The charity evening came and it was bright and a little cold, there were large torches smelling of resin lit up the courtyard, in orderly rows, and the rumble of people's speech echoed everywhere, outside and inside the large building.
Walter was dressed in formal wear, and noticed that his high collar was rubbing his neck, and that his shiny shoes didn't feel comfortable on his feet at all. But Alice, beside him, looked quite a shimmering lilac cloud, and she had only a few autumn, oak leaves in her hair, for all flowers did not feel the right kind, not in these conditions, she had said, in her soft way. There was a wide sheet on the wall of the room with the coat of arms of Redmond.
The light music echoed, and the low hum of the conversations small podium had a string quartet, and a piano, how Walter longed to play it. He could almost feel the cold ivory under his fingers. Then he was startled as Alice's nails pressed into his arm, and he heard her soft whisper, "Walt, are you dreaming, again. Focus, now for the Dean is giving his opening remarks." A slight hint of a smile glowed in Alice's eyes, as she nodded in the direction of the podium.
There stood narrow, white-haired, a man with large hardened collar, and a pocket watch in chains, the fringes of the tailcoat flared as Dean of Redmond said in a creaking voice. "Dear audience, this fall has been exceptional. We all know what's going on on the front. Newspapers publish daily news, and French geography has become familiar to many. Just a couple of days after the fall semester begun, Marne came, so our brave sons and war machine need your money, so dig up your checkbooks, you finest of Bluenoses." There was an murmur from the audience, as the dean continued, "Also remember to support the Red Cross, and buy War Bonds!" The speech got loud applause, even though it was mere propaganda, but the reference to Marne had been effective. Walter shuddered, remembering the gloomy headlines from early September. But fortunately Paris had not been lost, even though it had seemed so for moment or two. Paris, a city of light and love. Would he ever get there, would it withstand new attacks, that French jewel?
Walter let Alice guide him, around the rooms, and at times he made light teasing remarks of passers-by to Alice, which made her laugh out loud, lightly, shimmering, as he recited Keats, in a murmur to her.
Of wealthy luster was the banquet-room,
Fill´d with pervading brilliance and perfume
A sencer fed with myrrh and spiced wood
Of powerful instruments - the gorgeous dyres
The space, the splendour of draperies,
For merry wine, sweet wine
Will make Elysian shades not too fair, too divine.
Money was visible everywhere. Serious men in tailcoats, deans of different faculties of the collage, and professors talked to each other in a quiet voice, in small clutches. The sparkling women, with narrow dresses, and big hats, and there was way too many frills and furbelows, but then again, all women dressed strangely even his sisters, or Alice. Only Una did not, suddenly Walter found himself longing for Una's quiet encouraging presence, and the way she glanced at him, at the corner of her eyes, as she played some tune or other. Una's recent letters had elevated his fluctuating mood considerably. They were clean, like a mountain stream in the Alps.
Redmond Red Cross charter was present, with all various sub-divisions including the one with Nan, Di, and Faith were involved with. Walter thought the girls resembled butterflies, in their colorful dresses, as they sold woven socks and embroidered handkerchiefs and they seemed to be flying from one stall to another.
Walter walked with Alice among the stalls, when he suddenly heard, that his name was mentioned, "Walter, Walter Blythe!" Walter turned, and behind him stood Milne, a professor of English literature who had always treated him favorably. He now looked at him critically, smiled and said "Blythe I want to introduce you to a certain person, so if your most charming companion, will excuse us for few moments."
Alice glanced calmly at Walter and, nodded lightly, and fluttered into the crowd, her lilac dress, was soon covered by black tailcoats.
Walter followed, Milne, to another room. It was a small cabinet, with walnut furniture, and there was a slight scent of cigars, and expensive brandy – demon brew Susan would have said.
A small group of men sat in armchairs, discussing in a low voice, things completely foreign to Walter, and he wondered why Milne had brought him here. Then Milne's voice rose, "Gentlemen, may I introduce one of my most talented students, Walter Blythe, he writes like an angel." Someone said, "Roy, that Milne's student is here now." And Walter found himself standing opposite dark haired middle aged man, who had few gray stripes on his hair, and exeedingly well-dressed form, a true dandy he was, there was a slight spicy scent around him, that was very expensive. As if somewhere far away Walter heard Professor Milne´s voice in avuncular tone,
"Walter, may I introduce you to Royal Gardiner, he is very important trustee, here at Redmond, and patron of all arts, but especially literature. I thought he needed to get to know you. The way you write, my son, like Shelley, or Tennyson combined. Pure genious, that."
