Light flashed at the windows of old gray Presbyterian Manse. The garden whispered, and the wind swayed abundant ivy against the windows, a light ripple echoing.

Busy, arrogant footsteps sounded from the room of the beloved John, for Elder Baxter, and Norman Douglas, red-bearded and furious, full of fire and sharp opinions argued there.

Suddenly, Norman's voice was heard roaring, in the stillness of the night "John, John, as a priest and pastor you have to step up. No ecumenical cooperation, not at this point. Lead, your church and the people therein, for the times are going to be severe, for us all. More than a decade ago, my Ellen realized this could happen, remember our arguments. The bell has tolled. It's just annoying that I'm too old to enlist, otherwise I would do it right away. It is hummed at the village that the young men are already gathering at the station, even though the declaration was made a couple of hours ago, young scamps. " The fragile voice of Elder Baxter was heard vaguely "This is a test, all the unmentioanble sins, and fornication in this village community, will be cleansed by divine fire, the end times have come, as Armageddon will arrive."

Rosemary rose gracefully from the couch, at living room, and walked to the window. The moon shone in the sky, and suddenly she heard light, beloved footsteps and the voice of her only son, little Bruce said, "Mama! I woke up and there was a shouting and I heard Uncle Norman's voice and Geddon coming to destroy us. Is Geddon perhaps a sea monster? Will it swallow Jerry, Jem, and Walter, who plays so beautifully, but not as well as you or Una, or I when I´m grown."Together they looked at the slumbering landscape, and lightly humming, and brushing Bruce's dark hair, Rosemary recited Longfellow´s The Children´s Hour, the verses were playful and full of domestic fun and games.

In a sleepy voice, Bruce pointed out, "we know an Alice, and she's serious, but there is no Allegra or Edith in Glen, and what is a bandit." Rosemary hid her smile and said gently, "Alice of Lowbrigde just seems serious, she is a golden lovely slip of a girl, full of hidden sweetness, and the bandit is another word for kind of a villain, one that captures post carriages, and so on, and those other names are just the names of Longfellow's other daughters. Don't take everything so literally darling, poetry like music, requires you to see the meaning behind, but you learn it certainly in due course, if your facination lasts." But Bruce had already fallen asleep, and light steps Rosemary put him back to bed, closing the door softly, but firmly.

In the kitchen, Rosemary encountered Una, who calmly brewed tea. Rosemary looked at her stepdaughter, who was toiling in dark blue silk by the stove, and softly inquired, "How was the evening, was Rilla success, before the news was announced?" Una looked up, and she just nodded, and there was a look on her face that Rosemary recognized, so she in passing caressed her midnight hair, as she took the teacups from the shelves. Quietly, Una said "Somehow it's hard to realize that everything is going to change, nothing is, like a couple of days ago. And all the previous worries and small fears now seem somehow pointless."And with light steps, and a serious face, Una climbed upstairs, lightly rubbing her temples, and she left Rosemary alone with the tea things, and that was very peculiar indeed, as usually Una had to be coaxed away from all domestic pursuits, but then, never there had been a night like this, before, not at their lives, at least, gentle golden, Rosemary mused. There were footsteps in the stairs, and John, pale and exhausted, entered the kitchen. He looked at Rosemary for a long time and she reached out lightly towards John. They embraced each other, and for few moments the pain, and the fear of the coming weeks, and the future receded.

Door banged, as one by one Jerry, and Carl came home. Jerry nodded at Rosemary´s mute inquiry and said, his black eyes flashing, with humour, "Mother R, Faith is with Jem, in the garden, she is coming in soon. No need to worry."

John Meredith watched all his children, except Una, who had one of her megrim spells, or so Rosemary had said, having late tea in the kitchen. Vivid, lovely Faith, with her mother´s golden coloring, Jerry with his savvy and clever arguments, and bonny, clean Carl, who had her mother´s eyes and who loved all the animals of Cristendom equally. John Meredith was thinking, of the golden, singing, musical Cecilia, how she had suffered, when she had to leave them all. There was a dark hole in John's soul that even Rosemary's tender care had not filled, and nor would it. And with some inner intuition John knew that in Rosemary´s heart there was one corner that was closed from him, but he had never asked. And now the war had come, and it demanded his children, his and Cecilia's children..

