‘Why are you so afraid of your aunt?’ he asked. ‘I don’t believe she is as ferocious as you make out. Let me come and call on her and I will tell her that at Cheveron I have a litter of highly bred spaniels. They are black and white and very affectionate. You shall have the pick of them all.’

‘How wonderful that would be!’ Mistral exclaimed. ‘I would love a spaniel, but it is quite, quite impossible. As to speaking to Aunt Emilie, I beg of you to do nothing of the sort. She would be very angry with me if she knew I was talking to you now – very angry indeed. And as it is, she seemed extremely strange yesterday and again this morning. I do not think she can be well. Everything I do is wrong, so, please, you must not make things worse for me.’

There was a touch of real panic in the young voice which made Sir Robert say quickly,

‘I would not do anything that you didn’t want me to do, but I wish I understood a little more.’

‘So do I,’ Mistral answered miserably. ‘If you only knew how I long to understood what it is all about, but – no one will tell me.’

‘But surely you have some other relations besides your aunt?’ Sir Robert suggested.

He saw an almost secretive look come over Mistral’s face.

‘No, there is no one,’ she said, ‘and I cannot discuss it. Please, Sir Robert, continue your ride.’

She looked round as if she would call Jeanne to her side. Sir Robert instinctively put out his hand to stop her. His fingers closed on her wrist, and her movement was arrested by the touch of his hand. She turned to look up into his eyes. Something magnetic passed between them, something which left them both breathless and spellbound. For the passing of a few seconds the world was lost and everything forgotten save themselves.

Then there was a sudden yap of the dog, the murmur of the waves at their feet, the screech of a seagull as it whirled overhead. Mistral’s eyes dropped before Sir Robert’s and he took his hand from her arm.

‘Do you ever come to the gardens early in the morning?’ he asked, more because he felt obliged to speak and break this strange, poignant silence than because he expected an answer. Mistral shook her head.

‘No, I go to the Chapel,’ she said in a low voice.

Sir Robert swung himself into the saddle. He gathered up the reins from the horse’s neck and looked down at Mistral. The sun was glinting on her golden hair. She raised her head suddenly and their eyes met once again.

Both were conscious at that moment of magnetism and of wonder, then without speaking Sir Robert raised his hat and rode away.