Professor Milne, walked the corridors of Redmond's musicology department, through thick doors, music echoed in large rooms, orchestral arrangements of well-known Christmas carols, there were gleaming stratospheric high notes, touch of elaborate and pure, Mozart, and Puccini glimmering orientalist strains, twined with lovely brightness of Charpentier´s modern ballad, Depuis le jour.

And then, a gruff voice said matter-of-factly, "Milne, are you here to poach my singers at your upcoming event, that charity benefit?" Milne looked up, and saw a door open, and standing in the doorway was Dr. Beldevere, who always had a fierce rivalry with everyone.

Milne, smiled faintly, and said "Not really, well, unless you offer to suggest some?" Beldevere, smiled wryly and said "It is so difficult to find and cultivate talent, but I admit that my eyes have rarely failed me."

Milne, nodded and half in thought as he said, "You might be surprised, because even if I say so myself, the committee has outdone itself."

Beldevere, tapped his pipe in his pocket and said, "Well, perhaps. Milne, aren't you about to start your lecture?" Milne, glanced at his silver pocket-watch, and startled, shouldered his bag, and hurried to his class, through the snowy slush, which was extremely treacherous dotted Quads of Redmond.


There was a concentrated silence in the large classroom, as Milne raised his voice and said, "Well, don't be totally sleepy, even if it is soon weekend. Does anyone have an opinion on Alexander Pope's production?"

Nan Blythe raised her hand, and said distinctly, "I have always esteemed him as a satirist, and as a translator, and especially his philosophical poem, 'An Essay on Man,' and the construction of thought, of the Universe, which Pope presents in it, is an interesting picture of the times."

Milne's eyes twinkled with amusement as he said, "Miss Blythe, excellently argued, as usual, but I confess I'm a little surprised none of you have mentioned it yet "The Rape of Locke" because it is usually mentioned first."

Sue Ridley stood up and shook her dark curly head as she said audibly, "And usually with reason, for wasn't fair Belinda right to wager her war?"

Nan glanced at Di sitting next to her, but her twin didn't seem to pay any attention to Sue Ridley's words, as she was writing something in her notebook, as the debate about Pope's poetry raged on. As a final observation, Dorian exclaimed, "I think the elemental categorization of the sylphs who guard and advise Belinda developed by Pope is ironically insightful and very fluid."

Di, laughed and said with murmur to Nan "Of course Dorian likes the rosicrucian doctrine of spirits, because it's very varied. I remember Walter liked that too, because it doesn't only have sylphs, but also other fantastic creatures like salamanders, gnomes, nymphs too."


In the afternoon, Nan made her way to the library of the Redmond Music Society, Jerry's latest letter rattling in her pocket, the pages already softened by much reading, Jerry had written, in his looping, jagged scrawl.

Dear Nan,

Another day is behind, here, it is soon lights-out. I'm writing this with clumsy half-frozen stained fingers, so if my penmanship is not its usual sleek standard, do not worry. All around me men are coughing and muttering. It's eerily quiet outside and a blanket of snow is slowly falling on the raped, destroyed, trampled land. Every meter we have defended this fall, we have redeemed it with blood and life.

Namely, I notice to my surprise that men come to me quite often for spiritual comfort, and I try to help them as best I can. However, I am not my father, and sometimes, as tonight I feel it sorely, I try to find comforting words, but they slip from my grasp like summer dim at Rainbow Valley. A funny thing happened a couple of days ago, a box of new Bibles arrived here, by over-seas. One of my father's letters from home hinted at something like this, but I didn't believe it, who would?

Perhaps in a corner of Redmond's library there might be a selection of suitable hymns that could raise the spirits of the crowd? In the evenings, I try to think of beautiful things, and they are always centered on you.As always, I get strength from the thought that you live glowing like a flame in Redmond, argue, and dream, and sew patriotically, but not too much, because nothing you do is ever too much.

Soon, maybe cozy Primrose Hollow will smell like Christmas, crisp, clean, snow, and warm cider you've made according to an old Avonlea recipe, that you in your childhood had cajoled from venerable Rachel Lynde.