Una´s room bathed in a bluish hazy light.

Softly, Una put her rustling silk dress in her wardrobe and started combing her hair open. About 120 strokes later, that heavy black mass was braided and fell as a thick rope almost to her hips. Una glanced in Cecilia's old mirror, and in this nightless moment, almost not recognizing herself. The mirror showed her a image of a delicate girly creature, all cream, and dark shadows reminiscent of the fatal heroines of Coleridge, Shelley, or Tennyson.

Una closed her eyes, recalling the moment she found herself sitting in the same boat with Walter Blythe, he looked quite like he had fallen into a boat, from some magical star, all moon pale and vivid, and his large, crystal-bright gray eyes had had a soft, almost hypnotic glow, and the wind was playing with a red silk scarf that had accentuated Walter's sophisticated and graceful features.

In his formal attire, Walter had been a truly breathtaking sight, and then he had uttered in a soft, slightly mischievous voice, those verses that Una knew by heart, his own verses, his verses, for her.

Una's heart was pounding violently, and the soft, cherry blossom tint of red rose on her cheeks as she recalled dance on the beach.

The waves hit the shore, and the incredibly beautiful music, glowing and longing, carried from the Lighthouse, as Walter had danced with her, surely, caringly, but at the same time, somehow distantly, and he seemed to be looking through Una.

They had twirled, waltz, that soft, and a little forbidden charm, and Walter's hand in the waltz grip on her back, it felt burning, dancing on the sand embroidered with shadows seemed to last a little eternity, and finally Walter bowed to her, and in his eyes was again the same, familiar, and gentle look, as he said "Mademoiselle Meredith, Una. Thank you. Dancing with you is like holding a light breeze in my arms."

The rest of the evening passed from Una's perspective like in a fog, she had handled the buffet, and had occasionally seen light glimpses of Walter on the dance floor, first with Gertrude Oliver, and then with golden Alice, and then crushing news had come. The journey home, walking with Blythe's girls, Alice and Walter, had felt like a dream, and Walter had said lightly "Una, I´ll try to see you soon, at church, still the next few days will be busy for everyone, I´ll gather. A new era has begun, and we do not know what the future holds before us. "

A couple of days passed, in a hurry and busy with work all over Glen parish. That Sunday, the church had been overflowingly full, and Una had gotten only a smallest glimpse of Walter, who had sat with his black hair well tended, and eyes closed, there had been pale red spots on his cheeks in the Blythe pew, with his sisters and brothers. Nan had looked Jerry with almost desperate, keen eyes, and her brother had looked towards Nan with equal intensity, but afterwards they did not talk.

The newspapers were read extremely carefully, and then one day Una heard Jerry speaking on the phone, to Ingelside. And the heavy weight seemed to have landed on Una's chest. If Jerry went, that meant that Jem, too was going and if Jem, then...

Almost every day, since the proclamation, young men left Glen, and they returned in uniform, Una had already begun to hate its color, the unspoken color. Weeks flowed by as July and then August came.

Some girls walked the streets of Glen proudly, glowing, those whose brothers were already in training camps or on their way to recruitment offices. Faith was pale, the roses on her cheeks had dimmed. Nan was silent, this silence was ominous, as she was usually so vivd and gleaming with arguments, Una noticed as she went to take Rosemary's bakings to Susan.

Di sat next to Nan, as if protecting her from too much attention, or questions, and there was no sing of Walter, he wasn't even in the Rainbow Valley, as Una had peeked there. Then as Una had asked after Walter, and his wellbeing Di´s eyes had flashed, with some strange emotion, and she had replied "Walter wanders round a lot, but is on the evenings at Rainbow Valley, if there is something urgent, or you could leave a note?" Una shook her head and said, "I had nothing important, just something related to music."

There was delicate abrasions on Rilla's feet, they looked bad, swollen, and painfull, as she sat on the porch writing a letter she seemed to attach great importance to, and Una recommended "Try goose fat with a little mint, it will help."

