quite definite threats. As a quite small child she had gathered the impression that she was sure to be damned unless she managed to convert herself into a quite different being from the person she knew herself to be. Death was the supreme bogey, the future life a thing not to be thought of if one wanted to be happy.

156

Yet now, just as if she had been through it all, the truth came flooding on her like a golden sea, the truth that life never loses touch with life, that the body is only a momentary manifestation of the ever living spirit.

Meeting Street, the old house so full of memories, Juliet’s letters, the garden, they had all been stretching out arms to her, trying to tell her something, whispering, suggesting, and now all these vague voices had become clear, as though strengthened by the moonlight and the mystery of night.

Clear as lip-spoken words came the message:

“You have lived before and we say this to you, we, the things that knew you and loved you in a past life.”

A step that halted outside close to the garden gate broke the spell, the gate turned on its hinges shewing through its trellis work the form of a man. It was Pinckney just returned from some supper-party or club.

Phyl caught her breath back. Suddenly, and at the sight of Pinckney, Prue’s words of that morning entered her mind.

“Miss Julie, Massa Pinckney told me tell yo’ he 157 be at de gate t’night same’s las’ night. Done you let on as I told you.”

157

And here he was, the man who had been occupying her thoughts and who was beginning to occupy her dreams, and here she was as though waiting for him by appointment.

But there was much more than that. Worlds and worlds more than that, a whole universe of happiness undreamed of.

She rose from the seat and the parted bushes rustled faintly as they closed behind her.

Pinckney, who had just shut the gate, heard the whisper of the leaves, he turned and saw a figure standing half in shadow and half in moonlight. For a moment he was startled, fancying it a stranger, then he saw that it was Phyl.

“Hullo,” said he. “Why, Phyl, what are you doing here?”

The commonplace 

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