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uous santas； snow scenes and robins and putting aside the ones that showed the madonna。 every year he collected a secret pile of them： jewel…colored images of the mother gazing in rapture at her single； plete； perfect infant； the infant gazing back at her； the two of them making a blissful circle of love and wholeness。 every year they went in the trash； the lot of them。
miss winter； i knew； would not object if i asked to stay。 she might even be glad to have a panion in the days ahead。 but i did not ask。 i could not。 i had seen emmeline’s decline。 as she had weakened； so the hand on my heart had squeezed more tightly； and my growing anguish told me that the end was not far off。 it was cowardly of me； but when christmas came； it was an opportunity to escape； and i took it。
in the evening； i went to my room and did my packing； then went back to emmeline’s quarters to say good…bye to miss winter。 all the sisters’ whispers had fluttered away； the dimness hung heavier； stiller than before。 miss winter had a book in her lap； but if she had been reading； she could see to read no longer； instead； her eyes watched in sadness her sister’s face。 in her bed； emmeline lay immobile； the covers rising and falling gently with her breath。 her eyes were closed and she looked deeply asleep。
‘margaret；“ miss winter murmured； indicating a chair。 she seemed pleased that i had e。 together we waited for the light to fade； listening to the tide of emmeline’s breath。
between us； in the sickbed； emmeline’s breath rolled in and out； in a smooth； imperturbable rhythm； soothing like the sound of waves on a seashore。
miss winter did not speak； and i； too； was silent； posing in my mind impossible messages i might send to my sister via this imminent traveler to that other world。 with every exhalation； the room seemed filled with a deeper and more enduring sorrow。
against the window； a dark silhouette； miss winter stirred。
‘you should have this；“ she said； and a movement in the darkness told me she was holding something out to me across the bed。
my fingers closed on a rectangular leather object with a metal lock。 some sort of book。
‘from emmeline’s treasure box。 it will not be needed anymore。 go away。 read it。 when you e back we will talk。“
book in hand； i crossed the room to the door； feeling my way by the furniture in my path。 behind me was the tide of emmeline’s breath rolling in and out。
/d/
A DIARY AND A TRAIN
～
hester’s diary was damaged。 the key was missing； the clasp so rusted that it left orange stains on your fingers。 the first three pages were stuck together where the glue from the inner cover had melted into them。 on every page the last word dissolved into a brownish tide mark； as if the diary had been exposed to dirt and damp together。 a few pages had been torn； along the ripped edges was a tantalizing list of fragments： abn； cr； ta； est。 worst of all； it seemed that the diary had at some point been submerged in water。 the pages undulated； when closed； the diary splayed to more than its intended thickness。
it was this submersion that was going to cause me the greatest difficulty。 when one glanced at a page； it was clear that it was script。 not any old script； either； but hester’s。 here were her firm ascenders； her balanced； fluid loops； here were her fortable slant； her economic yet functional gaps。 but on a closer look； the words were blurred and faded。 was this line an l or a t？ was this curve an a or an e？ or an s； even？ was this configuration to be read as bet or lost？
it was going to be quite a puzzle。 although i subsequently made a transcript of the diary； on that day the holiday train was too crowded to permit pencil and paper。 i hunched in my window seat； diary close to my nose； and pored over the pages； applying myself to the task of deciphering。 i managed one word in three at first； then as i was drawn into the flow of her meaning； the words began to e halfway to meet me； rewarding my efforts with generous revelations； until i was able to turn the pages with something like the speed of reading。 in that train； the day before christmas； hester came to life。
i will not test your patience by reproducing hester’s diary here as it came to me： fragmented and broken。 in the spirit of hester herself； i have mended and tidied and put in order。 i have banished chaos and clutter。 i have replaced doubt with certainty； shadows with clarity； lacunae with substance。 in doing so； i may have occasionally put words into her page that she never wrote； but i can promise that if i have made mistakes； it is only in the small things； where it matters i have squinted and scrutinized until i am as sure as sure can be that i have distinguished her original meaning。
i do not give the entire diary； only an edited selection of passages。 my choice has been dictated first by questions of relevance to my purpose； which is to tell the story of miss winter； and second by my desire to give an accurate impression of hester’s life at angelfield。
angelfield house is decent enough at a distance； although it faces the wrong way and the windows are badly positioned； but on approaching； one sees instantly the state of dilapidation it has been allowed to fall into。
sections of the stonework are dangerously weathered。 window frames are rotting。 and it did look as though parts of the roof are storm…damaged。 i shall make it apriority to check the ceilings in the attic rooms。
the housekeeper weled me at the door。 though she tries to hide it； i understood immediately that she has difficulty seeing and hearing。 given her great age； this is no surprise。 it also explains the filthy state of the house； but i suppose the angelfield family does not want to throw her out after a lifetime’s service in the house。 i can approve their loyalty； though i fail to see why she cannot be helped by younger； stronger hands。
mrs。 dunne told me about the household。 the family has been living here with what most would consider a greatly reduced staff for years now； and it has e to be accepted as part of the way of the house。 quite why it should be so； i have not yet ascertained； but what i do know is that there is； outsi