Di Blythe, looked around Dorothy's drawing room with interested eyes, a light bittersweet peace filled her heart, for she suddenly knew that this atmosphere was what Walter had written her about in his last, lovely, sweet letter, which had been full of fatalism and encouragement. There are people, our shadow kindreds waiting for you to meet them, I think that before long you will find your way to Redmond's Corners that I didn't have time or dare to explore. Di impatiently brushed the stray strands from her hair behind her ears, thinking that she was doing her best to live as her brother had hoped, to not be stunned by her aching grief, that still came upon her, in waves, some days were easier than others, but she had Nan, her beloved twin, her presence helped a lot, as did keeping busy, there were not too much time to wallowing, as Mary Vance might say in her spicy way. Near the bookshelf, next to the large potted ferns, Madeline Dobson was talking in a low voice with Isabelle, the petite, self-conscious, reddish-brown-haired woman dressed in burgundy silk, had been an interesting acquaintance. Di wasn't quite sure if Isabelle was perhaps a colleague of Madeleine's, as she also did something related to the archives, or perhaps something more meaningful, for what little conversation between them, Di had witnessed, it had been full of half words, and long looks, a bit like what Di herself used with Nan, or had used with Walter and in some cases with Persis Ford, and Alice.

The air seemed to vibrate with the hum of varying conversation, and light bursts of laughter. On a small table, covered with a dark velvet cloth, was a small altar of yellow-covered books, and a collection of postcards spread out like a fan, with a small line of people in front of it, as Di's eyes swept over the table, and a small blush rose to her cheeks, for she had intimate memories, connected with a few postcards, and especially what those cards had inspired them, Alice and her, to try. With a slightly nervous gesture, Di drank one glass of cold lemonade that was in a large, beautiful container, hoping that the cold drink would ease the burning in her cheeks. And then, naturally her eyes searched the crowd for Alice's slim figure in lilac muslin.


Alice had only a couple of days before dyed one of her previously cream-colored dresses into pale lilac shade, and after seeing the result, Nan had remarked in her lively, thoughtful way, "Jerry loves pale lilac too, so I think I'll dye a few of my dresses too." And to that Alice had remarked warmly, " Nan, if you already know which dresses, give them to me, for I have another my old dresses soaking as we are chatting here, it is easier to make a proper batch at a time."

Nan had fetched her muslin, and then she had remarked, "Not that I only wear colors that Jerry likes, because that would be pointless, but it's nice to have different options to wear in summer-season, and it is economical to give new lease of life to old linen dresses. And besides, the lilac shade is half-mourning, isn't it so?"

Di had nodded, and Alice had swept her hair off her shoulders, and said, "Yes." Nan had nodded, then she'd shared a long, eloquent look with Di. Di had said " We mustn't forget for a moment our boys at the front, not one of them, not the living, or those who gave the great sacrifice to follow call of the Piper's flute, or their own convictions." Few hours later, there had been a whole bunch of dresses drying in the garden at Primrose Hollow, in light but warm wind.


Alice was lingering by the old gramophone, soon sparkling, music was ravishing in the room, and several of the guests in the salong, nodded their approval. Soon there was pairs dancing, soft sliding shadows were reflected on the window curtains. Alice slid over to Di and said in a slightly playful tone "Shall we?" And with a light nod, Di took Alice's warm hand, and said a little mischievously, "As long as you don't step on my toes." Alice's bright, bountiful, laughter rang out as they slipped into, intimate, crowd, where colorful, summer dresses, and more formal waistcoats and watch chains, and old-fashioned monocles, and pinstriped trousers, created an ambience of their own. Di smiled lightly as she noticed a woman winking at Alice and her. The woman had her green-striped tie askew, and her hair cropped short, and she danced with devotion, though completely out of step, to the beat of Ravel pouring out of the gramophone. Ravel's L'indifférent intoxicating notes glowed, and Di felt Alice's pulse thump against her collarbone and felt, rather than heard, Alice hum in low sultry half- tone, following lyrics of the aria.

