The mood of the house tried to be gentle and hilarious, as Ingelsidean Christmas time had always been, in the days that had now slowly melted into mists of yore. Twined holly and ivy, and fresh scents of mulled cider and tea, but it was forced hilarity, full of small almost invisible fractures.

Rilla was somehow even taller now than she had been in August-time, and little Jims had small dimples, on his cheeks. He was full of healthy ruddy color, as he laughed loudly as Nan tickled him, lightly with her braid, and Susan's food was delicious, as always, but Jem's absence was from the table at mealtimes, or of the house itself was like an open wound, that had salt sprinkled on it. Burning. Walter found out that Mothers gaze was searching as it feasted upon his features, as Anne said" Darling, thank you for your letters, they delighted us, so much."

So after dinner he wandered to Rainbow Valley as the glittering snow drifts, sparkled everywhere. In soft voice Walter recited following verses by Shelley from Adonais, as he looked at shimmering dim, slumbering nature.

He is made one with Nature: there is heard

His voice in all the music, from moan

Of thunder, to the song of night´s sweet bird

He is presence to be felt and known

In darkness, in light, from herb and stone

The world with never-wearied love.

The light of the lantern shone in the snow, and a light, bright soprano voice called in the stillness, of Rainbow Valley, "Welcome home Walter." Walter turned, and Una stood in the shadow of half a spruce, like some spirit from Coleridge's poems.

Una just looked at him, lightly, weighingly. Suddenly Una turned and handed package to him Una´s voice floated to him"So nice that you are here again,"as her slight, form vanished in the gloom of December. The snow few moments ago, so enchanting had suddenly turned cold and sticky, and his nose was cold.

So Walter walked home, holding Una's package inside his jacket to keep its heat from escaping. Anne sat in the living room weaving socks, next to her was a small basket full of pairs of socks made of gray wool. And lightly, Anne asked, "My dear son, were you admiring the snow fairies, the glow of their wings, in the snow?" Walter smiled lightly and lifted Una's package to the living room table and with a cold hands he opened it.

A medium-sized box was revealed, and there was a skilful and fragrant creation.Anne's eyes flashed as she looked at the pastry, its rich details, then she exclaimed, "Susan." Walter wondered why Susan's presence was important, it was just a pastry, but maybe that's why, as Susan reigned over them all, in culinary matters. Soon the clatter of teathings were heard as Susan carried a tea tray into the living room, and said, "Ms. has no reason to raise her voice, I'm coming."

A slightly surprised look spread across Susan's face as well, and she wiped the gray hair off her forehead, saying, "That's the most beautiful example of that pastry I've ever seen." Susan took the knife from the tray, and with one precise blow, split pastry. The gentle, intoxicating scent glowed in the room, and Anne held out three plates, and Susan dispensed three pieces. "Cherry-jam, inside how special"Anne pointed out.

Walter smiled, and happily took another piece, it mixed wondefully well with the tea, almost as if Una had planned it going along with the usual assam-style brew. Could she have done so?

Few days later only a fire crackled in the fireplace, of Ingelside´s livingroom. Anne glanced at Walter, her child was staring at the flames of driftwood with a dreamy look in his eyes, and so she asked " About Una´s pastry darling, it is truly incredibly gorgeous, and exellent, as we all did found out, yesterday. Walter turned, and glanced his mother, in earnest way, as he said, " I asked her to bake something for me when I arrived from Redmond. That way, somehow I feel more rooted here. Sometimes it feels like there's a murky spider web in my soul."

Anne sighed, looking into the flames, and slowly replied "I know exactly how you feel, my dear son. Like something would poke, or cut, and sometimes it hurts to breathe." Softly Anne got up and poured tea into the cup, its scent perfumed the room, as she handed it out to Walter.

In the morning, the newspapers wrote in a fierce tone, about the fighting in the Champagne region, and the calm mood of Ingelside plummeted down.

Walter was often absent from Ingelside, where he moved and with whom, no one in Ingelside knew, but when he returned, his eyes had a calmer look in their crystal clear depths, and his cheeks were cherry red, from cold, and there was a haunting scent that rose from his clothes, that made Susan mutter silently and Ms. Marshall Elliott´s tea cup clatter to table.

And then Christmas Day arrived.

