I had a dream last night in which you had returned to St. Austell to see me married. But Miss Marsh was the bride, not I, and you were walking down the aisle at Holy Trinity, with her as your new wife. Mother was nowhere to be found, and in the distance I saw a man without a face, staring at me, and you, and Mary. I felt such hatred from him. I don’t think I’ve ever awakened from a dream more frightened… Holding her feathered hat on her head to keep it from blowing away in the brisk wind, Mary entered the cathedral doors at the back of Holy Trinity Church. For moments, as they slowly closed behind her, she allowed her eyes to adapt to the dimness within. Then after adjusting her skirts and brushing breeze-blown hair away from her face with her fingers, she straightened and stepped farther inside in search of Claudette Coswell. The church, an unusual style for Cornwall, displayed finely sculpted figures on its tower. Mary found it lovely, but all too silent for the moment, damp and chilly.
