The picture of the cabin as I had first seen it, at the end of that lane, with the willow leaning over it, was in me, and the confusion disappeared and I was certain. And then I came back and saw this living room, this one I was in now, and I could see the children upstairs, asleep, Stephen upstairs also, sitting up in bed, his glasses hanging low on his nose, reading, waiting for me to get tired and come to bed, and I did not know any more. The pattern switched back and forth through an infinite night, long past the time when Stephen must have stopped waiting and gone to sleep: the flash of the cabin and knowing; the picture of this house and these people, and instantly the turmoil again, the guilt, the needs, the ties, the memory of loving. Back and forth it went, back and forth until I couldn’t bear the upheaval, the comfort was with the cabin, that was where I was.

And then the choice was finished, there was no confusion, there had been no choice. There were things to be done, arrangements to be made, very practical things, but the image of the cabin stayed and it must be managed.

I felt very loving then, as if I were dying almost, and I went upstairs and stopped in the rooms where the children slept, making sure they were covered, and then I went to Stephen, who woke up when he felt my weight on the bed, and we made love and I was there, with him, but it was as if I were saying good-bye, a mournful kind of loving.

It was the last time; things moved very quickly after that.

8

8

There was no question, then, of saying anything to Stephen. My excuse for going to see the place, the idea that we might use it as a retreat, was gone. It was not to be shared. It was a private vision, and just the sound, the presence of these people, any people, might take it away; it could be frightened, would make itself a secret again, and I would not find it with them.

For my own sake, too, I could not talk of what I planned. In telling it, I would lose it. And in any case I would not find the words, Stephen would not let me get away. He would surround me, want to “help” and prevent my escape. He would have to do that because he was a good man, and he could not see with my eyes.