There was that usual hurry of a post, cards, from Avonlea, from Diana Wright, and Millie and Davy, and Dora and Ralph, and Kingsport and Ontario, and Asia, from Anne´s Patty´s place girls, Pihl, Stella, and Pris, packages, for all and few letters, arrived to Ingelside from Toronto, and Walter read Ken's Christmas letter with a warm flames of the fireplace shimmering on his cheek as he was nibbling Susans mince pie.

Lord Poet!

The whole house glows with hustle and bustle, and the kitchen smells of rich treasures. Mother´s eyes are shadowed, and Persis, is more goldenly, gayly fierce than usual, and Father types all hours, not his own writing, but news, and other things. All inky, and bleak and black.

I've been literally climbing walls since I was able to walk without aide of a cane.

Redmond is probably in the midst of an equal war fever like here in Toronto, and insults have been sprinkled on my ears, too, and feathers, someone witty person, sprinkled shimmering dust, on top of a feather, and mailed it to me.

Well, that plan failed, for Persis made a statement necklace out of that feather, as part of her own outfit, for traditional New Year's party, held at the premises rented by the Father's publisher.

If I´ll pass the medical, in a few months, or so, I will walk in kahki. I will look devastating in it, all my satiny smooth charm. And now I can almost see your impish grin, as you qoute something vibrant and vivid about peacocks.

In all honesty.

Don't let them depress or break you, old chum!

KF

Walter sighed, and looked out into the bluish hazy twilight. The short walk along the main road was like something from Andersen's fairy tales, and then the church gleamed, all its windows were lighted.

Reverend Meredith's sermon was excellent, as usual, something about the kindling of light in these harsh and exceptional times, in the heart of every human being, the private miracle of Christmas. The sermon ended with a moving appeal of unity to all, the choir sang brightly, and beautiful Christmas hymns.

And then along the hallway came Una, carrying a stack of hymnals, tidying up, after service, in her usual way, and Walter, nodded at her.

Una glanced quickly at Walter, as she was passing by the Blythe pew, as Walter exclaimed, "I have a Christmas present for you, wait!" For a small moment, Walter felt like Una froze, but then she turned, swaying, like a dancer, and was waiting, just as if at any moment she could fly away, like a breath or a dream. Walter walked over to Una, and said with a smile," Peaceful Christmas time, dear, dear Una."

Una glanced at Walter, silently.

The residents of Glen walked past them, and Una noticed that a few people were looking with interest at the pastor's daughter and the doctor's son as they stood near the door.

Suddenly Norman Douglas' noisy voice was heard, "John, John, why do you never preach about hell, or loss, those topics would be extremely topical especially right now." And Una quickly leaned over to her eternal basket and held out one package, from it as she whispered "Merry Christmas, Walter to you and to all in Ingelside. I have to go, now as gingerbread is in the oven."

Ms. Marshall Elliot appeared next to Walter, and that decent woman said "Wasn't Reverend's sermon perfect."

Dreamily, Walter, who watched the snowy spruce branches, remarked, "You're right, but the choir of the Episcopal Church is much better than our choir, and there is something extremely comforting about incense, it seems to lighten the soul."

For once, Ms. Marshall Elliot was left completely speechless, and then as Anne Blythe full of shadowed cheer came to offer seasons greeting, to her old friend Ms. Marshall Elliot spluttered "Anne-dearie, Walter's theology is beginning to be very questionable. He just claimed that incense is comforting to the soul."The incense, it's not Christian at all, it's pagan and destructive, and seductive," pointed out the steep figure of Sophia Crawford, behind them.

Anne glanced at Glen's light-bathed windows as she walked toward Ingelside and said calmly, "I understand Reverend is tentatively planning an ecumenical prayer meeting between Glen, the Presbyterians, Methodists, and the Episcopals of Lowbridge, but it's not known when it is going to happen as things are slow going as usual. Rosemary mentioned it to me."

Ms. Marshall Elliot gasped, "Well, hopefully never. Reverend Meredith is sometimes far too liberal."

Gertrude Oliver walked the streets of Lowbridge in creaking frost. She was covered with scarfs, and only her brown eyes were visible.

The Christmas break had been full of gloomy moments, and she didn't really want to go to Ingelside for the New Year´ Day but it was a great opportunity to meet Walter, and Di, as well as Nan, before dear Rilla´s siblings left for Redmond. It was radiant a bright early evening, the moment when everything is pink, almost blood-colored.

