The Foreshadowing Read Online Free PDF Page A

government might introduce conscription, and then that would be that. Tom would have to join the army whether he wanted to or not. But maybe he could join the medical corps, so he could at least keep on being a doctor.
    I’ve been studying as usual, visiting Miss Garrett’s house with the three other girls who attend her private lessons. And I’ve been trying to persuade Father to take me back to the hospital. So far he refuses to discuss it, though he himself said I did well on my first day there.
    I know what he’s afraid of.

88

    Edgar doesn’t write much. The last time was to tell us about his leave, but he did say that his battalion had seen action at last.
    Father read the letter out loud at breakfast. Edgar is a captain. He is twenty-four. These two things seem not to belong together, but they’re true. He has a company of men to command.
    “I’ll write to Thomas,” Mother said.
    “What for?” Father asked, looking up from the letter.
    “To see if he can come home. When Edgar does.”
    “What for?” Father asked again.
    “It will be nice for us all to be together.”
    Father put down the letter and took up the paper.
    “The boys will want to see each other,” Mother continued. “We ought to try to be together as a family when we can.”
    Father snorted.
    “We won’t know when he’s coming,” he said. “We may not get any warning at all, so you won’t be able to tell Thomas.”
    “Well,” said Mother, “we’ll see. Maybe Edgar will be able to let us know.”
    “He won’t,” Father said.
    Mother put down her teacup with a rattle in its saucer.
    “And maybe he will,” she blurted out. I looked up at Father, who had dropped the paper and stared at Mother. He got up and left the room without another word.
    Mother stood up too without even calling Molly to clear the things away. I heard her open the back door and go into the garden. I stared at the tablecloth, a blue gingham. I noticed all the tiny crumbs from my toast lying on it, and then I noticed fat tears dropping onto them from my eyes.
    I knew why Mother was upset, and I felt it too.
    I sat by myself at the table.

87

    There is no one I can talk to about what I feel, what I have felt each time it has happened. That it’s just as real to me as any other emotion.
    Mother won’t listen to me, because she loves me too much. To her I’ll always be Sasha, her little princess.
    Maybe I could talk to Thomas. He’s got a scientific mind, that’s why he’ll be a good doctor, but he’s open-minded, too. I know he’d listen to me at least, but he’s not here. I wouldn’t even try to talk to Edgar.
    Maybe I could talk to Miss Garrett about it. I’m not sure it’s wise. I certainly wouldn’t talk to the other girls in her class. They’re so silly, and just spend their time gossiping and giggling. And odd things have been happening to me there, as well.
    Small things, chance occurrences, coincidences.
    I’ve been studying The Iliad, the story of Troy. Of Helen and Paris, of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Today Miss Garrett broke off from her discussion of the death of Achilles and began to tell us about something else. She was very animated and engaging as she spoke of the recurrent symbols of myth.
    Miss Garrett is amazing. She’s not that young, and despite the fact that she’s quite beautiful, she hasn’t married yet. She went to university and has been teaching privately ever since. She has such energy in what she does. I want to do the same with nursing.
    She was talking about specific symbolic meanings, and as she did, I knew just what she was about to say before she had said it. And as I felt this, I remembered a dream from last night, a vivid dream, which I had quite forgotten.
    “I mention this,” Miss Garrett was saying, “because we have been looking at the battles before the walls of Troy. Such dramatic events as these in human history of course give rise to many striking thoughts and images.”
    It was a strange