The Episcopal Church in Lowbridge was located on a small hill, bordered by beautiful, now bare oaks. The interior of the church was light, with arches rising high, and dark soft wood. The narrow benches were almost cherry-colored wood. It was time of Solemn Evensong.

In the multicolored light of the delicate rose windows, Alice Parker's features were pale, and her eyes were closed as the familiar liturgy rushed forward, soothingly unchanged. The choir sang, brightly, but the alto section was a little light, as always, everywhere, she noted with a small inward smile. Then the service ended, as it is wont to do, and the priest, Father Simmons, greeted those present, nodding, calmly and with dignity, as always, his flowing robes, shimmering.

And then Alice walked back to her quiet, gloomy home, where silence prevailed, except when the phone rang, and it made a frequent, incredibly high, unvoiced sound.

The dark cloud seemed to hang over Ingelside.

It was the third week of Walter's illness. Walter had become increasingly restless, and at times he muttered something that not even Di could figure out. The professional nurse had been called and she had confirmed and Gilbert´s diagnosis. Typhoid, the severe strain.

"At moments like this, I realize once again that there's so much we don't know about that beloved child" said the inconsolable Susan as she once again covered the tea on a table that would cool in cups when Ingelside residents didn't sat down except in the grip of extreme exhaustion.

In the end, Nan suggested "I think we should invite Alice Parker here again? Because she and Walter are, well, close, and she might know something we don't." Di shot frustrated look at her twin, but in the end she, too, was forced to bend, as for nothing Di did, read, or chatted seemed to help.

The hours passed, the long hours of December, when dusk came early, and there was little light. Out of the shimmering blue moment, came golden Alice. A haunting glamorous scent rose from her hair and clothes that made Anne think of distant lands. Susan sinffed, in the background, and thought to herself, "Lowbridge high church pretentiousness, that is not proper at, all. Only strict Calvinist, presbytery theology is decent." Alice cradled gently warm teacup, that Susan grimly handed out to her, and then she nodded regally to everyone gathered in the living room.

Anne Blythe twisted her hands and said slowly "earlier today, I went to improve his pillows he muttered that "the red scarf is flying, in the wind, grab it, don't let it run away." But Walter doesn't own red scarves, at least ones made in silk. The only silk scarf he has is the gray he got from his childhood friend, Ken over the summer.

The color varied in Alice's delicate features and after a moment of silence, she said, slowly, in her sweetly regal way" I found him on the sofa in our living room, unconscious, and you immediately got him here, that was few weeks back. There is typhoid in Lowbridge, so it is possible that Walter became infected while visiting someone's home, as he was often able to give private tuition, pro bono, naturally after hours. As for that scarf, Walter has recently written a lot of new poems where the color red is heavily featured, so maybe that's related to it? "

Di glanced very researchingly at Alice's face, but the pale, delicate features of the other girl, revealed nothing but great concern. At the Harvest Dances Walter was rooted alongside Alice, all night except when, he danced with Una.

Then Di's face changed, her freckles stood bright spots, amid her ivory colored features, the same shade that her brother had, upstairs Alice noted with some alarm. Di got up, her form was very erect, as she walked out of the room. There was a muffled sound of front door closing. Nan got up to follow Di, but Anne shook her head. So Alice said, "Will you let me try?" Nan glanced at Alice, seemingly unsure, and bit her lip, but Anne nodded her assent, with an injuction "Be gentle with her, Alice. Di loves her brother very much and this separation of his living at Lowbridge and teatching there, and her in Harbor Head school, has been hard on her, as they have not been fully separated before, and now the illness as well. She hates that Walter does not even propely know any of us, right know, as we all do."

Alice slipped outside, and walked toward Rainbow Valley and there she found Di. She was leaning against on one of Walter's favorite trees, a white-framed birch. In the dim light, Di whispered, "Do you know Alice that in my childhood I was horribly jealous whenever Walter talked about you, as it was something he did relatively often in the past, especially right after Rilla was born."Alice, nodded, and said in a gentle, sort of way, "Di, I by no means want to take your place in Walter's heart, not that anyone would could do such a thing. Your brother is my dearest friend, although the rumor mill claims, something else as they always do. "

After a moment of silence, Di inquired,"I do not know if you remember, but there was a violinist who played at last August's Barn Dance, and again now at Harvest Dance? I seem to remember that he had red scarf twined in his neck. He is extremely gorgeous, and played brilliantly. There was something very special about that August night and Walter's behavior throughout the evening, just as if he had gained some new insight, but I do not know what caused it, at all. I had only just remembered it, as I saw you gilding there, fairy light in the snow. "

Alice, said nothing, she looked at the frosty birch branches that stretched out, sharply hazy against the blue-black sky, like skeletal fingers.

