Gossamer Cord

One night I dreamed I had been walking along the beach when a figure had risen from the waves and beckoned. I awoke in a fright and was relieved to find that I was in my bedroom in dear, normal, old Caddington, the home of my childhood, where everything was prosaically reasonable.

In February my mother and I went to stay with Edward and Gretchen. The house was looking more lived in now. The new baby was expected in April and my mother said we should be there for the great event. Gretchen could become quite excited discussing the baby, but I knew she was still very anxious about her family.

Of course, we were invited to the Dorringtons. Mary Grace and Mrs. Dorrington were delighted to see us. It was afternoon when we called and Richard was not at home.

“He will be so pleased to hear you have arrived,” we were told. “Edward did tell him you were coming. You must come and dine. What about tomorrow night?”

My mother promptly accepted the invitation.

In my room I took out the miniature of Dorabella which I had brought with me. I set it on the table by my bed and remembered my mother’s words when she had spoken of her misgivings. I had begun to wonder, too. We must remember that Dorabella often acted and spoke on impulse. She often gave more stress to her utterances than they deserved. She was lonely, she had said. That was because she liked to have us all around; my adventures with Jowan Jermyn provided a certain interest and amusement.

I studied the miniature. Mary Grace had caught Dorabella’s personality quite uncannily. Dear Dorabella. I hoped she was going to be happy. I remembered the joy in her face when she had seen my picture. She kept it in her bedroom, she said, but when I was not there she put it away because she did not want to look at it and miss me more. Though, she said, she did take it out at times to talk to it. I would understand her feelings because we always had understood each other.

I wondered whether I should have insisted on staying. But my mother was right, of course. She was sure it would be better for Dorabella to stand on her own feet now that she was married. As for myself, I should be seeing friends and enjoying visits to London. I must not be shut away in a remote part of the country.

“There in Cornwall,” she said, “you are not aware of what is happening in the world. They seem so shut away. They are more concerned with ghosts and shadows, superstitions and such things…remote from what is really going on in the world.”

“You mean the speculation about what is going on in Germany?”

“Well, yes.”

“I think Gretchen and Edward think about that a great deal.”

“Well, they would. Poor girl. She must suffer great anxiety about her parents. It’s not good for the baby. Thank God Edward was able to bring her out, at least.”

“She is safe now.”

“She has a husband to protect her, but that won’t stop her worrying about her family. Kurt is such a nice young man. I think he came over to see them just before Christmas.”

“It was a pity they could not go there.”

“I don’t think Edward would want Gretchen to go to Germany just yet.”

“Perhaps it will all blow over.”

“These things often do.”

There was no mistaking Richard Dorrington’s pleasure in seeing us. He took my hands and held them firmly.

“I’ve been wondering when you would come,” he said.

“We have been away, of course.”

“Yes, in Cornwall. I hope your sister is well. Mary Grace told us a good deal about the place when she came home after that lovely holiday you gave her.”

“It was lovely to have her, and Dorabella was very pleased with her picture.”

“Dear Mary Grace! You have brought her out, I can tell you. We are all so grateful to you, my mother and I as much as Mary Grace.”

“She could really be a great artist.”

“She is very diffident. She says miniatures are not much in fashion now.”

“She must make them a fashion. She can, with a talent like hers, I am sure.”

“You see how good it is for us all to have you back.”

Over the dinner table at the Dorringtons it was impossible to keep the subject of Germany out of the conversation.

There were four other guests—a lawyer and his wife and a doctor and his.

As we had come through the streets to the house, we could not help but see the placards, and the newsboys were shouting: “Standard, News…Read all about it.” “Hitler meets Austrian Chancellor.” “Schuschnigg at Berchtesgaden.”

“What does it mean?” asked my mother as our taxi took us to the Dorringtons.

Edward said: “I don’t know. But I don’t like the sound of it.”

He took Gretchen’s hand and held it for a moment. I wished we had not seen those placards.

As we sat at dinner the doctor said: “It looks as though Hitler is planning to take over Austria.”

“He couldn’t do that,” said Edward.

“We shall see,” replied the doctor.