Chapter 43

           Thinkwhatitwouldbelikeifyougotbacktoyourislandand…IhadallTuesdaytothinknothingbutthat;toseemyselfasAlisonsawme.Itooktheenvelopeout,andlookedatthethread,andwaited.Itwasarelieftoteachhard,conscientiously,togetthroughthesuspense.OnWednesdayevening,whenIgutbackfrompost-siestaschooltomyroom,Ifoundanoteonmydesk.IrecognizedConchis’salmostcopperplatewriting;andIrecognizedsomethingelseintheelaboratestarthenotehadbeenfoldedinto.Icouldn’timagineConchiswastingtimeonsuchabusiness;butIcouldseeLilydoingso.Ithought,asIwasnodoubtmeantto,ofidleconvolutedwomeninEdwardiancountryhouses.Thenotesaid:WelookforwardtoseeingyouonSaturday.Ihopeyouhadamostenjoyablereconciliationwithyourfriend.IfIdonothearIshallknowyouarecoming.MauriceConchis.ItwasdatedaboveWednesdaymorning.Myheartleapt.Everythingduringthatlastweekendseemed,ifnotjustified,necessary.Ihadalotofmarkingtodo,butIcouldn’tstayin.Iwalkeduptothemainridge,totheinlandcliff.IhadtoseetheroofofBourani,thesouthoftheisland,thesea,themountains,alltherealityoftheunreality.Therewasnoneoftheburningneedtogodownandspythathadpossessedmetheweekbefore,butabalancingmixtureofexcitementandreassurance,acertaintyofthehealthofthesymbiosis.Iwastheirsstill;theyweremine.IwroteanotetoAlisonassoonasIgotback.

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