Lately your letters have been a bit strained, please don't exhaust yourself completely, because I want you to enjoy Christmas, and say hello to my family if you happen to spend Christmas together.

You are in my thoughts, and in my heart, always.

Yours

J.

Entering the library, Nan noticed that the place was decorated for the Christmas season, as it was suitable, as she carefully walked between the shelves, Nan found herself enjoying the quiet peaceful atmosphere. After clutching the books in her lap, Nan walked forward, towards the librarian's room, for she thought that perhaps she might have some insightful recommendation that might please Jerry. But, knocking on the door, she found that it was indeed closed, which was extremely unusual, as Di swore the librarian was always there.

Light footsteps broke the silence, and a familiar voice inquired, "Can I help?" Nan looked up, and noticed that a woman with reddish brown hair that Nan had seen once before in Gardiner Hall, she was standing next to her, holding a package tied with a red ribbon. Nan, nodded and in her lively manner presented her case.

The woman's pale green eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she said, "It looks like you've already partially found what you're looking for, as I would have advised you to look in that particular department." And turning on her heel, she opened the door of the room, saying over her shoulder, "If you don't find what you're looking for in the books, come back after the New Year."


Nan walked in the plum-hued evening towards Primrose Hollow. The snow crunched under her shoes, and her breath misting in the cold air, Nan decided she would sew Jerry another pair of gloves, from the ruby red wool yarn she had seen in the Kingsport Red Cross yarn basket.

The gate of Primrose Hollow was freezing cold under her glove, and as the light shone through the windows of that little house, it resembled a frosty gingerbread house, for the garden was covered with snow, and sharp icicles hung from the eaves.

A warm, slightly sweet scent of cinnamon wafted towards Nan's face as she opened front door. The living room was full of domestic chaos. Dark coats were hanging on the coat rack, three lecture briefcases had been thrown on the floor, there were piles of books on the tables, piles of sheet music, of which Biblické písné by Dvořák was the main one. Glancing at it, Nan remembered what Faith had once told her, "The King James Version psalms are full of love, and trust, mercy, repentance, and declaring the name of our Lord, as it should be."

A cheerful blazing fire crackled in the hearth, and warming her hands, in the glow of the flames, Nan sat down in the vacant chair, and lifted into her lap a gray army sock, in which stood a pair of old ivory knitting needles.

There was a soft humming from the kitchen, the Czech's soft vowels were clear, and somewhat mischievously Nan exclaimed, "Is this smell of cinnamon a hint, perhaps?" Alice, with flecks of flour on her apron, peeked through the crack in the door, as she nodded.

Pretty soon, Nan was inspecting the pastries in the steaming oval dish, they were folded into a rose shape and seemed to be filled with dried fruit, and raisins, and when she carefully cut through one, a sweet scent of moist rum and cinnamon sugar emerged.

With a wan smile Alice said, "Nan, these are koláčes, filled pastries, they can be made either savoury or sweet filling." She was pouring tea from a yellowish teapot, and wiping her apron, a little uneasily, as she said, "Tomorrow is Milne's charity night. The committee have done a really great job, it seems Di has been heavily involved in it, as she has hardly even slept here in a last few days or so."

Nan cast a steady gaze in Alice's direction and drank her tea without answering.

At that juncture the door slammed open and red-cheeked Di rushed in, but she was by no means alone, by her side stood Dorian, and doe-eyed Sue Ridley, who looked curiously around, as Dorian bowed, and said cheerfully, "I told you, Sue, that delicious, oven-fresh pastries would be available here, and I was right!"

Nan looked in Di's direction with genuine curiosity as Sue Ridley and Dorian sat down in the vacant chairs, as Alice slipped into the kitchen for more plates and teacups, as Di said in an undertone, " Perennial's meeting. Sue is our illustrator, in case you didn't know. She's been in charge about the graphic appearance of the last two issues, and our Editor has been more or less satisfied."

Nodding softly to Alice, accepting a greenish slim teacup from the tray, Sue glanced at Di, and said mirthfully, "Perennial's premises are certainly not a cradle of modernism, every time I step in there, I'm afraid I'll be sent to buy cookies, or asked to do something I don't want to participate writers so often rule the place that it's nice that the rest of us are sometimes given opportunities, even if we have to fight."