Gardiner´s large dark blue eyes had a strangely exploratory gaze as he looked at Walter, and feeling little nervous Walter improved his posture, as he did so he found out that he was little taller than man beside him.
Gardiner´s face, which had been a little reddish, from the heat of the room, suddenly paled and he whispered, " Milne you said that this boy´s surname was Blythe. Can you tell me what your mother's name is?"
Astonished, Walter said slowly, "Sir, my mother is Anne Blythe, as she was studying in Redmond, her name then was Shirley. I have sisters, and they're at the Red Cross stall right now."
Walter's words had a remarkable effect on Gardiner. He looked at Walter's features closely, and whispered, "If you have sisters, it's my duty to make a donation, for the war effort and all. " Walter smiled lightly, and the muscle in Gardiner's cheek twitched.
Flowing steps Walter led Gardiner toward the Red Cross stalls, and a happy smile, rose to his face, for the familiar and beloved features were in the shadows of the one particular stall, it had a sing on it: The Red Cross, Primrose Hollow, subdivision Kingsport.
"Doss, this gentleman wants to make a donation. " Walter remarked in fondly teasing tone, full of earnest joy. Di turned, and the light shone in her red hair and delicate features, and her greenish simple dress, and her light apron highlighted, the sparkle in her eyes, as in a steady silvery voice she said, "My brother said, something about the donation, sir?"
Gardiner's face was extremely pale, as he seemingly feasted upon Di´s features. He seemed to be looking at Doss very strangely, Walter wondered, if he knew Mumsy, from before, that might explain his reaction, as everyone in Glen always said, Di and Mum looked very similar.
Then Alice appeared next to him, in a gentle swish of lilac colored skirts, and she smiled at him beaming. There was whisper of a smile on her face as the soft violins echoed in the room. Walter held out his hand to Alice and they joined the crowd, one dance soon changed to another, and during a waltz turn, he noticed that Di was dancing with Gardiner. A small light, slightly ironic smile flickered on Doss's face as the soft tones of the waltz raced forward, and Walter knew his sister would write about the events of tonight, some verse, or satirical piece, of pure whimsy. Suddenly there were several other Red Cross volunteers, on the floor, but not Nan or Faith, as music grew like a silver wave in the moonlight.
Large double doors opened.
There was a glittering dinner table and the people laughing walked into the room one by one. Naturally, the place cards were in use, and feeling a little worried Walter tried to recall what Ken had told him about a parties with more than one piece of cutlery, silver and platinum almost dazzled the eyes. For one flowing endless moment, Walter was anxious for Ken to be by his side. He would be mischievous, competent, and witty. For this kind of social game, where money moved it was natural enviroment for Aunt Leslie´s children. Walter closed his eyes, and took a deep breath and heard Ken's soft, familiar voice say, "LP, always start with the outermost, and if there are servants, they'll hand out the dishes to you. And be careful with the drinks, take whatever others, have, but be careful, you do not want to end up feeling woozy."
The food was delicious, but Walter found that the constant talk of war caused inedibility for many, especially women, which was natural, of course, he wondered, as he cut his potatoes, and side-salad, a la francaise. Suddenly an amused light tenor, next to him, said, "If you imagine those women opposite you don't eat because there's a war, you're wrong. They never eat in public because they feel it degrades their own value. Nova Scotia's best families have many strange habits, and alliances, which sometimes can recall the reign of the bloody Borgias."
Walter turned, and found out that he was looking into the eyes of a young man of about his own age. He had light pale green eyes, and refined features, his hair was as dark as Walter´s own, and he had a pale blue tie around his neck. The young man laughed and said, "I'm Dorian, not Gray, but Gardiner. Papa loves Wilde's works, so I was named according to that book, despite my mother's objections. Walter found himself responding to that smile, openly, and he slowly said, " I´m Walter Blythe, I´ll think that I'll met your Father today."
Dorian's eyes flashed and he said "He loves opportunities like this, and so does his circle of friends. Money, talent, and influence, and the opportunity to do good, albeit in an arrogant way."
Walter found himself very fond of his new acquaintance. Dorian was extremely witty, and widely read, and he had vivid romantic streak that almost rivaled his own passion for English lakeside poets, of yore, but there was something haunting about him, some sense of suffering, that came and went in small, flashes. Ironic downturn of lips, and sweep of pale, delicate fingers.