Tes yeux sont doux comme ceux d'une fille,

Jeune étranger,

Et la courbe fine

De ton beau visage de duvet ombragé

Est plus séduisante encore de ligne.

Ta lèvre chante sur le pas de ma porte

Une langue inconnue et charmante

Comme une musique fausse. . .

Entre!

Et que mon vin te réconforte . . .

Mais non, tu passes

Et de mon seuil je te vois t'éloigner

Me faisant un dernier geste avec grâce,

Et la hanche légèrement ployée

Par ta démarche féminine et lasse. . . .

Di, pressed her lips to the root of Alice´s pink shell of an earlobe, and whispered. "We haven't exhausted all the possibilities of the silk ribbon yet, so who knows what inspiration will be found here today." Alice, glanced at Di from under her eyelashes, as she nodded faintly. Di smiled with dreamy satisfaction, for lately Alice had been in a pleasantly experimental mood.

Madeleine glanced at the dancing crowd, and she smiled happily, a little wistfully at how engrossed Di and Alice seemed to be in each other, let alone the others, and heard Isabelle half ask, "Lenie, you don't want to dance?" Madeleine shook her head, and she heard Isabelle's stifled exasperated sigh, and then Isabelle fixed her green eyes intently on Madeleine and she said pointedly, "You seem a bit absent tonight, even though you usually enjoy these gatherings more. Is your attitude because of those lovely young people, who perhaps don't understand properly what kind of safe haven this place is for us?" Madeline swept her skirts, as it was something to do, with her suddenly restless fingers, and said "No, the thing is, I got a letter, finally."

Isabelle stiffened, and a look of stunned disbelief spread across her smooth features, as Madeline noticed with amusement, so Madeline said in fond tone, "You look just like I imagined that you would." And somewhat stiffly, Isabelle said, "You were completely devastated for a very long time, so forgive me if I'm not quite jumping for joy now. You've been corresponding? How long has this been going on, and perhaps most important of all, why didn't you tell me straight away?!" Madeline said a bit pointedly, "You only knew me only after the fact, and you too have your past. Our circles are quite small."

Isabelle glanced around, and a slightly mischievously amused smile crossed her lips as she remarked, "Well, you're right. Did you happen to notice that Mathilde over there in the corner is looking your way murderously, as is Helena, and that surffragette with that unfortunate haircut, by Ernestine and Dorothy's erotica books and postcards, tries not to show her jealousy, as she carefully is browsing the display. " Suppressed hilarity flashed in Madeleine's eyes, and she said quietly, "Try to keep your predatory instics in control, and do not borrow trouble, not today, please. How are your catalogues?" Isabelle, shrugged her shoulders, and said in a light carefree tone that Madeline remembered from before, " WelI, for you I can try. I can't bring myself to talk about work, not today, when I have an evening off. Despite dear Dorothy's worn-out joke, you are the one of us who lives at your workplace as even in your free time, it's downright unnatural." Madeline smiled almost involuntarily.

Happy commotion and the music from the gramophone was interrupted by a loud, demanding knock that came from the front door. Restless glances were exchanged, nervous anticipation rippled through the room, until Ernestine nodded to Dorothy, and said in her distinctly calm manner, "My dears, one of our tardy friends must be at the door, no worries, I'll get some more champagne, for those who want it? " A few eager hands went up. There were fragrant cookies shimmering in a large crystal bowl, fresh strawberries had been in it a couple of hours earlier, and a few pieces of meringue, of which only crumbs remained.

Madeline nodded to Di Blythe and Alice Parker, in unison girls went straight to the piano, and talked in low voices for a moment, and the notes rustled. Then the music started, flowing softly. Isabelle noted, in her perceptive style, "Quite a French repertoire today, appropriate in these circumstances, first in the afternoon was that Debussy, then it was Ravel, and now Gounod's Sappho."

