Mr. Prescott has come again to visit Ravenscrag, and he has brought disturbing news. He has been in touch with Cousin Mark, and between them, they have decided that I should spend a year abroad at a finishing school in Switzerland.

Unknown to them, hidden behind a wall, I overhear his conversation with Carey.

"It is what the child needs, young companionship and education in the social graces." 

"She's to be groomed for the position she'll one day fill?" Carey sounds a little caustic.

"Possibly." 

I barge in, flushed and angry.

"I won't go," I say, my voice trembling, "and you can't make me go. I'd be miserable among a lot of strange girls." 

"Of course you'll go," Carey says firmly. "It's an excellent plan. It'll teach you to stand on your own two feet."

I glance down at my feet in their old bedroom slippers, and see, in their place, bare toes and hear a lazy, mocking voice saying, "An adult woman stands on her own feet." 

I shut out the infuriating voice at once.

"I suppose Cousin Mark thinks I'm too ignorant and raw," I say angrily. "He thinks I'm not good enough to marry." 

"You're still very young," the solicitor says soothingly, as if he's speaking to a child. "There's plenty of time before you make any irrevocable decision." 

But I've made mine, I think in agony, the tears prickling at my eyes, I don't have any choice.

"You'll find the training this establishment offers you very helpful in the future," Prescott says, and holds out to me an elegantly designed booklet setting forth the innumerable advantages to be gained from a course at Madame Maxine's Academy for Young Ladies. 

I snatch it and hurl it on the floor. 

"If I was good enough for Grandfather, then I'm good enough for Cousin Mark," I cry. "I don't need to be - to be polished!"

My heart hurts. My pride hurts. 

My fiance has not even bothered to communicate with me himself, but has left all arrangements to the solicitor, who does not even seem to know where he is. 

Mr. Prescott sighs. 

Carey picks up the booklet. 

"Don't be so silly, Yiseul,' she says severely, "you need to learn how to dress and entertain. This place is more than a school. They will prepare you for the life a lady has to lead. Mark won't be a recluse like your grandfather. You'll have to give dinner parties, cocktail parties, perhaps even house parties, open functions, sit on committees ..." 

"Oh, please," I quail. "How awful!" 

"A year abroad will give you the confidence you need," Carey says firmly.

12 months in Switzerland. 

An eternity.

I feel so humiliated. 

The dreadful thought occurs to me suddenly. Perhaps - perhaps, he simply does not care? 

My pride comes to the fore, and I lift my chin.

I will make him care. I will come back so poised and elegant he will have to acknowledge that I, Jung Yiseul, will make an ideal Mrs. Mark Jung. 

"Very well, I'll go," I say. "I'll - I'll make him proud of me." 

"That's the spirit!" Carey smiles, and hugs me.

"But the dogs! I'd forgotten them. They'll be unhappy at Ravenscrag without me. They'll be shut up most of the time, and they're not used to it. I can't leave them."

"I'll take them," Carey says heroically.  

"Oh, would you, Carey, and give them a walk every day?" 

"Yes," she promises valiantly. "Don't worry about them."

"Thank you," I say faintly.

There is no going back now. 

"Mrs. Kim will take care of the Manor, and Mr. Mark Jung is installing a bailiff until he takes over himself," Mr. Prescott says, looking vastly relieved at my change of heart.

"Until he takes over." 

The words make me uneasy.

What had the stranger said on the beach?

"Change is the law of life," he had said, looking down at me with those mocking, golden eyes, those eyes that had done strange things to my heart. "You'll change too, it's inevitable..."

"Mary and I will always make you very welcome if ever you want a home," Carey says warmly.  Mary Brooke is her friend with whom she is going to live.

And so I, Jung Yiseul, 18 years old, the future bride of Mark Jung, last male descendent, and sole heir of the Jungs, set forth for Switzerland, on a still autumn morning, when the leaves are just starting to fall, and the wind hardly stirs.

My future husband, unknown, unseen, keeps me company throughout the long hours that stretch ahead.

I whisper, over and over to myself, I am doing this for you, Cousin Mark.

And another thought surfaces, unbidden, unwelcome, and a sob rises to my throat.

I am so dreadfully lonely.

Please, come and see me soon.