In the hall, the orchestra tuned its violins and a soft intoxicating tone echoed and Walter remarked musingly "Listen, Dorian that music is like moonlight, or little fairies dancing." Dorian tapped his cutlery on the table, as he said in a soft slicing voice, "Unfortunately I can't dance. I haven't been able to do it in years." Deep pity struck Walter's heart, for now he saw that Dorian legs were twisted. There was sharp flash in his eyes as Dorian said emphatically, "Isn't it ironic, the heir to Gardiner's name is lame. Few years ago I was in a accident, and it left me disfigured. "
Dorian took two crutches by his chair with smooth movement and begun to walk, slowly. In two quick steps, Walter was next to Dorian and he gently asked, "Have you read anything interesting lately."
A slightly startled glance flickers in those eyes, but then Dorian enthusiastically begins to describe the collected poems of Hardy, that he did read recently, the flowing structure, style, and themes, as Walter finds a comfortable corner, on the edge of the room, with a large sofa from which to watch others.
Hours, pass and the music glows.
Then Walter noticed that Alice was coming towards their corner. The heat had lifted a light red tint on her cheeks and her blond hair glowed in the light, like a pale nimbus, and she looked like Queen of Violet Fairies.
Alice said in her gentle royal way, "Walter, I've been looking for you everywhere, and here you sit braiding verses, and talking about heaven knows what, and you don't even introduce me to your acquaintance? " At the sound of Alice´s voice Dorian seems startled, and a light color flew on his face, and slowly with a light stammer in his voice he said "Mademoiselle, I'm Dorian Gardiner."
Alice smiled lightly, as she looked thoughtfully into Dorian's face and form, and the crutches, that were topped with silvery cranes, with one sweeping look. She hummed, in a twinkling way, and said "I'm Alice Parker, how nice to meet you here. Mr. Dorian, but I hope you treat women better than your namesake?" A dismayed silence prevailed, few moments, on the sofa, and then Dorian said, "Absolutely. I'm not a libertine or a rogue."
Walter watched the shimmering crystals on the ceiling as the conversation around him flowed like stream in Rainbow Valley. There were some vibrations in the air, but Walter couldn't explain them, at all. He noticed that there were still red flush on Dorian's cheeks, and he looked at Alice as if the girl were the sunrise, but why would he do that? Alice was just Alice.
She turned her head like royal bird, and said, "Ah, I almost forgot. I heard from the organizers that now there is a free part of the evening. That is, one can play the piano if one wants. So Walter, are we going?"
Dorian's voice sounded excited, "Are you singing, please, do. To hear you, it would crown my whole evening?"
Alice glanced at Dorian without saying anything. Her earlier playfulness had vanished, and she seemed once again shrouded in regalness.
There was an interested hum in the audience as the pale blond delicately looking girl, and beautiful young man, walked across the floor and they stepped into the podium.
Faith's eyes widened in amazement as she whispered, to Nan and Di "Walter has been playing the piano with us for several years, and Rosemary says he's really good. I've never heard him because I'm not usually home when he visits us. Also Una does indeed praise him, and that's rare thing in itself, as you all know. My sister could be a professional pianist, if she wasn't so shy. How exciting this is!"
At the piano Walter closed his eyes, thinking of Tadzio how confident he had been, enchanting everyone in that barn dance, once upon a time, now was his turn to try. Alice smiled at him. The smile was transient, moonbeam, full of mutual companionship, and trust, as she took her place on the podium. Alice's soft, harmonious voice was gentle and soothing as she addressed the audience."Good evening everyone. I'll sing you a song, the lyrics are by the hand of Walter Blythe, who is playing the piano." Di suddenly clenched her cold hands together as her brother began to play the piano.
The music flowed, like incredibly beautiful, strand of moonlight, modulated waltz-like strains to which Alice's voice blended. Alice looked more flower-like than ever before, as she sung. Her voice was clean and shimmering. Its register was like Susan's meringue, shiny soft, and darkly sweet.
A whistle, whistle
rushing in a calm evening,
is it you,
or just a blackbird?
The Canadian boys, from
Glens and towns, all over from this land of Maple
Rush to take part
To fields of honor, and glittering gold.
To battle for King and Country!
Whistles, whistles
in the evening
under the soft French sky,
In the fields of red poppies,
The Piper pipes,
as the young men follow him,
into the field of poppies under starry sky!
Alice´s voice entangled softly around Walter's verses, and Di felt a pain in her heart, as a deep almost ringing silence descended.
It shattered suddenly, like a tidal wave, and wild applause shook the room as Walter and Alice, bowed and curtisied.
Dean of Redmond ran to the podium and shook Walter's hand, and several important-looking men besieged Alice and Walter, both of whom seemed baffled by attention.
There was pale darkhaired young man, with silver topped crutches, who walked slowly, towards Alice and Walter, and Gardiner was beside him.