In the corner of Ingelside's living room, Gilbert talked to Anne in a quiet voice, shaking his head as the girls arrived back inside. Di whispered, "Walter's situation is really bad if Father shakes his head..

At the Presbyterian Manse of Glen , in the upstairs there was a room, with a light on.

Una Meredith could not even pray as deep pain seemed to tear her in half. Walter was seriously ill, she had tried to sneak in the direction of Ingelside, but her father had said firmly but gently, "Darling, I promised your mother to take care of you, to protect you from anything that might hurt you. Walter has a typhoid, so I've advised everyone to keep their distance from Ingelside, until his condition is more stable. Of course we will pray, for him and all people in the grips of this illness. " Una glanced at Faith's pale form as she nibbled her dinner.

She was sure that her strongwilled older sister would do anything to go to Ingelside if Jem were there, but luckily he was in Redmond, as was Jerry, but they were coming home soon as it was Christmas season.

It felt completely strange to eat Rosemary's brilliant dinner and wash the dishes when the bottom of the world had suddenly fallen out, for the idea of the world, without Walter's presence, was completely unsustainable. Suddenly Una's thoughts were interrupted when she heard Faith's voice next to her, saying, "Do you think this is God's punishment that I didn't like the Rosamond's poems, I tried, but they were somehow too much." Una shook her head in silence, and a small red tint rose on her cheeks as she thought of Walter's sonnet, which she already knew by heart.

Suddenly, the silence of the evening and Rosemary's piano playing were interrupted by a phone ringing, three short and one long, the Manse ring. Una's heart seemed to be jumping down her throat, even breathing was difficult.

John Meredith answered, and his pale fingers bent around the headset. The call seemed to last a century. Una faced his father's dark, sympathetic gaze and he said, "It was Ingelside. Gilbert called to let us know that, Walter is being transferred to the hospital, but he is conscious, and now knows where he is and what has happened to him. So there is hope."

The towel fell from Una's hand, and the room suddenly swirled around her, from somewhere far away she heard Rosemary's voice say, "Carl catch your sister, she's fainting."

The morning light shone through the lace curtain, and Una blinked, she was in her own room and next to her was a familiar scent, a little incense and honey, Rosemary, therefore. Her blond hair framed her beautiful, pale face and Rosemary smiled at her and said, "Una-dear, I think you might have something in your heart, but if you ever want to talk remember that I´am willing to listen." Rosemary raised Una's pillows and remarked, "Rest this day in complete peace. I've put Faith and Carl to work, they're taking care of church things today. Do you want me to bring you something downstairs, a book, or sheet music?" Una smiled, it was a quick, almost invisible smile, and she nodded and said, "If you could bring a blue folder, and Coleridge's collection of poems?"

After a moment, whistling Carl brought a tray of hot tea in a pot, rosebud cup, a warm skonze, and the requested items. "What exactly are those notes," he inquired in good spirits. Una didn't answer, she just opened the folder carefully and she smiled as the notes were revealed.

They were Elgar's collected notes, and lightly she hummed a romantic longing melody. Walter was going to the hospital, so he would definitely get better, it would take time. Perhaps in the summer Walter and her, could play the piano together again, and maybe he would wrote more poetry to her.

The hospital was a lonely place, as Walter had noticed in recent days. Tea was bad, and so was the food, when he had the strength to eat, often he did not. The nurses and doctors were busy, and his condition varied, with fever seizures occasionally, usually always in the evening and at night.

Tomorrow would be a visitation day, and maybe Alice would come if she was allowed to do so. His siblings wrote diligently, for Gilbert forbade them to meet Walter, as for too much noise could exhaust him, he understood the precaution, but the hospital was such a noisy place, despite the private room. Everything echoed, and smelled crisp, and his clothes were white extremely ugly hospital pulls, devoid of any cozy details or personality.

