Pam and the Countess

by E. E. Cowper

"I was thinking of something bigger than that--I mean, wider--than just a yacht. It's the freedom, Adrian. Of the sea, of the shore, of the woods--that's what I meant. You see, there are prisoners."

"Oh, not now, Little Pilgrim," Christobel expostulated, "we've got them all home, thank God, by this time."

"Ours! Oh, yes, I hope we have, I believe we have; but I was thinking----"

"Miss Anne, please don't ask us to feel--well, sentimental--about German prisoners," said Adrian in rather a hard voice; he was digging a hole in the road with his stick, as a vent for his feelings, "they've had a good time in England."

"Oh no, dear, it was something quite different that was in my mind, I assure you. Only, what one feels is--value freedom--it is so wonderful really."

"Expect it is, one jolly well takes it for granted though, doesn't one, Crow?" Adrian strongly objected to strenuous remarks, whatever the subject. "Well, Miss Anne, thanks awfully, we've had a ripping time, your party was simply top-hole. Think of Crow and me enjoying freedom. Oh, by the way, it's 'the freedom of the seas', isn't it? Early to-morrow, all being well, we want to go to Salterne."

"For the day, or what?" asked Miss Lesarge, smiling.

"For the day," agreed Crow. "As usual, Addie wants his hair cut, and the only man he approves of is in Union Street. We anchor the yawl and come back late; the tides have come round by now, to a nice useful arrangement. Miss Anne, you know Mother doesn't mind now if we sleep on board, as long as we are inside the estuary. That gives us a grand long time to do things."

All this was said in the road, you will remember. Adrian and Christobel possessed clear voices that carried; they did not modulate them to any great extent; lastly the white wall was only the width of the road from this conversation.

Neither Pamela nor Hughie spoke, yet they two realized with a sort of shock what the meaning was behind Miss Anne's little eager protest about "prisoners". She knew, she must know! She was just thinking out loud her own gentle pity for the girl behind the white wall. Pamela saw it so on the instant, and with a flash of memory recalled the large dull old-fashioned drawing-room at Woodrising, and the girl sitting alone, trying to be interested in a book. And she can climb, thought Pam suddenly, perhaps she was used to mountains; why not? Anyway, she must be accustomed to great possessions, to woods and parks, to great estates! A new view of the case brightened Pamela's mind. Miss Anne was looking at her, their eyes met and the girl smiled, then turned pink, and looked away.