After a while, Dorothy and Ernestine returned, Ernestine was going about in salong, filling glasses, and telling humorous anecdotes, as Dorothy said in her warm charming style, "There was only one of my relatives at the door, so it's all right." As Gound's last notes faded, Di crept up to Dorothy, shaking her hands, as she inquired in a sincere tone, "Dorothy, did Dorian happen to be at the door, and did he have Nan by his side?"

Dorothy glanced placidly at the starry-eyed, red-cheeked girl standing next to her, and she answered slowly, in a kind but firm tone. "You're right. For a moment, I thought about letting them in here, but then I had second thoughts. While my nephew is charming, he doesn't necessarily know everything, and I know you trust Nan with your life, but I have to think about the bigger picture, because privacy and open-mindedness, and like-minded company, is the most important virtue of these evenings, I have not once relaxed from that rule. "

Di, nodded thoughtfully, and said, "I understand very well." And then, with a small blush rising to her cheeks, she whispered a question in Dorothy's ear. And soon a soft, maturely, amused laugh resounded in the salon, as Dorothy embraced Di lightly, and said cheerfully "Browse, freely, if something is not on display, there are reasons for that."

With quiet steps, Madeline walked to the corner where Alice and Di were sitting. Madeleine, poured Alice some fresh lemonade, and inquired "It looks like you're being molded a lot, at least from what I happened to see of your training, but that is not my particular area of expertise." Di, resting her chin on Alice's shoulder, noticed Alice flinch a little before answering, " The lessons are varied." Madeline glanced calmly at Alice's face and after a moment of silence said, "Well, as long as you're happy, that's the most important thing." Alice nodded, with a small, but luminous smile.

On the other side of the room, Isabelle, was reclining in her carefree, elegant style, on the divan, and Ernestine and Dorothy were sitting beside her. Di, glanced at the little clock, and wiping her skirts, she got up, and embraced Madeleine, saying, "It's getting late, I think Alice and I must be going back in the direction of Hollow." And with gentle smiles and little nods, hand in hand, Alice and Di walked across the salong to the divan. Dorothy said in her lively way, "Thank you for coming, have a safe journey home!"

Madeline, moved to the window, and watched until the shadowy figures of Alice and Di had disappeared around the corner. And then she felt a soft, slight touch on her back, and smiling, Madeline turned around, and grabbed the champagne glass Isabelle held out, as Isabelle said, "Well?" Laughing softly, Madeline emptied the glass, in two quick gulps, and nodded toward the dance floor, there was soft strains of waltz, as Helene was playing piano, few couples were dancing, including Dorothy and Ernestine. A look of surprised delight flashed in Isabelle's eyes, as they joined their friends.


Primrose Hollow was dark and the living room smelled of rice pudding, a comforting scent as Di and Alice carefully crept inside and lit the storm lantern, in its flickering light, Di saw that Nan had written both her diary and a letter, for the rose-red, gilt-paged diary, that she had received as a Christmas present had been left on Nan's favorite geenish armchair, which also had a framed photograph of Jerry, its frames were glimmering in faint light. In most careful manner, Alice and Di walked up the staircase, wary of the creaking stairs, as they slipped into Alice's room and locked the door tightly.

Di turned to Alice with a smile, as Alice, glanced at Di, with a saucy twinkle in her eyes. And soon the only sound in that room, filled with flickering candlelight and shadows, was the slow rustling of clothes, they ended up carelessly piled on the floor, loose buttons opened, laces untied, embroidered cover of the corsets, were sowly put aside, there were light click as the planchets opened, and two pairs of hands rubbing in langorous way, those light red marks that always remained on the waist, despite the soft thin linen shifts, amid soft loving murmurs, and lingering, small kisses. With an impish glance, Alice held out, folded length of green silk, as Di, whispered a suggestion in Alice's ear. A mischievous smile lit up her violet eyes. Alice beckoned Di to sit on the edge of dressing table, as she, carefully covered Di's eyes, with a silk strip.

