As the train pulled into Lowbridge station, Di glanced out the window and remarked, "Alice, aren't those your parents?" Alice was startled, and reached to see, as she did so, she found that, Di had been right. Beneath the shadowy, somewhat ornate canopy that crowned the Lowbridge station stop, stood the large, balding figure of Dick Parker, clad in a dark suit and colorful striped waistcoat, and beside him stood Theresa, her tawny hair was under be-ribboned straw-hat, her outfit, the cut of which had gone out of fashion ages ago, and which Alice remembered from Brünn's spring.

Di inquired curiously, "Alice, your mother seems a bit strained, and high strung. What exactly is she doing?" Alice, sighed lightly, and said, "From my father's and sister's letters, I have got the impression that Mother, does not move much outside our house, she only attends to to Laidies Aid's gatherings. And that handiwork of hers, is only light cotton yarn, she weaves a new bedspread again, it takes time to make each star-like square."

The train braked violently, and Nan's volume of Tennyson fell to the floor. Alice gathered her things and lightly Alice embraced Di. Nan, Alice found, was partly turned away, and seemed absorbed in her Tennyson, almost too closely. Di, glanced at Alice, gravely, and smiled at her, saying, with a meaningful emphasis, "We always have a place with lilac trees if Lowbridge, Ingelside, or its environs are too much." And with a faint, wistfull smile, Alice lifted her skirts, and began to drag her trunk down the corridor.

Nan, tapped Tennyson almost in protest, and remarked in a curious voice, "Which lilac trees, and where?" Di, did not answer, because her whole attention was fixed on the small tableau behind the window. Mrs Parker and Alice seemed to be looking at each other, like two strange cats, and then Mrs Parker seemed to embrace Alice, extremely gently, and she seemed to say something to her. Soon the Parker family was out of sight, as the train rolled away towards Glen.

Then, Ingelside's coziness was around the twins, familiar and loving. Everything seemed to be in place, as before. The birds were chirping in the garden, and Susan was making tea. The only change was, the fresh flowers in front of Walter's photo, as it had been in Christmastime. Nan looked around the living room, and sat down in an armchair, on the small table there were two ivory knittinh needles stuck in a ball of gray yarn - and when she saw them, a small smile lit up in her eyes. And a little shy Rilla inquired, "Do you want them back Nan?" Nan shook her head, and said gently, "Well, dear Spider, what has happened here, tell me all you can, for letters do not always describe Glen's glowing life" And listening to Rilla's passionate and enthusiastic explanation of the activities of the Red Cross Youth Department, and the great success that had been a collaboration between Lowbrige and Glen, and unfortunately Irene Howard's performance had also been one of the highlights of the evening.

Nan hid her smile and said, "We had visitors in Primrose Hollow too, didn't we Di?" Di glanced in Gertrude's direction, she said cheerfully, flipping through the sheet music on the piano, "Persis Ford came over, and she was planning on sending Ken a care package, with tin of bisquits, books, and maybe something stronger too, I think you got some inspiration from that for your next package for Jerry, didn't you Nan?"

Nan nodded, and then she noticed how Rilla's cheeks suddenly flushed, and she had disappeared up the stairs, saying in a hurried sounding voice, "Jims must have woken up from his nap." Suddenly Anne Blythe's silvery voice came from the verandah, "Dear, dear children, come to tea!"

The fragrant strong tea poured into rosebud cups, as Anne looked at her girls, Rilla dressed in white, who sat next to Jims, patient and feminine, her red-brown curls tied with a green ribbon, the sufferings of the past months were still visible in Nan's face, a certain kind of maturity that Anne herself also recognized, instinctively. Nan sat with her back straight in her pink dress, a dreamy look in her eyes. Humming, Di cut into a steaming fresh bun, the sleeve of her pearl gray dress almost tangled in the jam, gray color of it, perfectly accentuating Di's red hair, and the creamy paleness of her skin. Anne felt her heart almost burst with joy, when she noticed that Di's fingers were slightly ink-stained in the same way that Nan's cuticles were.

And clearing her throat, Anne said cheerfully, "Susan can testify that when I got your news Di, there was quite a stir here. I'm so happy and proud of your achievement, a proper publishing deal, and not a serial publication, in a newspaper, at that! If I can give one piece of advice, don't be discouraged, by that long process, also don't let anyone add potential advertising slogans to your work, even if they would be perfectly crafted." Di glanced at Nan in astonishment, and Nan silently formed the words, "Averil's Atonement."

So laughing softly, Di took Anne's hands between her own, and said with the utmost warmth, " Mumsy, that's a promise I can gladly make. In Primrose Hollow, nobody uses Rollings' reliable baking powder, not since the first time Alice bought it and we explained it to her."

Anne shook her head, and laughingly said, "I hope Alice was understanding, for Susan thinks my grudge against that product is pointless, but I can still remember the humiliation too clearly, even though I used the reward money extremely practically. But, now my darlings, tell me the latest news from Redmond? I personally remember that coming home was always a joyful, but also a little sad time, because people of Patty's Place always dispersed for the summer, although of course letters were written, but with you four, the matter is a little different, as Alice is only at Lowbrige, but Faith is far-away, following her calling, on her way to misty and crowded London. That reminds me, when we were in London, years ago, we went to Covent Garden, because a doctor-acquaintance of Gilbert's had got extra tickets. We saw Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro, the performance was unforgettable, and lately I have often thought about the Countess's melancholy, as time passes, as the illusions of youth are shattered."