Di, grinned and said in a quoting tone, "Stop whining, and do your job, that's why you're here, you've been chosen on purpose, and so on, right Dorian?"

Dorian stirred his tea in silence, and with a bit of a start, he looked up and said "We have certain limitations, but we can still make Perennial a quality publication that rises above the average."

Nan, threw a napkin at Dorian and said lightly, "You sound as if you were about to take part in some official cognac cabinet meeting, fold your Gardiner air for one night if you can!"

Dorian stretched, and swung his wrists lazily, his cufflinks glinting, as he said dramatically, "I can certainly try, but no promises!"

Slowly, the pastries dwindled, and the homely conversation hummed in the room.

Then Sue Ridley, stood up shook her skirts and said in a questioning tone, "If I understood correctly you might have a room available in the spring, if that's true I'd like to see this house, a little more, if it's not too much trouble."

Nan, threw an excited, sparkling look in Di's direction, but her twin's face was coolly serious, and inscrutable. And then Alice, stood up, and said briefly, "Come, I will do the honors."

And soon two steps echoed on the worn staircase.

A tight, somewhat uncomfortable silence fell on the living room and to break it Dorian said impulsively, "I had no idea you were planning on taking a new resident here. Miss Ridley is captivating, she's a perfect addition to the floral splendor of Primrose Hollow, for I think you resemble different kinds of flowers, all of you, even Faith, even if she is doing good work in misty green England."

Di huffed tiredly, "Dorian, don't be so startlingly Victorian, that was sentimentality of the worst kind, as if anyone really wants to be compared to flowers." Nan, breathed, in a reproachful tone, "Di, don't be rude. I've always happened to like flower similes."

Di, threw a sharp glimmering grey-green glance at her twin and turned her back, and crept to the piano and began to play, something bright and pearly, and Dorian recognized Ravel's Jeux d'eau.

The music shimmered, flowed and meandered, like a powerful stream, like waves in the wind, and curiously Dorian openly observed Di, and noticed how the surprising tension that had suddenly subsided, as a playful, light atmosphere, rose into the living room, as Di rendered Ravel's distinctive style, which is characterized by its clarity, precision, and sensitivity to color and texture, with not ease, but unexpected elegance.

As Di had finished playing, Nan said in passing, "I happened to be at the Redmond Music Society library earlier today, and the usual librarian wasn't there, just a substitute."

With unsettled fingers Dorian swept the crumbs from his plate, as an interested and attentive look came into Di's eyes as she said, "Well, everyone has the right to take a vacation sometimes, and I think Madeleine especially has earned hers, trice over!"


Dorian remembered how a couple of weeks ago he had met Claire in the library of Gardiner Hall. She had looked in the direction of the greenhouse, and seeing Dorian sitting in her usual place, on the window seat, had whispered softly, "Dreams, even the most distant ones can sometimes come true. Do you think so?" Dorian had looked seriously at Claire, and said, just as quietly, "If both parties are alive, then I suppose anything is possible."

A charming smile had appeared on Claire's face and she had said, "Perhaps, so, soon I will see."

And about a week later, Claire had come into Dorian's room late at night, and for a long time she had just looked at Valentine's painting on the wall, and then that dark, heavy gaze had shifted to Dorian, and a slight panic had fluttered like a bird in Dorian's soul, for he was wearing pink silk, and on his neck had been Valentine's pearls, their weight was comforting, as Claire had taken a step forward, and with difficulty Dorian had concealed his flinch, but Claire had only smiled and lightly, like a breeze, embraced Dorian and whispered, with her light accent softening the words, further, " Dearheart, they suit you, so. She would be most glad, I think."

Taking a deep breath, Dorian had smelled Claire's exotic soft perfume that reminded him of the dark herbal nights of the Mediterranean.

And about a day later, Claire had left Gardiner Hall, with her trunks in tow, in blue-black dawn. She had left Dorian her bottle of perfume, with a small note.

Dearheart,

Thank you, for our many sensitive conversations. As a token, here's a little gift, use it well. I know you will find your own path, and when you do walk it proudly.

C.