There was scent of powder, and the delicate notes, of Alice´s perfume hung in the air. Di, strongly felt the fierce throbbing of her pulse, and then, quite without warning, she felt the touch of light, caressing fingertips, all over, that shifted, and varied, and continued until, throbbing bliss dawned; tremors seemed to be everywhere, in ever-rising waves. Afterwards, Alice pressed a soft, slightly, possessive, salty kiss to Di´s lips, and opened, that a strip of silk. Di blinked, and glanced at Alice, whose cheeks glowed with a peony tinted shade of red, her hair was very messy, for Di had run her fingers through it, more than once. With a very relaxed limbs, Di carefully got up from the dressing table, and slipped into the bed, where lace-trimmed pillowcases, had light lavender-scent, they had been embroidered with iris-flowers. Alice leaned into her side, as she gave Di a challenging look. Di laughed low, mirthfully and triumphantly, and she turned to Alice, eager to return those moments of bliss, and surrender.

Silently, Di pressed soft, teasing kisses to Alice's collarbones, and then she slowly moved lower, and lower. Neither of them noticed how the hours passed, as they could only focus on the silkiness of each other's skin, as they slowly melted into each other, as they leaned against each other in breathless, pulse throbbing, hands clasped together, silppery, wet. The springs of the old bed creaked softly, and at one point, Alice or was it perhaps Di, neither of them remembered afterwards, had to to bite the pillow, several times, so they wouldn't wake Nan, who was sleeping across the hall.

Golden morning light flooded through the curtains as Di awoke, and brushed Alice's heavy hair from her face as the soft, slightly curled strands tickled her nose. Then Alice's slightly hoarse voice said, "I don't know about you, but now I need some tea, and maybe a little jam, to go along with it." Di burst out laughing, in a low voice, as she softly embraced Alice-shaped pile next to her, all tangle of bare limbs, and cool touch of pale blue silk-shift, against her skin, and unruly hanks of golden hair.


A couple of hours later, at the breakfast table in Primrose Hollow, amid malty scent of tea, marmalade, and fresh carrot-buns, Nan glanced at Di and said, "Did you have a nice evening last night? You've got a red spot, on your neck, it looks just like an ivy rash, out of season." A light silence fell upon the breakfast-table, after Nan's words, Alice, stirring her tea with slightly trembling hands, said briskly, "I think I accidentally scratched Di's neck yesterday at Dorothy Gardiner's, for there was a dance at the end of the evening, and my toes are a little bruised from turning in a different direction all the time, luckily there were no reels, because as you may remember Nan, they make me dizzy."

Nan glanced at Alice, and said, "Oh, that's so true, without Jerry, my own pace gets messed up too. It's somehow easier when a man leads, especially in waltzes, and we just follow. I went with Dorian, in front of Dorothy's door, yesterday, but we not even allowed in, very peculiar behaviour, from a sewing club, but perhaps if I had been alone I might have got in, as you both know that Laidies Aid gatherings have always been ladies' premises. I tried to stop Dorian, but he was like a landslide when he got the idea, from a little visit, to his aunt's, none of our brothers, dearest Di, not even Jem, is as stubborn. I ended up in Perennial's office, and I went through Walter's literary archives, which Dorian kindly brought out for me, and I can say that the moment was very moving. Do you know Di that Dorian even made me tea, and it wasn't Susan's grade yet, but very few teas are."

Nan looked into Di's eyes, they looked extraordinarily starry, and brilliant in the dimness of the drawing-room, and then Di said, "Nan, you are braver than I, for I have only glanced at a few of Walter's literary legacy, for I fear that if I read more I shall miss him all the more, of course, what am I doing anyway, as are you too." Nan softly embraced Di, and noticed that in such close contact, her hair smelled a little, like lavender, and not at all like the usual lily of the valley scent, that Di sometimes brushed behind her ears, on special occasions. At this juncture Alice crept away from the table with soft steps, and left the twins alone. Soon the clinking of dishes began to be heard from the kitchen as Alice washed the breakfast dishes, as she hummed soft glimmering strands of Elgar´s Love Alone May Stay.