A thoughtful silence fell, and then Gertrude said briskly, " Mozart is always Mozart, but Anne, you were asking about Redmond's news before you got lost in reminiscing about Gilbert's and yours cultural experiences?"

Anne smiled a little distantly at Gertrude, and threw a broken biscuit at her, which Jims caught for himself with quick fingers. Nan, tipped her teacup to a saucer, and said softly, " Traditional Convocation was canceled because of the war, but Faith's class went ahead with the greatest applause, in the auditorium, and one of the highlights of the spring season was the exclusive Spring Soiree, to which we got tickets, thanks to dear Dorian. I was there, as well as Alice, and the evening was quite wonderful, and surprising." "Was it arranged by Redmond's broad of Trustees, then,"

Anne inquired. Nan wiped her lips with a napkin and said, "No, Mumsy, it was organized by socialite Christine Stuart Dawson, and partly by the Gardiner family, I think, in one of Kingsport's most prominent hotels. The evening was full of crystal chandeliers, flower arrangements, and patriotic glamour, and there were a few performances including very wonderful serenade-like rendition of, Roses of Picardy. "

Rilla sighed, as she was wiping Jims face, she said, "That song is so touchingly romantic that every time I hear it somewhere I get a real thrill. Well hopefully, now that Alice is back, maybe she could perform more, even if she can be quite strange sometimes, cause i'm totally fed up with Irene's airs as if she's the only one who can perform around in these parts." Nan and Di laughed softly at their little sister's passionate declaration.

Nan, said in her mischievous way that she still sometimes had, "Dear Rilla, you may get what you wish for, but no promises, for Alice and Irene are sometimes really capable of cooperation, though it may seem strange to us, I witnessed that miracle during spring soiree." Di said, "The biggest controversy will probably be the choice of repertoire, because Alice has very strong opinions at times, and Irene is not shy either. It would be fun to be a fly on the windowsill, during those possible conversations, on the other hand, they will need an accompanist."

Gertrude Oliver, glancing at the Ingelside twins sitting by her side, said calmly, in her enigmatic way, "Perhaps I could do it, if any occasion should be arranged, for music tends to cheer people's feelings, and at such times joy is precious." Gertrude watched Anne's face and she noticed that a small shadow was passing over her clear features, as Di raised her voice and said "By chance, or maybe desing, that same Christine met me at Gardiner Hall a few months ago, she asked me to give you her warmest greetings in honor of your mutual old Redmond days. She also said that you didn't know each other very well, was that true, Mumsy?"

Anne, stiffened, for Di's words had awakened old memories, that were already half buried in the happiness of a lifetime, of the moment when Anne had caught a glimpse of Gilbert at the edge of the full dance-floor, and by his side, with a gloved hand on Gilbert's arm, had stood Christine Stuart, that handsome tall, girl whose appearance almost exactly matched Anne's childhood dreams, apart from large hands, and long nose, she had, rose-leaf, complexion, raven hair, in curls, and deep violet eyes, it had been almost too cruel. By her side Royal had said in his melting tone, in a delighted strain in his lovely tenor, "Look, my Titian Goddess, dear Christine has arrived at Convocation, our families go a long way, but next to her seems to be that Gilbert Blythe, chap, so strange, that, but I know that Christine is such good company, Blythe is lucky, but not so happy as I am, for I have the prettiest girl in the whole hall by my side."

And taking a sip of lemonade, Anne, with a start, resurfaced from her memories, finding Di waiting a little impatiently for an answer, so Anne, said in her soft voice, choosing her words with utmost care, "Christine was always musical, and she loved to perform, and to be on display, it's true that we didn't really walk in the same circles, even though we were enrolled at Redmond around the same time. I haven't thought Christine for years, last I heard from her, she was living in Manitoba, but anything can happen over the years, so has she shown any interest in you, or Nan then?"

Nan chuckled brightly, and said, "No, not much, just normal politeness, to me she looks like a velvet-furred cat waiting for a cup of cream, all that feline-like charm, don't you agree Di?" Di, stroked her hems thoughtfully, and said "She was utterly charming towards me, all serene grace, and sweet compliments, but on the other hand, I got the impression that she was waiting for me to say something, and when I didn't say what she expected, she joined her cavalier to the dance floor, for we were at the Ball. But still, I see what you mean, Nanlet, that certain superiority, it's just the way of her circle, for sometimes Dorian has similar mannerisms, you must have noticed?" Nan glanced in Di's direction, and the twins burst into soft, ringing laughter.

