Kim joined us.
"I shall sleep peacefully again," he said. "I'll tell you now, I've lived in fear that he would get out and come for you."
I smiled at him. There was scarcely any bitterness. He was Mellyora's husband and since that night of revelation I had begun to see how right and fitting it was that he should be. I had loved him for his strength and goodness, the manliness of him; I had built him into my dream until I believed that he was as necessary to my happiness as the Abbas. But dreams could never take the place of reality; and on a night of terror when I believed that for the second time in my life I was about to face death, I began to finish with dreams.
Kim was not for me. I admired him; I loved him still, but differently. My feelings for him had gradually been changing. I had even begun to see that, had I married him, our marriage would not have been the success his and Mellyora's was. They were made for each other; outside my dream, Kim and I were not.
Granny had wished me to marry; she wanted me to know that happiness she had shared with her Pedro. Perhaps somewhere in the world there was someone who could love me, whom I could love and with whom I could prove Granny s words that happiness was as willing a guest within four cob walls as in a mansion. He would have to be strong, bold, adventurous. Perhaps more so than Kim who had settled down so happily to the quiet country life.
And Carlyon? Our relationship had changed too. I loved him as deeply as ever but I had learned how precious my life was to me, and Carlyon's to him. We had talked of the future together—Joe with us. Carlyon was going to the University and when he was of an age to decide what career he wanted, he should follow it.
"It is for you to choose, Carlyon," I told him; and as he smiled at me I knew that there was between us that trust and affection which every mother must hope to share with a beloved child.
We are together often and I have great joy in my son.
So I have come out of the darkness. I am no longer walled in by the bricks which I laid with my own hands.
There are sometimes dark days, but they pass and life becomes happier as the weeks go on. Sometimes I fancy Granny is close to me, watching and applauding. I remember the wisdom she taught me; I often repeat some of the things she said to me and I hear them with a new understanding. Perhaps I am learning to live as she wished me to, learning my lessons. I have won back my son. Kim is my friend, Mellyora my sister.
Perhaps one day I shall find a life as satisfying as that Granny enjoyed with Pedro Bee—the good life, the life that came unbidden to Mellyora and was denied to me, the life of love, for loving is giving—all giving, making no demands, living only to give.
That is what I am slowly learning and when I have mastered the lesson, who knows, the good life may come.