That Sunday was spent in peaceful activities after church. There had been more memorial plaques again, Nan noticed with a shudder, and Alice's hair smelled faintly of incense and beeswax again, and she was humming some hymn in a low voice, unknown to the Glen girls. Nan was preparing the package for Jerry, and finishing letter to Ingelside. Di looked up from her notebook and said, "Nan, when was the last time we got a letter from Faith, do you remember? She promised to write relatively often when she had last letter was typical of her crossing the Atlantic, luckily there were no submarines. Do you remember when visiting Ingelside Cousin Sophia swore that Reverend Meredith's eldest daughter would surely die, traveling across the Atlantic, and Susan was very sarcastic to her cousin, luckily neither the Reverend nor Rosemary, let alone Una, were visiting us at the time, as that would have been unpleasant. Faith wrote that she was already looking forward to the training although the local canteen food was not up to Rosemary's level. We wondered if she had already seen the sights of London. Faith's handwriting, tired and a little messy, seemed to glow with the same conviction she already had here, only more deeply. And already a few VAD- terms had slipped into her letter. As she is in London, she's closer to Jem, that thought brings close comfort, I may think."

Nan, fingered the red wax stick a little nervously, and said gravely, in a slightly trembling voice, "You know, dearest Di, when I saw those new memorial plaques and the slightly withered and fresh flower arrangements on the same wall, I got a chilling fear in my soul again. Jerry must stay safe, because I can't stand it, if he could be wounded again, for that first time was almost beyond my endurance. The newspapers are roaring about the arrival of the first US troops in Paris, and that Greece is now on the side of the Allies, but I know I shall not rest well until I get from a word, or even a small note, from him." Di nodded, and said thoughtfully, "We both know you're definitely on Jerry's mind, and he'll write when he can. That letter you've been waiting for may arrive in a couple of days." Nan, let out a small hopeless sigh that cut Di's heart.


It was Monday-afternoon, and knitting needles clattered and the satin rustled, and the tea glasses slowly reached their graceful saucers, as around Christine Stuart Dawson, in a semi-circular circle of equals, Adeleine Gardiner's Ladies Aid assembled, and the agenda had fortunately reached the meta-subheading point, and it was time to discuss the floral decorations next to the latest commemorative plaques, and should perhaps the names of the deceased heroes be gilded, so that they would be more clearly visible from the dark stone slab. And then at last, a solemn body of the most distinguished ladies of Kingsport filed slowly, dignified in a rustling line, out of the little tea-room cabinet that Adeline had reserved for this afternoon, as Dorian and Dorothy had shut themselves up in the bluish parlor at Hall where the Laidies Aid usually met.

Christine glanced at Adeline, who was leaning tiredly on the small table, eyes downcast, and Christine ordered some tea. And sighing a little tiredly, Adeline rubbed her temples and said quietly, "This heat always gives me a headache, too much low pressure in the air. Christine, thank you for coming, your presence helped, even though you had to answer several questions, about the conditions in Manitoba, and the reasons why you are here and not there. I think you handled the situation gracefully."

Christine covered her smile with her teacup and said, "Well, it's only natural that my presence caused a bit of a stir, after all, I'm still a household name around here. Manitoba Provincial Laidies Aid has always done a first class job, and still does."

Peaceful moments passed filled with light gossip, and soon the silver teapot was empty, and Adeline, embraced Christine, saying, "Well, are you going to the clothes shops again, or where are you going?" Christine shook her head, and said thoughtfully, "Thought I'd take a little walk on my old Redmond trails, as the weather is so beautiful today."