Rilla sighed, and looked at the soft clouds, and listening to her sisters' stories, a little ambition began to rise in her, perhaps she too could go to Redmond, at least to see what amusements there were to be had, after the war was over, for the descriptions of the glittering ballrooms, and tall library rooms seemed lovely, but studying itself still didn't appeal to her, she was still the lily of the valley of the Blythe family, and she had to keep her promise to Walter, and to stay close to Mumsy, and to help her.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves in the garden, and the breeze brought a light jingle of bells from Rainbow Valley as Susan brought a small cake made from wartime recipes to the table, as Anne cut it. Gilbert leaned against the gate, looking at his family, they seemed to be chatting animatedly on the verandah, as Anne looked in his direction, and stretched out her arms, a loving, welcoming smile spreading radiantly across her beloved features.

Gilbert leaped over the fence, and, carefully going round the flower-beds, ran to his wife, taking her in his arms, and as he did so, he heard the voices of his children faintly in the background, as he sank momentarily into the scent of Anne's hair.

Susan said, "Well, that's a proper greeting, don't look, little Kitchener, Susan has a piece of cake for you, and of course for the Doctor too. No strawberry tart yet, unfortunately, but as soon as the berries are ripe I'll make one, whatever the situation on the front."

Few days later, in still evening hours, after the daily cozy chaos had subsided, Anne walked through her children's rooms, Nan wrote to Jerry, Rilla had been sewing a vermin-shirt, her diary was half open on her desk, but Di was nowhere to be seen, finally, Anne walked up the stairs to Walter's room, and there she found her daughter. Di was sitting in Walter's room, reading from a relatively thick volume, Yellow Book vol II, was written in decorative type on the spine.

And curiously Anne said, "That seems like a pretty heavy read, who did you get it from?" Di, glanced at Anne and in the shadowy room, Di's features were shadowed, and her eyes seemed very green as she replied, "I borrowed it from Dorian's Aunt, Dorothy, who by the way remembers you most fondly." Anne laughed, and said, "Dorothy was a real sweetheart, back in the day, and it's nice that she seems to have kept her old promise, to help my children if they happened to end up in Redmond. Has she been helpful to you?" Di's fingers caressed the cover of the book, and she said softly, in a slightly hoarce voice, "Yes, she has helped me tremendously." Anne's brows narrowed as she pointed out, " Darling, you can tell me the secrets of your heart if you want to, Nan does it sometimes." Di, raised her face to the light, and she smiled a little wistfully, and said "It's just so painful to be here, in this room, and to know he's never coming back here again. And besides, I happened to read a poem a couple of hours ago that brought him to my mind, though indeed the author of this is an english poet, named Charlotte Mew, and it was written a couple of years ago, in May, 1915, can I read it to you Mumsy?" Anne nodded, and Di recited from a slip of paper, the following short verses in a soft voice.

Let us remember Spring will come again

To the scorched, blackened woods, where the wounded trees

Wait, with their old wise Patience for the Heavenly rain,

Sure of the sky: sure of the sea to send its Healing breeze,

Sure of the sun. And even as to these Surely the Spring, when God shall please, Will come again like a Divine surprise

To those who sit to-day with their great Dead, hands in their hands, eyes in their eyes At one with Love, at one with Grief: blind to the scattered things and changing skies.

When the poem ended, Anne's eyes were moist, and she said hoarsely, "Oh, Di, you're right, that really resembles your brother's work, what happiness and joy, and sadness lies in those lines." And quietly, Anne and Di sat side by side and reminisced of Walter´s old antics, and his joy of springtime in its various guises.

A couple of hours later, Gilbert said lazily, "Anne-girl, you seem so far away, even though you're right here next to me." Anne raised her wide gray-green eyes to meet Gilbert's twinkling hazel, ones, and entwined her fingers in Gilbert's curls, that were slightly frosted with a touch of grey, saying, a little defiantly, "We've been so happy, all these years, haven't we?" In lieaux of verbal reply, Gilbert pressed a soft kiss to her nose, where a smattering of small sun spots were, and Anne sighed with satisfaction, for faint specter of past jealousy had been banished, for years Gilbert had been by her side, faithful, willing, polite, and later, passionately loving, as their love had indeed bloomed into full flower.

Gilbert, glanced out of the corner of his eye at the thick silken red braid tickling his cheek as Anne's arms wrapped around him. He smiled happily as the worries of everyday life of Glen, faded away, at her touch. Anne had been in a more open and demonstrative mood than usual in the last few days, maybe it was just a result of their dear lassess, as they were at home, for a while. Dear old Ingelside didn't feel so empty anymore, with Nan and Anne's confidental conversations, amid Rilla's hustle and bustle, of her Red Cross Division running all hours to Ingelside, as usual, then there was too, Di and Gertrude's lively discussions about music flavoring the slow lovely afternoons, as the sun glimmered on Walter´s photograf and Jekyll hunted shadows on the walls.

