I could continue so. I was lazy, stupid, useless and he was going to wash his hands of me. He wondered why he had bothered to do as much as he had. But as he could not allow people to know that he had a little savage in his household he had decided, after long consideration, to engage a new governess, and if he had any complaints from her, she would be the last.

"I returned in abject misery, but I reminded myself: At least he had actually sent for me and talked to me. I didn't remember when he had done that before. Then it occurred to me that if I worked hard and tried to be the sort of daughter he could be proud of he might, in time, grow to love me. It was a comfort and my imagination was my friend because it started to supply those cozy scenes for me to brood on. He and I together on the mainland doing business. 'My daughter? She is my right hand.' 'My daughter Silva, yes, she is growing into a most attractive girl.' 'Marriage. Oh, I hope not yet. I don't want to lose her. I shall insist that if she does marry, her husband lives in the castle.'

"How stupid can one be! I knew in my heart it was never going to be like that.

"But those days when I lived between ridiculous dreams of personal glory and the depth of depression, when I hated everyone, and most of all myself, are past and I'm wasting time writing about them, because I can only write in retrospect and I'm probably not giving the real picture, which can only be seen clearly at the time it happens."

There was a blank page and I guessed she had abandoned the idea of writing for a while and continued later. The girl she had been in those days was the one who, finding herself confined in her room, would have scratched 'I am a prisoner here' on the wall of the cupboard. She had been a prisoner because she had been shut in by her own nature, I guessed; but perhaps those about her had helped to make her what she was.

The writing began again.

"There is nowhere one can go without being aware of him. Since my father's stroke he has taken over completely. Of course he was always there and people were more aware of him than they ever were of my father. He just has to command people and they obey him. They have to. My father was not like that. He would get angry with them and be vindictive too. He never forgave anyone who did him an injury. Jago isn't like that. I don't think anyone would dare do him an injury, so one couldn't really know how long he would bear resentment.

"Yesterday I was in the rose garden picking roses when Jago came to me. I turned suddenly and he was beside me. He always seems now as though he is assessing me and that makes me nervous.

"He said: 'My sister Jenifry is coming to the castle with her little daughter. They'll be company for you.'

" 'Are they going to live here?' I asked.

" 'It'll be their home. You'll like that.'

"Jago has a way of telling you what you are going to like and almost daring you not to.

" 'What does my father say?' I asked, because I always wanted to know what my father was saying and doing. The only time I saw him was when he was at his window and I was in the gardens. I'd look up hopefully but he was always turning away then. I would see Fenwick pushing him about in his bath chair. I always had to keep out of the way then, and if he did catch sight of me he would behave as though I were invisible to him. I can feel the hot tears coming to my eyes now when I remember such times. I always wanted to shout out to him: 'What have I done? Tell me that'

"Fenwick was always very discreet. Jago said that my father couldn't do without Fenwick, nor Fenwick without my father.

"Now I am eagerly awaiting the coming of Jago's sister and his niece."

Another blank page which indicated that some time had passed.

Then: "Gwennol is about eight. She is bright and pretty. Baby would be about her age. I took a dislike to Jenifry. I think she resents my being the daughter of the house. The idea of anyone's being jealous of me is comic! But she is always trying to push Gwennol forward. Not that she need worry. Gwennol is so much more attractive than I could ever be. I'm glad they're here though. Gwennol shares my governess. She is much brighter than I ever was.

"Why did I start this writing? There's nothing to write about really. Every day is like another. I shan't do it any more."

There was no more writing in that book although there were many blank pages. I picked up the second.

"I was clearly not meant to be a diarist My life is so dull and I'm getting old now. Most girls have parties and eligible men around them. My father, I have been told, has said that he will not waste money on bringing me out. Jenifry sees that Gwennol has a certain social life. She has become quite friendly with Michael Hydrock, who is the most eligible bachelor in the neighborhood. Gwennol is excited by the fact that he has been particularly nice to her.

"She came to my room last night. She had just been rowed back from the mainland. Her eyes were bright and there was a lovely flush in her cheeks which goes beautifully with her dark hair.

" 'It was a sort of garden party at the Manor,' she said. 'Oh, what a beautiful house; peacocks on the lawn and that lovely lovely house. I hate this old castle. Don't you, Silva?'

" 'Yes,' I said. 'It's too full of the past. When I go near the dungeons I fancy I hear the screams of souls in torment.'

"'You would,' said Gwennol. 'People must have laughed here and been gay sometimes. There must have been feasting and revelry in the hall. Why do ghosts always have to be horrible? Why can't they be nice... like the ghost of Hydrock Manor? A benign old gentleman who says people have to be happy in the house. Michael told me the story today. It applies particularly to brides.'

" 'You're in love with him,' I said.

" 'Everybody's in love with him.'

" 'That must make life a bit complicated for him.'

" 'Why? Wouldn't it be nice to have everyone in love with you?'

" 'As not one single person has ever been in love with me, I can't say.'

"She said: 'Poor Silva! I'm going to take you to Hydrock Manor. You know, you might meet someone there.'

"It's night and I can't sleep. There is something about this room which I don't like. It seems full of shadows. Perhaps because I've been so unhappy in it. Somebody said once: Life is what you make it. If that's true, I've made a very bad thing of mine.