Dorian shook himself out of his thoughts, as he tried to focus on the conversation between the Blythe twins, but to no avail, as his thoughts were still focused on his family's affairs.


Upstairs, Sue Ridley was leaning nonchalantly against the door of the room that had been Faith Meredith's, as she said, in her winsome way, "I think I could enjoy myself here quite well, for the house is quite charming, and so is the company."

Alice, glanced warily at the darkhaired girl, who was dressed in seasonal green, as she hummed Dvorak, and twirled her rosary between her fingers.

Suddenly Sue's limpid gaze sharpened, as she said, " That music sounds pagan, but beautiful. It's clear that here you have your own inner alliances, but if we're going to live under the same roof, cordial relations are important. I say this because I know Nan and Di, but I haven't formed an idea of you yet, for we haven't been in the same courses, here, and though we sometimes see each other, the Red Cross at meetings, it's a little different there."

Alice was leaning against the banister railing, as she said, "No worries, on that account. Would you like some more tea before you go?"

The atmosphere in the living room was tingly, as Alice and Sue arrived. Di's eyes were shining like stars, and Dorian looked thoughtfully distant, in his best faux byronic mood, and Nan had clearly finished writing a letter, because her index finger was all black, with ink.

Sitting down on the floor, Sue leaned her dark head against Dorian's leg, gently, and that gesture, light, roused the youth like cold water, as he was looking down in dismay. Soon everyone in the drawing room were laughing uncontrollably, as Sue pointedly pointed out, "Dorian, you must be an only child." And again the teapot went around the ring, and there were gentle jokes and seasonal carols sung, in impomptu way.

Afterwards, as Dorian and Sue Ridley had gone, Di was carrying the dishes into the kitchen, and Alice was washing them Nan stopped in the doorway as she declared," Strange thing. Sue reminded me so much of Catherine Ernshaw-Linton, that has been nagging me for weeks. She truly has similar charm, and a wildness that is tempered with sudden sweetness."

Alice, glancing over the soapy teacups in Di's direction, cautiously, as Di said good-naturedly, "Nanlet, Nanlet, don't count the eggs until they hatch, she might not come here." Alice clutched the damp towel tightly in her hands, and answered quietly, "She will, we just agreed on that." And with a flurry of striped skirts Alice bolted upstairs.

The Ingelside twins looked at each other in silent astonishment, and then Nan said, "It is settled then, come January."


Expectant slightly strained talk and a slight sense of urgency pervaded the hall on the Redmond campus, where reddish mahogany gleamed and social laughter hummed. Large collection containers were placed in well-defined places, and Redmond's Broad Members shook hands with Bluenoses in the hall with seemingly endless stream. Serious posters proclaimed "Let's help the victims of the Halifax explosion!"

The Dean of Redmond took the lighted podium, the gaslights flickering, and he said in his dignified manner, "Dear citizens of Kingsport, today we are not here for ourselves, or for our sons who are defending our country on the Western Front, but for the victims of the Halifax explosion. You all know what happened on December 6, 1917, reports have flooded abroad, Halifax's local infrastructure was partially destroyed, and we are by no means the only ones who have done this kind of fundraising, but we may be one of the first. Tonight's program is full of local talent, some of them Redmond co-eds, and some not, but please enjoy the evening, and be generous."

Adeline Gardiner, clutching her brother's arm tightly, whispered, "Where were you thinking of sneaking off to?" Royal, nodded in passing to his business acquaintances, the few who were still left, and said lowly, "I thought I'd look for Christine, as I figure she should be around here somewhere."

Dorian's dark curls stood out from the crowd, and an interested twinkle lit up in Adeline's eyes as she noticed that beside Dorian, a neutral look in her eyes, stood a dark-haired girl dressed in a pomegranate red dress, and they slowly walked closer. Dorian seemed to be talking relatively enthusiastically with this girl, but then Adeline's enthusiasm turned to disappointment as she heard what they were talking about, "What about Pope's sixth canto, and his translation, from Homer, and his criticism. How can you say Pope wasn't remarkable?"

Dorian looked up, and Adeline could clearly see that Dorian did it on purpose, for a mischievous twinkle shone in his green eyes, and he bowed slightly exaggeratedly to his aunt as the crowd swallowed them up. Adeline remarked in a low voice, fiercely stingingly, "Royal, your son is completely impossible, at this rate he will never get married."

