A Hint of Witchcraft by Anna Gilbert Page B

complaining that when a Rilston died his eldest son was expected to give up his career in the army and devote himself to looking after the family property. As a rule he would by that time be middle-aged. In his own case since the inheritance would miss a generation, it would probably come to him at an earlier age.
    â€˜Shall you like living at Bainrigg?’
    â€˜More than I once thought. Yes, I could be content here. Meanwhile being at Oxford gives one time to sort things out.… What is it? You’re looking suddenly radiant?’
    â€˜I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Mother. She wasn’t there when I came home from school. Miss Hepple sent for me this very afternoon. She thinks there’s a possibility – I’m sure it’s not at all likely – but it might be worth trying. Actually it was such a surprise that I’m almost afraid to talk about it.’
    â€˜I hope eventually you’re going to put me out of my suspense and tell me what on earth it is.’
    â€˜Oh, Miles, I never thought.… She thinks I might take the entrance exam for one of the Oxford colleges, St Hugh’s, perhaps.’
    Silenced by the sheer wonder of it, she leaned back and stared unseeing at the tablet of St Michael’s incumbents on the opposite wall. It is doubtful whether in its long history the porch had ever encompassed a more blissful moment.
    â€˜Well done. If you come up to Oxford I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.’
    â€˜Yes! But’ – her face clouded – ‘it would mean another year’s study – and by that time you would have left.’
    â€˜Not necessarily. I may stay on and take another degree. That’s one advantage of reading history, there’s so much of it. One can go on for ever.’
    She would read history too, her favourite subject even before she knew that it was also his. With Miles as guide she would wander amid the historic halls and seats of learning, hear the bells chime from venerable towers, trace the haunts of the Scholar-Gipsy. Her vision of Oxford was similar to, indeed identical with, that of Matthew Arnold.
    For a moment he had lost her. His pleasure in the prospect of halcyon days together was modified by this fresh reminder that she was only eighteen, too young to be told that he hoped to share with her not only Oxford for a few years but Bainrigg for all the years to come. He must wait, thankful for having found at last something to live for.
    Margot sensed his mood. She understood that by temperament he was inclined to be melancholy. Unlike Alex he was patient rather than decisive. Above all she sensed his loneliness. His mother had died when he was eight. Since Major Rilston had also been an only child there were no cousins on the paternal side of his family. A sudden realization of her own good fortune in being one of a complete family prompted her to say, ‘You must come and see us more often, whenever you’re at home.’ The words and manner were her mother’s. ‘You mustn’t mind my saying it. You’re so short of relations.’
    He smiled, regretting that she had given no other reason for the invitation. ‘Your long-suffering family can’t be expected to fill the gap. But it’s true: I’ve never known the kind of home life you have at Monk’s Dene.’
    â€˜It’s the same with Lance, you know. He was very young when his mother died.’
    â€˜Did he get over it, do you think?’
    â€˜It must have made a difference, but Lance is such a strong person, so sure of what he wants to do. He doesn’t seem to think about himself, only about what he thinks important. I suppose that’s rather unusual.’
    Margot reached the conclusion with surprise. She had never consciously noticed Lance, never given thought to his character, but had accepted him as a familiar feature of daily life. There was no need, no occasion to worry about him as she