As she passed the Lowbridge Episcopal Church, Gertrude noticed a familiar figure walking out of the cemetery gate. It was Walter, the poet of Ingelside, and next to him in a dark blue jacket, Alice Parker.

The young people chatted in a quiet voice, about something and then into a dim evening the glamorous soulful strains of Auld Lang Syne suddenly brusted.

The voice of the unknown singer, was clear, and caressingly soft. Gertrude repeated her steps, and when the last tones of the song had subsided, she exclaimed " Happy 1915, Walter, Miss Parker!"

The young people turned, and surrounded by frosty snow, they looked very romantic, pair golden pale, and a velvety dark, small smile flew on Walter's face and he uttered in his soft voice, the hearing of which always aroused secret desires in Gertrude's heart, of her Robert, has he had similar voice too. "Miss Olivier, are you on your way to Ingelside, so are we. I persuaded Alice to come with me."

Gertrude noticed that Alice was glancing at Walter with a slight amusement, the glance was missing any of the romantic girl's love glow, so maybe she misjudged the quality of their relationship.

And then Ingelside rose from behind a small hill. Rilla had hung lanterns on a wide snowy porch, and they twinkled in the light. The flood of spicy heat rushed in, with a hint of brewed tea, and delicacies baked by Susan, as well as a little cherry jam. Gertrude noticed that all the girls had different incredibly beautiful hair combs, adorning their hair. Di sat in the living room, and in her hand was a semi-open brand new collection of Keats, which the girl read, half-aloud to everyone.

Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine—
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.

Walter asked with a slight laugh in his voice, "Well Golden Alice, do you think philosophy is only cold, like Keats, states?"

A golden flute-like laugh is heard from the carpet on which Alice sat. Gertrude noticed that the girl was dressed very simply, but elegantly, in pale blue, the color made her look like an ice maiden, when she replied, "Keats, was Keats, and the philosophy is unique, each era creates its own interpretation of everything. "

Then, as always the conversation shifted to war when Susan brought tea into the living room. Watching the flames, Gertrude found herself saying, in a bitter, half-defiant way to Susan, "Sometimes I find myself believing in guns more than God. I want to be confident, fighting spirit, like you have Susan, but I find that I can't. Ever before, when everything felt heavy, I was able to escape to sleep, a few blissfull hours, of utter forgetfulness, but not anymore. I lie awake and terrible visions torment me, and ye all know my dreams, and I fear them at times. I've always loved darkness because I can be myself, then, and be free, not have to, smile or talk briskly."

A log banged in the firepalce its sparks were glowing for a moment, and to this silence Walter´s voice was heard flowing, caressing as he recited with closed long lashed eyes.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath.

Gertrude listened to Keats' Sixth Canto from Ode to the Nightingale, and felt trembling in her soul. There was something in Walter at the moment, something supernatural, as if someone else were using him as an intermediary.

Then Rilla's voice flashed, gentle, and a bit worried "Walter, why are you so morbid again. There are thousands of poems you could have quoted, but you chose that, but Keats is wonderful, it must be admitted."

Di laughed, and said "dear Spider, our brother is an incurable romantic. Isn't that so Alice. " Feeling curious, Gertrude straightened her shoulders, but the blond girl still sitting on the carpet didn't answer. She just held out her cup of tea, and said "Nan if I could have more tea, thank you."Gertrude thought, amused, of the brilliant Victorian tea policy, asking for tea that there was no need to answer. Alice faced Gertrude's gaze, and a flash in girl's violet eyes had told her she did it on purpose.

Finally, Walter stretched, like Jekyll, on the rug, and said, "Alice o mine, we have to practice remember? " A light laugh echoed, as Alice and Walter got up and walked to the piano, and very soon soft and haunting music and seasonal carols glowed in the room. Susan said grimly "Ms. Dr Dear wasn't there enough in the poems already? Anne´s her eyes were flooded with pride as she looked at her beloved child at the piano. He played so skillfully and emotionally.

"Apparently before holidays, there was a charity night, and Walter raised quite a bit of money with his performance there, that's what Di told me. It's so wonderful that he doesn't look so depressed anymore."

Hearing Anne's words, Gertrude glanced at Walter, who had just stopped playing. The glow of the music still lingered on his features, elevating them, but then he sighed lightly and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, and Gertrude thought Anne that was wrong.