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“
I
will
go
back
to
Misselthwaite
,
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
,
I
’
ll
go
at
once
.
”
And
he
went
through
the
garden
to
the
villa
and
ordered
Pitcher
to
prepare
for
his
return
to
England
.
In
a
few
days
he
was
in
Yorkshire
again
,
and
on
his
long
railroad
journey
he
found
himself
thinking
of
his
boy
as
he
had
never
thought
in
all
the
ten
years
past
.
During
those
years
he
had
only
wished
to
forget
him
.
Now
,
though
he
did
not
intend
to
think
about
him
,
memories
of
him
constantly
drifted
into
his
mind
.
He
remembered
the
black
days
when
he
had
raved
like
a
madman
because
the
child
was
alive
and
the
mother
was
dead
.
He
had
refused
to
see
it
,
and
when
he
had
gone
to
look
at
it
at
last
it
had
been
,
such
a
weak
wretched
thing
that
everyone
had
been
sure
it
would
die
in
a
few
days
.
But
to
the
surprise
of
those
who
took
care
of
it
the
days
passed
and
it
lived
and
then
everyone
believed
it
would
be
a
deformed
and
crippled
creature
.
He
had
not
meant
to
be
a
bad
father
,
but
he
had
not
felt
like
a
father
at
all
.
He
had
supplied
doctors
and
nurses
and
luxuries
,
but
he
had
shrunk
from
the
mere
thought
of
the
boy
and
had
buried
himself
in
his
own
misery
.
The
first
time
after
a
year
’
s
absence
he
returned
to
Misselthwaite
and
the
small
miserable
looking
thing
languidly
and
indifferently
lifted
to
his
face
the
great
gray
eyes
with
black
lashes
round
them
,
so
like
and
yet
so
horribly
unlike
the
happy
eyes
he
had
adored
,
he
could
not
bear
the
sight
of
them
and
turned
away
pale
as
death
.
After
that
he
scarcely
ever
saw
him
except
when
he
was
asleep
,
and
all
he
knew
of
him
was
that
he
was
a
confirmed
invalid
,
with
a
vicious
,
hysterical
,
half
-
insane
temper
.
He
could
only
be
kept
from
furies
dangerous
to
himself
by
being
given
his
own
way
in
every
detail
.
All
this
was
not
an
uplifting
thing
to
recall
,
but
as
the
train
whirled
him
through
mountain
passes
and
golden
plains
the
man
who
was
“
coming
alive
”
began
to
think
in
a
new
way
and
he
thought
long
and
steadily
and
deeply
.
“
Perhaps
I
have
been
all
wrong
for
ten
years
,
”
he
said
to
himself
.
“
Ten
years
is
a
long
time
.
It
may
be
too
late
to
do
anything
—
quite
too
late
.
What
have
I
been
thinking
of
!
”
Of
course
this
was
the
wrong
Magic
—
to
begin
by
saying
“
too
late
.
”
Even
Colin
could
have
told
him
that
.
But
he
knew
nothing
of
Magic
—
either
black
or
white
.
This
he
had
yet
to
learn
.
He
wondered
if
Susan
Sowerby
had
taken
courage
and
written
to
him
only
because
the
motherly
creature
had
realized
that
the
boy
was
much
worse
—
was
fatally
ill
.
If
he
had
not
been
under
the
spell
of
the
curious
calmness
which
had
taken
possession
of
him
he
would
have
been
more
wretched
than
ever
.
But
the
calm
had
brought
a
sort
of
courage
and
hope
with
it
.
Instead
of
giving
way
to
thoughts
of
the
worst
he
actually
found
he
was
trying
to
believe
in
better
things
.
“
Could
it
be
possible
that
she
sees
that
I
may
be
able
to
do
him
good
and
control
him
?
”
he
thought
.
“
I
will
go
and
see
her
on
my
way
to
Misselthwaite
.
”