Rilla just glanced at her strangely icy pale cold way, and flounced away, taking the paper with her, she had hummed the Hesitazion Waltz, so that letter was maybe to Ken Ford, then Una pondered, as she went back to Manse and to her duties.

Time seemed to float, and speed up.

The whole of Glen seemed to be in the station, in attempt to give Jem and Jerry and other lads, form all over the villages a proper send off. The hustle and bustle of the crowd made Una's head spin, and she was well aware that Walter was standing next to Anne Blythe, Anne, whose face was as white as her son's. Somewhere in the distance, Una heard her father's emotional, resonant voice say, "Our thoughts are all with you, go with the blessings of God!"

The people cheered, as Jem kissed Faith, in public, Una glanced at her sister, she glowed like a summer rose, and there was some golden glint on her neck, a chain of somesort. And then, the train set off, it had disappeared behind a bend.

Little variegated, Dog Monday ran, on the pier, and howled heartily. All the excitement in the crowd suddenly stopped, and the people, the villagers one by one, went to their usual chores, and suddenly Una heard a mocking voice say "Ingelside´s Sissy Walter didn't leave, unlike my brother, brave Dan, and Jem, and the priest's son, and countless others. Maybe university education is more important to him than defending his own country."

Mary Vance's familiar sharp voice said, "Ethel, don't sow your poison in the wind, today. This day is heavy for everyone, and I happen to know that your brother has never been an angel, and everyone else knows it. Walter once bested him in a fight, so be quiet, or I'll show you what I learned while living in an orphanage. The years at Cornelia have not sharpened all my edges."

Una looked at Mary, the blonde girl's blue eyes, that shade was almost white, had a very determined flicker, in them, and Ethel fearfully glanced at Mary and had soon disappeared from view.

Mary laughed and said, "Ethel is always a serpent, all Reese´s are. Do you remember when I promised I would only speak in proper way, when I got to Cornelia because of you, dear, dear Una. That promise have been kept, but it has cost me a lot, sometimes. You know Una, these ten years have been the happiest of my whole life, and now I must run to meet Miller. Old Kitty Alec does not want him to enlist, but I said to him, Miller, you love the sea and you know it, as I know you. Just bide your time a bit. And he just laughed at me and spun me around, as we were in the upper hay fields."And glowing shining Mary walked in her brisk way toward Carter Flagg.

Few days after Jerry and Jem had gone to training camp, Una walked towards Rainbow Valley, in twilight time. Its emerald green shady embroidered nooks, and crannies were comforting, amid all the turbulence. Suddenly a flash of red gleamed, next to the small bubbling ice cold fountain, sat Di and Walter, and the siblings seemed to be talking fiercely, so Una walked away lightly, stepping carefully between the swamp, the flowers and the wild mint, the tall grass and hay just trembled, and she hummed Elgar.

Una looked the clear sky as she sung, Evening scene in her crystal clear high treble, that Walter had paid such, loving compliments.

The aspen leaflets scarcely stir:
The river seems to think:
Athwart the dusk, broad primroses
Look coldly from the brink.

The deep peace of the Rainbow Valley glowed, as Walter glanced past Di, there had been one flash of blue, and the wind seemed echo one instant, a light, girlish soprano voice, that sounded like Una, but then it passed, or wind turned, and music was not heard anymore.

The red dots shone on Di´s cheeks as she whispered, "These are your poems, for I know your style, and your rhythmic patterns, but are they just an experiment in style? Their content, and their verses, seem as if you had read Whitman's Calamus poems and decided to make your own version of them, right? And then there's that red silk scarf around your neck, have you got it from Ken too? For the Creator knows that both of Aunt Leslies children seemed to be almost floating in silk, after their trip to Japan, years ago, you probably remember. Persis was a divine revelation that summer, all shining gold, and the blue silk of heaven, and Ken, in his white silk, stained with soil as Jem struggled him to the ground, before the ball game."

I remember, dear sister, very vividly in fact, but in answer to your question, the poems are new experiments with form, and I have come to the conclusion that, as Longfellow says,

Who love would seek,

Let him love evermore

And seldom speak;

For in love´s domain

Silence must reign.