Alice raised the hems of her dress, which were stained with light reddish road dust, and she leaned against the ornate wrought-iron gate, as she looked at the familiar sight, of Lowbridge spread out before her, for her childhood home was on a small hill, if she squinted she could see the school-house where beloved Walter had taught, and also Mrs. Collings' house, and the great shady tree growing in its grounds. Over the years, Lowbridge had only grown in size, and its outskirts were overcrowded, with slums, some residents said. And with a light sigh, Alice thought of the well-grassed grave, where the trembling leaves of the lilac bush still cast their shadows, in the Episcopal churchyard of Lowbridge, there was Tadzio´s grave, left totally untended, as Alice had spent hours after her return from Redmond digging stubborn weeds away. Then she had sat gone to sit, in shadowy peace, and she had remembered her boys togheter, and their lovely time, and afterwards there had only been Walter and her, united over sorrowful, and sometimes also playful moments in this very same spot, and now there was only her, keeping the memory of their hidden, forbidden sentiment, alive. She had left boquet of springflowers tied together with a mauve colored ribbon, near the linchen and moss spotted gravemarker. The ribbons had floated in the wind, as Alice almost could hear strands of Tadzio´s violin in the wind, that slight, glimmering sound, that had been like pure sunlight and shadows entwined, but then there had been light laughter of a child across the mossy-stone fence, and the spell had broken.

Stretching Alice lifted the basket on her arm and walked inside, into the cool house of her youth and childhood. There was finely crocheted lace curtains in front of the large windows, and the living room was spotlessly clean, as always, there was lingering scent of lemonverbena. Alice's eyes lingered on the row of photographs on the dresser. There was a neat pile of cream-colored writing paper, and the ink bottles were ready for use. Alice noticed that the embroidered cushion covers were neatly trimmed on the back of the couch, there was a faint smell of pipe tobacco and hair oil in the air.

There was a clatter from the kitchen, and Alice made her way there. She put the wicker basket on the big oak table, and started putting the shopping in the cupboards, and in the cold room, and with a soft smile she glanced at her father, who was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a confused look on his face. So curious Alice inquired, "What are you without?"

Dick Parker, glanced at Alice, rubbing his moustache, said in a gruff manner, "Your mother made a modified version of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte a couple of days ago, in honor of your coming home from Redmond, as she had saved a couple of jars of cherry jam, as well as liquor. All day I thought I'd eat one slice, but now slices of the cake, and the plate is nowhere to be seen." Alice glanced at the small calendar hanging on the wall, and said conciliatoryly, "The rest of the cake must have gone to the Laidies Aid meeting, for offerings, but if you're hungry, I can make you some dampfnudels, if we only have enough vanilla, or maybe koláčes, because we have flour, but I will have to be creative with the stuffing, jam would probably do the trick."

Dick Parker looked at Alice with a smile and said gently, "It's not right, our dear nightingale, that after only a couple of days coming home you immediately start cooking for us, even though you've had cooking shifts at Redmod. I'll just have a few jam buns and go back to my client files, but if you happen to put a kettle on, I'd love to have a cuppa."

A bit later, on a delicate tray, decorated with flowers, Alice placed small light blue teapot bought from Brünn and the delicate mug, that goes with it, to her father's office. That room, it was filled with late sunlight, it sparkeld on the doors of tall cabinets over filled with medical books, and instruments. On the walls were few framed diplomas, and memorabilia, from old patients form all over. Dick's worn leather bag, was open on a small shelf, along his frayed hat. The air smelled of carbolic soap and cologne. Alice smiled at her father, who was humming some familiar-sounding tune in a low voice. Alice asked, "What is that song?" Dick Parker looked up from his filled sheets and said "It was Strauss, Morgen, it used to play everywhere when Therese and I were courting, in that one splendid spring, and I have many memories of that beautiful time. The notes can be found in the gray box, in our attic if you happen to be interested."

The attic of Parker House was shadowy place, flame of the oil lamp swayed with the slight current of air, for the window was open. All around her were dark heavy trunks as dust made her eyes water as Alice was crouched next to a battered little gray box, eventually she got it to open, and flipping through the old sheet music, she wiped a few folders clean with a rag. Hour or so later, Alice, sat anew with a fresh cup of tea by her side, in the living room table as she began to examine the music folders, several of them had some kind of autograph on the frontleaf, but it was so indistinct and elaborate that Alice couldn't make it out.

When Theresa Parker entered her home, after a heavy but well-rounded Laidies Aid meeting, she was startled to find Alice standing dusty-faced in the middle of the living room, surrounded by music folders that Therese hadn't seen in decades, so she exclaimed earnestly, "Mein Gott, where have you found Lottchen's sheet music?" Alice glanced at Therese as she softly hummed that haunting, romantic note that Therese recognized, so she quietly uttered, Strauss, Morgen, if I´m not mistaken. Alice nodded, her face had brightened, so feeling little moved, Therese said, "Lotte practiced that song countless times back in the day, as did everybody else, for it was a real hit in the 1890s. Now I can say as you have found that sheet music, I think you must have inherited your aunt's voice, because I was never musically gifted, unlike Lotte, but in those days music was part of our upbringing, so I too dabbled along a bit. You seem surprised, perhaps you imagined that we have a piano because everyone else does? You probably don't remember, that I played, because I played mostly before you were born, and often in the evenings when your father had come from his rounds. "

Hearing her mother's most surprising words, Alice held out the sheet music, with slightly trembling hands. Therese wiped her cold hands on her dark skirt, and sat down at the worn piano, and opened the rattling sheet music, the notes were as clear as if they had been drawn only yesterday, the dust smelled in the air, and a couple of withered roses and violets fell from between the notes onto the piano keys, and carefully Alice moved those signs of withered love aside. And Therese said, smiling softly at her daughter, "Well, let's see what we can do." The caressing soft G minor chords of the piano broke almost hallowed silence with a gentle sweeping note, and then Alice, taking a deep breath, began to sing, glancing at the sheet music, and verses that had been pressed there in old fashioned fracture-style.

Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen

Und auf dem Wege, den ich gehen werde,

Wird uns, die Glücklichen, sie wieder einen

Inmitten dieser sonnenatmenden Erde ...

Und zu dem Strand, dem weiten, wogenblauen,

Werden wir still und langsam niedersteigen,

Stumm werden wir uns in die Augen schauen,

Und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen.

Hearing the glimmering, dreamy strains of Strauss to his study, Dick Parker smiled, remembering the golden dreams of his youth, he lit his pipe, and turned a new clean page from his notebook.

Afterwards, Alice said a little awkwardly, "Thank you for meeting me at the station, and for baking Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, which happens to be my favorite. Somehow it always feels like we're talking past each other about everything, even though I don't think it should be quite like that."

Therese Parker, dropped her sewing, her thimble, glimmering in the light, like a silver spark, and she answered slowly, "I've realized over the course of this year that I've been perhaps too demanding of you in the past. You're my last child, your elder sister lives with her husband's family, among them, your brothers are at the front, and your cousins across the seas as well, except for the lovely Magdalena. I was brought up to believe that daughters were to be prepared for marriage, though education also played an important part in upbringing, and your sister was exemplary, she married young, and judging by her letters, is happy. You may well think me old-fashioned, but I chose your father, and I moved halfway across the world to be his wife. We've been happy in our own way, it's been a quiet and modest happiness perhaps, we're not rich, and because of our travels, and of your father´s line of work, you have experienced the world and its wonders more widely than maybe your peers, not to mention your language skills, that you all have. But you've been different from your siblings since childhood, I compared you to Lotte before, and that's partly true, but not quite. You're reserved and aloof, like me. I've taught you to cook and sew and bake as one should, but you always seem to be reaching higher, looking for something more. I never did quite know how to respond to that nameless shadow of ambition lurking in your vivid eyes. Now, I just want to say that I hope you get what you're looking for, wheather it is career in music, or something totally else. Above all else, I want you to be as happy in your life as I have been."

Alice said in a soft voice, " You have given me a lot to ponder about."

Therese Parker, sighed, and she said," Finally a word of warning, meine lieben, do not speak or sing German, or Czech, outside these walls, for at the moment the atmosphere in Lowbridge is very hostile, and even when you visit Ingelside, be wary. Two weeks ago a person living in the slums was driven out of the town, as some passer-by mob thought he was speaking German, when in fact he was fluent and emphatic Creole, as you father reported me afterwards, as he was called to sort that debacle out. That poor boy was almost lynched, in consequense, he slept in your room for a few days, before your father helped him to train bound to Charlottetown, with a money and overflowing hamper of food, he was dressed one of your bothers old clothes. This is just a warning if some of the residents look at you suspiciously, as our marriage is again the talk of the town, a fact that I hate, and that's partly why I took the rest of the cake to the Laidies Aid meeting today, as a sweet treat always calms the worst gossip, usually, but it doesn't always help. I could tell that nearly everyone present wanted the recipe, except gray Sophia Crawford, who was muttering into her handkerchief something like "the immoral delicacies of the huns, soon all the girls here, unlike at the Glen, will look like they're getting pneumonia." Fortunately, nobody almost ever listens to her words."

Alice wriggled her fingers thoughtfully, and said "Well, that explains it, because earlier the atmosphere was quite chilly when I entered the store, and did the food shopping you had requested, by our coupons."

The wall clock chimed.

Soft silence fell once again in the living room as Alice had slipped upstairs. Twenty minutes later, as she was looking from the living room window, Therese Parker saw Alice's slender figure in light purple cotton dress, climbing up the verdant hill towards Episcopal Church of Lowbridge.

Then there was a pure scent of colonge, and Therese smiled, as she heard her husbands slow tread, as Dick said, "My dear, you did the right thing today. You should have played piano years ago, in front of Alice. We should have known that if any bridge was built between you, and her, then music was one way to do that, for our dear nightingale is really rightly named, as that Strauss was really brilliant. Do you remember when we sat, in that ornate gazebo, a couple of days after we first met, and the busker played that, and everybody around us danced."

Therese Parker, glanced at Dick, under her lashes, she then stroked his hand warmly, and rested her tawny head against his sturdy shoulder as Dick's words had transported her to a rain-scented spring afternoon, when she had listened with an open heart to the inspired speech of quite peculiar auburn-haired, slightly ruddy youth, as much as the clingingly romantic Strauss.

Alice sat in the stillness of Compline, and around her the congregation breathed as one as the various parts of the liturgy unfurled around them, and the colorful windows flashed. But Alice was far from calm, for, the discoveries in the attic, and the sincerity that had been in her mother's voice, had been startling, amid old confessions, especially making music together, with the person from whom she would have least expected it, had thrown her mind into turmoil.