Royal, held out a spinning tray of what appeared to be small chocolate confections, and Adeline took one, and tasted it. Slightly floury chocolate flavor, and then the chocolate shell broke and the cherry liqueur flavor was strong. Adeline struggled to hide her grimace, and Royal said lightly, "Oh, I forgot you don't like cherry chocolate. Collings, a former business associate is in charge of serving today, through a few middlemen, and his taste has always been a little, lacking.

A rotund, over-eager-looking man who resembled a drowned rat raised his wine glass in Royal's direction with a satisfied look. Adeline, graciously nodded in Collings' direction, and said sweetly, "Any port in the storm, isn't it, so my dear brother." And gracefully Adeline pulled Royal with her to Collings.


The performances flowed, one by one, and were met with thunderous applause. In the shimmering circle of light on the stage, there seemed to be no time, as Diana Blythe, dressed in a dove gray dress, played Ravel with fierce passion, the music pulsating, like a living stream.

There was a feverish hum and bustle in the back rooms. Alice was leaning on the corner of the table as she looked contentedly in the oval stained mirror. The shadow flickered, and suddenly a familiar controlled voice said teasingly, "That green silk is extremely seasonal, and suitable, for this occasion, although a little light. I can see how you are shivering, or is it nerves, if so I can perhaps help. Remember, roll the tension open, like a silk ribbon, you've succeeded in that before, but in slightly different circumstances.."

Nan was walking hurriedly along the winding corridors, reciting the high points of her upcoming recital in her mind, when she suddenly noticed that the door of a small room was ajar and dim light flooded the corridor, and low intimate murmurs could be heard from the room.

Nan tapped the door frame with her knuckles.

In few moments, a little out of breath, Alice stood in the doorway, she seemed frazzled, as she, glanced questioningly at Nan, who said, a little pointedly, with a flash of hazel eyes, " Di has finished her part. Soon it will be your turn, if you haven't forgotten it."

Dorian Gardiner watched with satisfaction as Alice, dressed in dazzling open-back, deep-grooved, green silk, with reddened cheeks, stood motionless on the stage, and then she began her performance. Händel's "With Darkness Deep" caramel resonant and enchantingly lingering.

Winifred Roberts stood in the wings, and looked on the worn lighted stage, where Nan Blythe recited Tennyson, with captivating flair, and feeling. And then she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and Winnie half turned, and gave a light nod.

The stage was dark, and then slowly the light came up, and Royal watched in surprise as Christine sat gracefully and elegantly restrained in blue, with a cello in her lap, and the unbroken silence broke, to applause, as a red-haired woman dressed in black stepped out from the other side of the stage, who performed with cello accompaniment, a cutting, sarcastic, poignant song, which was almost a monologue, dealt with the breakup of a marriage, with theatrical understatedness. During the performance, the feeling in the hall was almost like a tidal wave, and after it broke, Royal glanced at Adeline, who was wringing a handkerchief in her hands..


On the street corners of Kingsport there were tattered election posters, with the faces of Laurier and Borden appearing as black smudges, for all of Kingsport was buzzing, as was all of Canada, because in a couple of days the election would be held. In one corner of the upper floor of a corner house, frosted windows were visible where the flowery thick curtains were drawn in front.

Candles were burning in Madeleine's modest apartment, they had been stuffed into crooked silver candlesticks, and long ago emptied bottles of chardonnay that Isabelle had once brought here. The furniture was in the shade, and in one corner there was a stack of travel trunks.

And sleepily, Claire inquired, running her hand over Madeleine's collarbone, "Well, you can spend the holidays like this, even though I'm still curious about Musoka."

Madeleine, pressed her fingers to the nape of Claire's neck, tickling lightly, as she replied, "We have time, don't we. Besides, in your letters you dreamed of just this, I seem to remember."

Claire, did not answer verbally, as the scent of rose water merged with a slightly more exotic perfume, as Madeleine, looked up at the darkened ceiling beams, and her pulse galloped quietly, and then, between two breaths, sleep came.