(no subject)
When at last Archibald wakes up, the early sunlight stretches in golden beams across the Milliways grounds. He’s lying under an apple tree, in front of the greenhouse door. Archibald supposes he’s been sleeping there all night, but he’s in no pain, and his shoulders are only a bit stiff. He pushes himself up to a sitting position and stretches.
Archibald hasn’t forgotten the things Gabriel Tam said to him last night. He hasn’t forgotten his dream either, although he doesn’t understand it. “In the garden!” said Lilias, but the garden door is locked, and the key buried deep. Archibald ponders what Lilias can have meant. He isn’t worried or afraid; a strange calm has fallen over him, like the stillness he felt in the valley in Austria.
It’s time to go home, and Archibald Craven doesn’t fear the prospect.
Archibald goes to his rooms to collect his things. When he stops at the Bar to pay his tab, a letter materializes on the mahogany surface. He unfolds it, hands tightening on the cheap paper as he reads.
Please, sir, I would come home if I was you. I think you would be glad to come and--if you will excuse me, sir--I think your lady would ask you to come if she was here.
Archibald wonders whether something is the matter with Mary. Does she need more guidance, someone else to look after her? Is she ill, perhaps? Or, worse, has something happened to Colin? Colin could be dying; he has been on the point of it many times.
Ordinarily, Archibald would fall into dark thoughts again now. Somehow, today, with sunlight still streaming through the windows from the lakeside, he cannot believe that anything is really wrong. He lifts his knapsack, smiling for no reason at all. As Archibald walks back to Italy through the front door, his mind is full of Lily’s voice: Archie! In the garden!
Archibald hasn’t forgotten the things Gabriel Tam said to him last night. He hasn’t forgotten his dream either, although he doesn’t understand it. “In the garden!” said Lilias, but the garden door is locked, and the key buried deep. Archibald ponders what Lilias can have meant. He isn’t worried or afraid; a strange calm has fallen over him, like the stillness he felt in the valley in Austria.
It’s time to go home, and Archibald Craven doesn’t fear the prospect.
Archibald goes to his rooms to collect his things. When he stops at the Bar to pay his tab, a letter materializes on the mahogany surface. He unfolds it, hands tightening on the cheap paper as he reads.
Please, sir, I would come home if I was you. I think you would be glad to come and--if you will excuse me, sir--I think your lady would ask you to come if she was here.
Archibald wonders whether something is the matter with Mary. Does she need more guidance, someone else to look after her? Is she ill, perhaps? Or, worse, has something happened to Colin? Colin could be dying; he has been on the point of it many times.
Ordinarily, Archibald would fall into dark thoughts again now. Somehow, today, with sunlight still streaming through the windows from the lakeside, he cannot believe that anything is really wrong. He lifts his knapsack, smiling for no reason at all. As Archibald walks back to Italy through the front door, his mind is full of Lily’s voice: Archie! In the garden!