And the old bit of resentment and incomprehension that had been in her heart for years slowly began to melt, as Alice realized that perhaps her mother understood her in some way, because she gave her the freedom to experiment, pursue her dreams, without the shackles of engangement, or marriage, her earlier demand for Redmond enrollment had finally been withdrawn, as it had not even alluded. Alice fixed her eyes on the ceiling, then to the pulpit, and finally to choir's designated spot, but luckily the hymn Ave Maria Stella was not played from the organ, probably because the cantor's fingers were so twisted.

Alice took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, and as she did so, she remembered moment during Spring Soiree, when, driven by a momentary sure intuition, and possessed by the sudden flood emotion of the memory of Walter's last letter, she had agreed to Dorian's request. She had found Christine Stuart Dawson conversing with Royal Gardiner, in a small side room, there had been elaborate divan, dark velvet curtains, a crystal decanter half full of claret had glistened on the table, like blood, and for a moment she would have liked to turn back into the ballroom, but steeling herself, Alice walked up to the couple, politely saying , "Sorry to bother you, but I have a suggestion for you Mrs Stuart Dawson, and also for Irene Howard, if she could be found."

Royal Gardiner had stood by Christine's Stuart Dawson´s side, sardonic sheer amusement had radiated from his being, as he had glanced at Alice, just one sweeping look, then he had said, in his drawn-out way, "How utterly charming, we shall surely experience wonders!" Alice had flushed, as a hint of irony in his velvet tones had been clear, but then Christine Stuart Dawson had said somewhat pointedly, "Roy." Gardiner had glanced in dark-haired woman´s direction, quickly and nodded, as he had left the room, turning on the threshold, dramatically, exclaiming, "Well I leave you two now to blissfull and tender mercies of Eutrepe, the muse of music, and follow Terpsichore's enchanting call."

Christine Stuart Dawson had asked the hotel clerk to look for Irene Howard, and not before too long, Irene had also been standing in a small room that luckily happened to have a piano and a pile of sheet music, and ornate mirror on other side of the room, it glistened in the light. Christine had glanced at Alice, expectantly, and said, "Well, you obviously had a proposal in mind." Alice, glanced at Irene, as she began to explain, somewhat breathlessly, and as Alice watched, a spark, a desire for performance ignited in both Irene and Christine, as they both nodded. Then Christine said, in her darkly hued clear cut voice, "Normally I'd sing Carmen's card aria, myself, but since you're a mezzo too, this is a perfect test for you, my dear, to see if you can carry a scene like this, so I'll sing Mercedes. Fraquita, is for dear Irene naturally." Irene had inclined her honeyblond tresses, with the slight nod, of satisfaction, as she had glanced at the sheet music, of Bizet´s crowdpleaser.

And later as Bizet's searingly fatal music had glowed, and subsided, like a wave crashing on the shore, and as the applause and roses rained down, all three of them had joined hands, and thanked the audience, in that moment, Christine Stuart Dawson's dark satin glove had pressed, warmly demanding, Alice's hand. Alice had been startled, for the touch had been, surprising, and utterly intimate and, Christine Stuart Dawson had given her a barely perceptible, nod before she had signaled to the orchestra, and the Weiner waltzes had begun, again.

After Compline was over, Alice walked in the bluish evening, enjoying the peace of Lowbridge, she found once again that sleeping alone was a challenge, for months she had become accustomed to the warmth of Di by her side, Di who was only in Ingelside, no not very far, but this was Glen, and not Kingsport, nor the sanctuary of Primrose Hollow, where locked door was a promise. Sighing, Alice started walking, towards Glen, for she clearly remembered Nan's severe words, when Jerry was wounded, they had held a glimmer of fear, fear above all for Jerry's and also for Di's well being and their family's reputation, which was considerable. And even though the peace was built, between them, and everyday life went on peacefully, in the Hollow, full of laughter and joyful togetherness, Alice, still sensed the unspoken disapproval emanating from Nan at times, which clearly stated, "You're not blood related, to me, so I won't make an exception for you, like I do for my twin." Alice had heard rumors and hearsay about clannishness of the Blythe family, but now she felt the cutting edge of that particular family pride directed at her.

The small gate, which had previously been almost sunk to the ground and overgrown with grass, had been renovated and repainted. In a daze, Alice looked at the dim landscape before her, the tall, jungle of lilac bushes still dominated that little garden, and the apple trees were still there, but the cottage, the slanted windows had been covered in thick dust, and the paint, which had deteriorated, had been restored. There was a sign, it was placed by the side of the path, it read Cottage along with a Garden for Rent or Sale. And out of breath, Alice crept into the garden and sat down on a little bench, which had also been repainted, and in the sweet fragrant May evening, as the blackbird chirped its evening song, slowly hot tears began to flow down Alice's cheeks, for the winds of change had also at last reached this little corner.