Walter gently took under his pillow, Ken's scarf, and as the silk slid between his fingers he thought of Tadzio. He had a vague feeling that not everything was right that he should remember, something important about Tadzio, but he only remembered the flowing, restful hours in his room, the gentle smile of his dark eyes, and the softness of his hair, under his fingers, and the taste of the metallic cold ice water tand the red spots that were on Tadzio's chest, the same spots that he had now, the sings of typhoid roses, the rash, such a lovely name for it. On the table assigned to him was a small stack of books, and his red notebook, top of the pile. Exhausted, Walter closed his eyes, and he dreamed of music, violinmusic, the final slow waltz of the Harvest Dance.

Anne Blythe walked with fastest flowing steps, straight to Walter's room, one glance proved that her dear child was asleep. There were red flush glistening on his narrow cheeks. How delicate had he become, so fast, and sudden. The transformation was dreadful to behold. The tears that were always so close to the surface these days flooded, over, and Anne thought God took Joy away from me, too soon. Fortunately, he is here now and is receiving the best possible care. Gilbert argues for new forms of treatment, and combes through all latest medical journals available to us, with Dick Parkers help.

Suddenly Walter whispered, "Would you play it again, and faster, so one can dance to it, see how the stars shine, like ice flowers in velvet, sometimes the embroidery looks mostly like that, especially if Una has done it. Of course, nothing like that, and you, if anyone knows it. "

Walter's long lashes trembled on his cheeks, and after a moment, he turned uneasily. Feeling anxious, Anne put a cold wrap on his forehead, swept damp dark hair off his forehead, and Walter's voice rose, in a vague murmur there was clear only "Alice knows, she's so beautiful, but something happened in the fall, and I can't help it, I have been trying, so hard. "

Anne listened and tried to understand her child's words, but the one-sided conversation was difficult to conceive. One thing was clear, Alice knew something, and the mention of Una was a sudden hopeful spark of her secret hopes of her sons future happiness.

With a soft sigh, Anne gathered her thoughts and tapped her fingers together. Alice had always seemed like a very nice girl, but she wasn't from Glen, so that's why her own connection to that family had always been distant, despite Gilbert's local collaboration with Dick. And the simple fact was that Alice at certain times looked so very reminiscent of Ruby Gills, sometimes it was hard to look at her, and she was an episcopal, although no one's religious orientation should be blamed, as it would be too prejudiced, but still there was a sliver of caution still existed in her heart like an invisible thorn.

Suddenly Walter's hoarse voice said, "Mother, I was sensing your perfume, can I get some water?" Walter's eyes were a little dim, but his gaze was bright and clear, and Anne felt her heart lighten, and she said gently," Do you want me to read you something, your own poems perhaps? " Anne held out her hand, toward the red-edged notebook, as Walter's eyes flashed, momentarily, like from of an alarm, and he said calmly, "Shelley, thank you."

So Anne lifted the green gold ornate worn book in front of her and started, her voice gleaming bright, and clean, with no false accents. This literary idyll was interrupted when Gilbert and Alice, came into the room. Alice lifted her dark blue hems and said lightly, "Literary circle how nice, almost like in November, do you remember Walter?"

A strange bright glow from Alice's words seemed to illuminate her son's face, and Anne felt a sting in her heart. Walter smiled and said, "Dearest fae-like Alice, not quite, the music is missing, and the wind, but tea can probably be found somewhere, black, no milk, or sugar, right?" Golden laughter, seemed to be ringing in the room, and Anne and Gilbert, looked at each other, and left the young people alone, for few moments.

The room was quiet.

Walter and Alice just looked at each other. Finally, Walter said, "It wasn't a dream, you really were in Ingelside, in my room. Have you heard anything about Tadzo, he is well, is he? I think I got infected because I drank water while I was there, the well it must be."

Alice's face, which had been a tinted pale rose, turned pale. Alice's voice broke, and she said softly, "Walter, I have very bad news, for you. Tadzio, he died more than three weeks ago. He did not survive the typhoid, his fever was too high, or so my father had written in his report that I read, in secret. I have his scarf, it's here." With a smooth gesture, Alice lowered the red, well loved silky flash on the white blanket, it looked like a bloodstain.

The infinite horror seemed to take Walter into his embrace, and he drained into the black emptiness gladly, almost joyfully.

"I loved him too, but not like you." Walter was already unconscious, he didn't hear Alice's words at all.

Quickly, Alice wrote short message to Walter's notebook in french.

"W!

I have the scarf.

I will keep it safe, and sheltered, for you.

All my love

AP."

Alice ran down the hall, raising her voice, over the din of mint green tea cart, on wheels."Anne, Gilbert, Walter suddenly got worse, I think that you could call someone, right now! "