There was something suspicious in his charm. Of course Gardiner had been extremely polite, but as if he did not see Di at all, but someone else, as they had danced. And there was the considerable amount of pure cash, he had donated to the Red Cross, but he seemed to be very well off.
They, Alice, Gardiner, and the darkhaired young man, and Walter talked for a moment. The young man, with crutches looked at Alice, so movingly, like he was afraid, that the girl would vanish from his sight, and in murmur Di recited, a snatch of poem by Walter De la Mer.
When I begin the marvellous hour
This only my heart´s strain egerness
That keep Love so close
From fears that are shadow of delight.
And then, her own, Walter was walking towards her, he hummed lightly, then he smiled brightly, like a ray of sunshine, as he said "Dear Doss, did you like it?" "I imagined that you could no longer write?"
There was a gloomy look in her brother's gray eyes, as he replied" I wrote that a couple of days before Harbor Light. I showed it to Alice a couple of weeks ago, and you saw the result tonight, but you never said did you like it? "
Di´s knew her voice trembled as she replied,"I loved it, dear brother, I simply loved it."
Alice Parker breathed deeply, as sharp cold air from open window refreshed her, as Mr. Royal Gardiner's recent words echoed in her subconscious, like a low, towering melody with a dangerous edge. "Dear Miss Parker, you seem to be the most sensible creature, even if you look tonight like a woodland fairy, from some vale of violets. You must have noticed that my son is fond of you. So I suggest that you act as his companion for a while, you will naturally get paid. " Alice pressed her hand to a fist, remembering her own answer, to that stylish, so well-groomed man. "Good, sir, we live in modern times. I refuse your offer, for my time is my own. I have come to Redmond above all to study, and to gain knowledge, not to plunder rich men, or their sons."Gardiner's dark blue eyes had flashed and he had said calm smooth satiny tone, "Dear lass, I´ll insist. Think on my offer for a few days?" Gardiner had left the room, in cat-like steps, like a predatory panther, and the smell of his cigar and hair wax had remained in the air.
Alice had experienced a small moment of fleeting horror, as if a cage or trap had slowly squeezed around her, and with a quick, impatient movement she opened a heavy window.
She sighed lightly, and pressed her fingernail to her arm. A small pale crescent-shaped mark appeared on it, which quickly disappeared.
Suddenly a familiar and warm voice echoed in the room. "Golden Alice, what are you dreaming of?"
In a hurry, Alice turned and closed the multi-pane window, and encountered Walter's clear gaze. His features were shrouded in shadow, but still they glistened like mercury in the half-light of the lamps.
Lightly Alice held out her hand to Walter, as they danced. Alice noticed that Walter hummed in undertone, some snatch of an aria, it sounded like something from Puccini, as they twirled across the wide, paneled room, with full of oaken cabinets and plush sofas.
Alice whispered, "I think, he would be so proud of you now. You enchanted them." Walter just looked at her, and there was a shadow of loss and memories in his far gazing middle distance look, and Alice gently sweeped away an errant lock of midnight hair, from his features.
There was a sound of footseps from the hallway and in swift manner Alice took nearest book in hand and began to read aloud from it, as she reclined on a nearest sofa. It happened to be collected poems of Cristina Rosetti.
To this homely reading scene came Professor Milne.
He stopped at the threshold and smiled as he heard Rosetti´s familiar verses, uttered in a gentle soothing voice, full of shaded emotion, in every line.
The hope I dreamed, was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake.
Exeeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream´s sake.
My silent heart, lie still and break;
Life and the world, and mine own self, are changed
For a dream´s sake.
"Sorry, Miss Parker, Mr. Blythe for disturbing you, and this utterly idyllic literary gathering, but I wanted to personally come to thank you for a completely captivating performance. In a couple of days, we'll know how much money tonight has brought to the Cause, but I can already say that your contribution to that may be considerable. That´s why I want to suggest that you could renew your double act, sometime in the spring? Please think on it at least? Dear lad, your poem was simply impressive. When you have time to come visit Perennial's premises, for a talent like yours, there is some use to be made."
Surprised, Walter glanced at Alice, who leaned in the armchair looking pensive. The book was dangling open, by her skirts, so Walter came and put it back to it´s proper place. He nodded to his Professor, who chuckled, and left the young couple alone, as light piano music echoed from the ballroom.
Somewhere the clock struck twelve.
Small misty clouds gleamed in the sky, and slowly, slowly it began to snow, a light, almost translucent gauze was covering the ground.
As the dawn came, so came the newspapers, that brought news of brutal battles in the Ypres.