Even the slightest color that was on Di's face drained away, and she whispered, "You must be mistaken.""Do you remember when I danced with you last August at the barn dance, and you wondered why I danced.

Di nodded.

"All the pieces in me that were scattered came together."

I don't understand why you haven't spoken to me, if you have found someone. Instead you're writing long letters to Ken and sneaking up with him on the porch, when he was here, chatting up to Alice. Di glanced at Walter's face, and his dark lashes that were wiping his cheeks, were trembling like a butterfly's wings. After a moment a silence arose that just stretched and seemed to ring.

Then Di said, in a pale, utterly toneless voice" the poems, all of them were about Ken, where they now." Then she stood up and left, her mind in a total turmoil, and in vaque way she heard Walter´s voice behind her pleading.

"Doss, wait!"

Di had started running, and the end of her brother´s sentence was lost to the wind. Her brother, her dreamy, other-half, that she had imagined she knew thoroughly, but she had not even imagined anything like this. It must be a misunderstanding, but in her heart Di knew it was not. Sudden cold sweep seemed to squeeze Di's soul, as she remembered verses from Wilde´s Ballad of Reading Gaol, that work had been written during hard labour, a conviction form gross indecency.

Di thought of lines written in his brother'sfamiliar handwriting, lines that shimmer, lightness, gloom and despair, were all mixed. The series of poems were nameless. But the emotion, there was no shroud, that could obscure it. Animalistic, livid, vivid, love´s various shades, all old Greek versions of different names for love, Eros, Agape, Philia, Mania, Ludus, Pragma.

Di shook her head, as she walked up the steps to Ingelside, and saw her mother, on the porch. Anne said "Darling, have you argued with Walter, he seems very distant, though these, last weeks have been extremely difficult for all of us." Di said lightly glancing at that face so similar to her own and said "Oh, mumsy Walter have showed me his new draft poems, and we have a little creative disagreement."

A light silver laugh flashed and Anne said, "Walter is too sensitive at times, do you want me to talk to him?"

Di shook her head.

Have I lost my sense of him? Di pondered as she combed her hair, and listened the slight sounds of Nan turning around, in the room shared by the twins of Ingelside. Then too soon, it seemed pale morning light shone through the curtains, her face pale and her red hair mussed, Di recalled one particular verse of her brothers´s work, it was different, vivid, and almost joyful. With determined steps Di rose and rapped her brother's door, three times, it was their own signal.

Walter's gray eyes were cloudy from sleep, but they widened in astonishment, and he nodded lightly as he let Di inside.

Di crossed her ankles, straightened her back, and said softly, "Walt, I'm sorry that I ran away yesterday, from Rainbow Valley. If you want to talk, I'm here, and I'm listening."

Walter glanced at her.

Di was pale, but she had a familiar flicker in her large gray-green eyes, and her chin was slightly raised, so she was giving him a benefit of a doubt or an olive branch?

So, sighing lightly, Walter said"No Doss, everything is now as it should, as you read the poems and that is enough."And with soft voice Walter recited that same verse that Di had been pondering over.

I know all of these words of love towards you,

you laugh,

I know

as your dark eyes flash.

Do you remember our August all around us?

The ripe fields,

the hay

and the twinkling sea

I hear your voice sometimes in the wind.

There was a glow in Walter's eyes that was indescribable, as if a distant call echoed in his ears, and it had nothing to do with their conversation, just moments before. Di felt that her dear brother was sliding farther away, had been slipping for some time, and she had not noticed it. The incisive pain sliced Di's heart, and softly, she embraced her brother.

With a little hesitation, Walter touched her back, it was normal, as Walter almost never took the initiative in embraces. Softly Di said, "Walt I am so happy that you will also come to Redmond, with us, with Nan and I. The English department do not know what will hit it."

Walter disengaged from the embrace, and a light shadow flickered on his familiar and beloved feature´s as he said quietly.

"Yes."

A/N: All the poetry that Walter writes, if not otherwise indicated in the chapters are my own, that I wrote for this story in mind, and for him.