A bright flickering sun shone from a cloudless sky as Christine walked toward Redmond's red brick campus, quiet for the summer, with only a few co-eds strolling along, well-maintained footpaths. Christine sat on the wrought-iron bench beside the great fragrant lilac bush, and looked at the well-manicured fields of grass, and in the distance the flickering glass of Glazebo, half covered with vines, it could hardly be seen. Softly she hummed light melody of Greensleeves, and remembered how once years ago, in this very same place, handsome, charmingly impish person, named Gilbert Blythe, who had been introduced by Christine's considerate brother Ronald, as a suitable companion, had suddenly turned to Christine, and, looking her straight in the eyes, with a polite but somewhat distant expression, he had swept a few dark brown, slightly, unruly cherubic curls from his forehead with an impatient gesture and said, in his meltingly resonant baritone, "You've been telling me a great deal about music these past few weeks. I've been studying in the lovely undisturbed peace of the Redmond Music Society´s Library while you've been rehearsing, so it only seems fair that I give you something in return, as we Blythes always settle our accounts."

And Gilbert had taken Christine's wrist, he had lightly, run his two slightly rough fingers, which felt so different from the hands of the youths of Christine's own class, over her pulse points, extremely gently. A few moments had passed, which had seemed like an eternity, and then Gilbert had looked up, with his intent hazel eyes, and said in a mischievous tone, the like of which Christine had not heard from him before in their short acquaintance, " It seems that your pulse is elevated, and your eyes are dilated. Pay attention to possible physical sensations, perhaps increased breathing, or reddening of the cheeks, among other more subtle sings. The physical properties of the body never lie." Then Gilbert had released his grip, on Christine's wrist, and he had said, in light way, " I'm sure you can use this information on various occasions. Unfortunately, I can't come to dinner, although the invitation was most polite. I happen to have a date with my anatomy textbook as Cooper Prize is my firm goal, time seems to be running very short."

Christine had nodded in her airy way, and said, seriously but with a slight saucyness in her tone, to which Gilbert had previously seemed to respond well. "Don't read, all night, you've been a bit pale lately. That prize you're chasing is like an endurance race, and that's why so few win it, many burn themselves out. Try to make sure it doesn't happen to you."

And it had not happened, Gilbert Blythe had won the prize he was aiming for and also the other one, the hand of clever and graceful Anne Shirley, albeit a little later. Christine, folded a sprig of fragrant lilac into her hair, and with slow steps she bade farewell to her ghost of her past cavalier, of sort. Then as she walked the shadowy, sandy corridors she hummed Bizet's delicious, lush, inviting notes, as she made her way to the library of the Redmond Musical Society, for there were a few notes to be perused more specifically, in privacy.


An airplane circled in the Glen's sky, like some strange large silvery man-made bird, Susan remarked to Rilla and Gertrude Oliver sitting in the kitchen, they were knitting. "I don't get the same rush of excitement when I see an airplane anymore as I did in the spring when my beloved little brown boy were in training, but it's still really wonderful, if somehow strange to think that some young solider of our side steering that large hulk of contraption." Rilla looked up from her sock, and said softly, "I find myself getting goosebumps all over whenever I notice that the mail or newspapers have arrived."

Gertrude Oliver glanced at Rilla with a small smile on her lips. Rilla´s features glowed with a soft pink color that covered the few freckles on her high cheekbones, not to mention those silky long eyelashes that gave her eyes a certain indefinable power.

Rilla sighed inwardly, finding that when she thought of Ken, and their last meeting, half an age ago, before when Susan had arrived at the scene with humiliating old tales, of past misdeeds, she had dropped two loops of her kinitting. Susan could be heard explaining something to Gertrude about preserving summer berries, strawberries, blueberries, and gooseberries in the current conditions, when coupons only gave a certain amount of sugar, but Rilla was looking out the window, into the greenish twilight, from which birdsong echoed, and was building hazy dreams and thinking about what to write in her diary.

Anne Blythe looked thoughtfully at the golden-green evening sky as she sat on the verandah, the plane had just disappeared from sight behind the birch trees, and the intoxicating evening serenade of nightingales and blackbirds echoed as she took Nan's letter from her pocket and opened it.