All over Glen, and further towards Lowbridge, shady hollows were full, of mayflowers. Bruce Meredith, carefully jumped over the ditch, and swept his breeches, in one hand he held a bouquet of fair, dainty flowers, wrapped in a handkerchief, and as he climbed up the slope Bruce smiled, for there Ingelside loomed. Anne Blythe looked dreamily before her, as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees like the most enchanting lace, and then she was startled when before her stood dark-haired, red-cheeked Bruce Meredith, and his little, long-fingered hand, boyishly held out a bunch of mayflowers, to Anne.

Bruce said in his quiet, thoughtful way, still childish trebel, " I brought these to you because Jem is not here now, and a fortnight ago I wrote to him and Jerry also. Jerry is much better now, he writes now by his own hand, it is no longer so shaky." Anne whispered, quietly, "Thank God for you my dear, the news you bring, they are wonderful."

Bruce looked at his dusty shoes, and said casually, "I said the same thing last month, when Meade's dog nearly took Stripey's life. I was so relieved to find my cat was alive that I almost yelled at Him, and afterwards I was interviewed, in Father's study, because apparently the Lord's name can only be recited, in a half voice, like you just now, or when the Father is doing his work in the pulpit on Sundays."

Soft, hazy piano music echoed from the living room, and Bruce's long lashed dark blue eyes began to shine, as he glanced around cautiously, and whispered in a confiding voice, "A Fairy visited the Manse yesterday, because Fairies always bring presents, don't they? The Fairy says she's Alice Parker, but I'm not sure about that, because of course she would pretend to be human, wouldn't she? Mother and Una sat with the Fairy all yesterday afternoon in the living room, drinking tea, oddly enough, they were all studying some papers that looked like sheet music, maybe it was Fairy music, because of course Fairies are musical, then they ate cherry jam and sour cream from West family heirloom plates, that was only proper way to honor one from Titania´s court, was it not. Then lovely smells wafted from the kitchen today, maybe we got few of Fairy Realms recipes, that would be lovely, for surely there is no shortage of sugar or war in their country!"

Anne suppressed her sincere urge to laugh, and said gravely and sincerely, "Believe in fairies as long as you like dear Bruce, for they do exist, they live on dewy flower petals, and hang in spider webs, and live inside scillas, and snowdrops." Bruce let out a very deep sigh, and glancing at the half-open window, he inquired, " Can I come in and say hello to Gog and Magog, and maybe see your piano, as I´m progressing well, Mother and Una both said so!"

Anne nodded, and she gently stroked Bruce's dark, silky hair, and suddenly, feeling the soft strands under her fingers, it was as if the years had rolled, and it was Walter by her side, again. Trembling, Anne closed her eyes, and Bruce's worried voice came from beside her, "Mrs. Blythe, there is really queer shade in your face." After some moments, Anne opened her eyes, and saw that the ever vigilant Susan had brought her a glass of water, and taken Bruce to see the china dogs, and after that the dark-haired boy attentively climbed on the piano chair and glanced at the notes that Gertrude and Di had left there. He seemed very pleased while humming a snach of melody, striding across the living room, and jumping onto the lawn, in a confusion of growing limbs.

Susan said, "Well, my boy, what are you thinking?" Bruce turned, and as he looked out over the glowing garden of Ingelside, and declared with satisfaction, "All the best people like both Elgar and various jams, I've noticed. I've been thinking for the last few weeks that if I had the power to decide I'd turn the German Emperor into a good man, for according to Aunt Ellen, he is the Devil in human form, with no conscience at all." And with his slight, tanned arms in the pockets of his breeches, Bruce Meredith started walking in the early evening haze, towards his home.

Watching him progress, Susan said, "He is truly Manse's child, conscience, discernment, and Rosemary's passion for music." Anne glanced towards, the little crystal vase on the verandah table where Bruce's flowers were placed, the late rays of the sun were glimmering in the prisms of the vase, making them sparkle, and at that moment, in the dawning of the enchantingly beautiful late May evening, the mayflowers really seemed to have come from some other, purer world.

Gertrude Olivier was walking past the Ingelside twins' room around twilight, time when a small fragment of conversation caught her ears, "Beloved Di, go to Lowbridge to see Alice, tomorrow afternoon if you can bear to leave your manuscript. What book have you been reading so intensively in the last few hours?"

There was a light rustle, and then Di replied a little sleepily, "You say that because you're tired of looking at my tired face at the breakfast table, as I have not been sleeping well, after we left Redmond and cozy Primrose Hollow. I have been reading The Count of Monte Cristo, and just now Louise ´d Armilly and Eugenie Danglars have run away from Paris, after a wedding that never happened."

Nan, sounded confused as she said, "I don't remember that plot from the novel at all." Di, chuckled and said, in a gentle loving tone, "Well, no wonder, because that novel is full of different characters and twists and turns, and what happens to Baron Danglars' daughter pales next to the suffering Mercedes, or the Count's revenge plots, or the themes of justice and mercy that forms the core of that work."