Dear Mumsy!

It's been pretty busy here almost non-stop, and that's why my correspondence is a little behind. I have often lately thought of the peace of Rainbow Valley, and the tinkling of the little bells in the wind, and being here I realize how necessary it was that I was able to spend time at home in Ingelside, though we did not talk perhaps as much as I would have liked, fortunately, there are letters. Your time is divided among so many that I didn't want to be selfish and take your time.

It's still a heatwave here, and none of us are sleeping very well, especially with the newspapers writing about a potential summer offensive starting in July, somewhere on the Western Front and possibly along Eastern Front, too. Only day before yesterday Alice was looking at very old and tattered looking book, with half-torn covers, there were lots of maps from Galicia-Ruthenia region, it was somekind of old Atlas, and she was trembling with worry, or so I interpret her silence and Di is on the same mind with me.

Take care, if you can, that Spider stays in the shade on sunny, hot days, because you remember what a commotion it once was when Rilla noticed that she had more freckles. I found, though, that her vanity has thankfully lessened, and she has become helpful, and sensibly feminine, though she blushes lightly when Di or I speak of the Fords. I'm sure she'll be a help to you when I'm tied up with Di here, with our duties.

On other news, I have almost finished Jerry's package, I know that the Manse people also regularly send supplies to both boys, as you do to my brothers, but I feel calmer when I do that, I'm sure you understand, because maybe this is a little superstitious, or Gertrude Oliver´s style, but using time and love for this activity, I also weave dreams and wishes, as well as my love, into every carefully chosen and cherished delicacy or written sentence, as I drafts letters to him.

I made rice pudding today, and the smell of it reminds me of home, and the moment when Susan taught us, Di and I to make it in my childhood, Rilla was maybe about two at the time, and she was crawling, on the carpet, as Jims did few years ago, how fast time flies, and at the same time how slowly. I was at the Perennial's office earlier to-day, and got to see Walter's literary legacy stored there, from which I enclose one piece to you, herewith, it may bring comfort to you, as it did to me, as it seems that he did have premotions, of sort.

With all my love to everyone at Ingelside, and especially to you

Nan

Anne Blythe, folded the letter thoughtfully in the silence, and then she produced from between pages a thin piece of paper on which the following lines, were written in Walter's messy cursive.

Sometimes I hear the bright sound of the fairy bells

of golden paradise of my childhood,

when the air were crisp

Innocence is like apple blossom petals,

hazy white, light pink tint.

Those eyes are full of nameless yearning,

their gaze is calm,

a little wistful,

one glance,

pours courage into

quivering remains of my soul

I hear the high shimmering note of a violin

I turn,

I seek,

but I do not find

Apple blossoms,

cherry blossoms tremble on the ground,

in the eddies of a strong wind.

It's like wading, on the ruins of innocence,

petals clinging to my boots.

Grassy hill below me is slippery,

from blood, of my enemies, inner or outer,

I do not know.

From somewhere there is a powerfully compelling call,

Piper, in his colorful plaid cloak,

he stretches out his hand,

I follow, through winding roads,

towards unfathomable slaughter

I see on the other side of the greenish gray sea

our flag flutters in the gusty wind,

it must be defended!

Anne, raised her tearful eyes from Walter's poem, and gazed upon that landscape which her son had so loved, and in defense of which he had given his life. Anne pressed her lips against the rough, pale paper, but there was no smell of gunpowder or blood anywhere, and his handwriting was still looping cursive, not the exhausted mess it later became.

Anne slipped Nan's letter and Walter's poem between her burgundy gilt-edged, Tennyson, and put the book on the porch table, sheltered from the evening dew. Anne heard Gilbert's steps, right near her, and she heard that voice so dear ask, "Anne-girl, tears, on such a beautiful summer evening, tell me what is it?" Anne gracefully wrapped her arms around Gilbert's neck and breathed in his safe familiar scent with a hint of carbolic soap. Gilbert smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, right where that one unruly curl resided.