Gertrude, raised her eyebrows, and crept quickly out of earshot. As she was brushing her thick dark hair in her own rooms, Gertrude, flipped through her own volume of Dumas's novel, and suddenly the understanding that had been only half-hearted became a small certainty. Feeling troubled Gertrude collected her thoughts, for the atmosphere in Lowbridge had been tense when she had visited there two days before, on a few errands. There had been rumors, they had circulated the streets and it seemed that Dr. Parker's family was in the eye of the storm, there were hostile whispers about German sympathies. A little worried, Gertrude remembered that she had seen Alice Parker with her dainty hands dirty in Lowbrigde Episcopal Cemetery, looking after some grave, very mysterious, that, but on the other hand, gossip and hearsay were not worth putting too much weight into in these serious and difficult times, unless there was evidence or some immoral activity.

Gertrude glanced at the picture of her beloved Robert, and then her mind flashed to the grim headlines in the newspapers, which had been full of the Battle of Arras, which had been fought since the beginning of April, that joint offensive of the Western Allies, which had had to be scaled back when Russia withdrew in February from the common objectives.

In the twins' shadowy room, with a dreamy smile on her face, Nan tore open Jerry's latest letter. Narrow strips, rustled, and a small spring flower dripped onto her dressing table.

Dear Nan!

The trees and the terrain have been destroyed, but still there are signs of spring everywhere. The green grass grows, and French wildflowers sprout from the tilled earth, triumphant! I am attaching one to this letter because it reminded me of you. Conditions are busy here, as I'm sure you know from reading the newspapers, I can't say much, but due to being wounded I have not been involved in the latest attacks, but have done my part behind the lines in our camp, this information will surely put your mind at ease. In the evenings I re-read your letters, as well as my little pocket Bible. Looking at your handwriting is calming, thanks for your photo, it's absolutely lovely, and the Valley in the background is just the right choice! You will probably be back in the peace of Ingelside soon, and I have a small request for you. When you have time, go visit the Manse, because I know my family wants to see you, because they know, thanks to my correspondence, what you mean to me. I know we didn't agree anything official before I left here, a fact I bitterly regret. My father has something for you, I think.

Always yours

GM

Glittering tears dotted the torn and little smudged letterpaper, as Nan found, that there were severe, almost painful sting of gladness in her heart, that was born from Jerry´s utterly loving, and lovely words. So, with a blissfull smile Nan, pressed a small kiss, to Jerry´s photo, as the light slowly guttered out from twins room.

Royal Gardiner glanced at Christine Stuart Dawson, who was sitting opposite him, a little more searchingly than usual, and said, "For the last twenty minutes you've been looking at that fish dish of yours, with béarnaise sauce, as if the dish told you the war would finally end next week. Now Battle of Arras is finally over, but there is way to go yet, unfortunately. " Christine looked up, and said lightly, and pointedly, "I've just forgotten what a boring little trap Kingsport is in the spring when Redmond's term is over, and everyone who's anything have generally gone elsewhere, and I find myself wanting to travel again." Royal, filled their wine-glasses, with a splendid white wine, and said lazily, "Well, on the other hand, just go, there's nothing to stop you here, or are there?"

Christine, looked through the sheer soft curtains to Kingsport Street, and said "You're right, but drifting and frolicking gets boring, you know that. These last few weeks I've found myself wanting and needing to do something new, and exciting!"

Royal wiped his moustache, and remarked softly, " Sometimes I envy your freedom, even though we are both bound by the rules and customs of our class. Dorian has been buried in old correspondence for the last few days, and I think it's about time I took my son along to various cabinet meetings, gently, because the way he handled that Collings situation in your wonderful Spring Soiree was truly inspiring!"

Christine glanced at Royal with a light smile, and said pointedly, "But of course you haven't praised Dorian at all, and the young man might be quite confused if you suddenly began to pay attention to him, for if I remember correctly, you have more or less avoided him for years, although you have occasionally given advice to him. I think that if Valentine were still with us many things might be different at Gardiner Hall."

A beam of light danced across Royal's still handsome but slightly narrowed features, his signet ring glinting in the light, streaks of light gray showing through the dark curls. Royal glared at Christine, as he unrolled one of his cigars, and calmly began to smoke it. The spicy scent mingled with fish, white wine, and fresh flowers, and around them the Bluenose circles of Kingsport continued to lunch in a elaborately careless way, as ever.

Dorian Gardiner glanced curiously through the curtains of the library, someone seemed to be walking verdant and wide grounds of Gardiner Hall. Then, came Thompson's confident voice, "Mr Dorian, you are being asked, I directed the guest to a small bluish salon, and asked for tea to be brought there as well, as it is nearly teatime." Dorian nodded, and put away his Perennial-proofs for the day. In the bluish salon, there was a woman sitting on the couch. She seemed familiar, and then when she raised her face to the light, streaming from the windows Dorian, recognized her. Madeleine Dobson said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Young Mr. Gardiner, we have a lot to talk about, I suppose if you have time?"

A/N: Richard Strauss´s well-known and famous lied Morgen is his Op.27/4, it was composed in May 1894, for voice and piano. He did orcherstal version in 1897, the poem lyrics of the lied are by Strauss contemporary John Henry Mackay. Charlotte Mew(1869-1928) was British modernist poet, her first poetry collection was published in 1916.