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hought I； that he should require more conveniences than my father had found needful？ It was no use my telling myself that in my father's time the era of light railways had not dawned； and that if it had； we should have done our utmost to secure one； the thought of my cousin； stepping into my shoes； and then altering them； was odious to me。 By the time I was walking up the hill from the station I had got over this feeling too； and had entered a third stage of wondering uneasily what in the world I should do next。 Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started？ At the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question in detail； for I was very near the house now； and felt I wanted time。 Where； indeed； was the courage and joy of the morning？ It had vanished so completely that I could only suppose that it must be lunch time； the observations of years having led to the discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly affrighted on the approach of lunch； and none fly quicker than courage。 So I ate the lunch I had brought with me； hoping that it was what I wanted； but it was chilly； made up of sandwiches and pears； and it had to be eaten under a tree at the edge of a field； and it was November； and the mist was thicker than ever and very wet the grass was wet with it； the gaunt tree was wet with it； I was wet with it； and the sandwiches were wet with it。 Nobody's spirits can keep up under such conditions； and as I ate the soaked sandwiches； I deplored the headlong courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm； dry home where I was appreciated； and had brought me first to the damp tree in the damp field； and when I had finished my lunch and dessert of cold pears； was going to drag me into the midst of a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins。 Vast sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off。 The sheep dog kept up a perpetual； irritating yap。 In the fog I could hardly tell where I was； though I knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child。 After the fashion of woman directly she is not perfectly warm and perfectly comfortable； I began to consider the uncertainty of human life； and to shake my head in gloomy approval as lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves to my mind。
Now it is clearly a desirable plan； if you want to do anything； to do it in the way consecrated by custom； more especially if you are a woman。 The rattle of a carriage along the road just behind me； and the fact that I started and turned suddenly hot； drove this truth home to my soul。 The mist hid me； and the carriage； no doubt full of cousins； drove on in the direction of the house； but what an absurd position I was in！ Suppose the kindly mist had lifted； and revealed me lunching in the wet on their property； the cousin of the short and lofty letters； the unangenehme Elisabeth！ 〃Die war doch immer verdreht；〃 I could imagine them hastily muttering to each other； before advancing wreathed in welcoming smiles。 It gave me a great shock； this narrow escape； and I got on to my feet quickly； and burying the remains of my lunch under the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting； asked myself nervously what I proposed to do next。 Should I walk back to the village； go to the Gasthof； write a letter craving permission to call on my cousins； and wait there till an answer came？ It would be a discreet and sober course to pursue； the next best thing to having written before leaving home。 But the Gasthof of a north German village is a dreadful place； and the remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge once from a thunderstorm was still so vivid that nature itself cried out against this plan。 The mist； if anything； was growing denser。 I knew every path and gate in the place。 What if I gave up all hope of seeing the house； and went through the little door in the wall at the bottom of the garden； and confined myself for this once to that？ In such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased； without the least risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins； and it was after all the garden that lay nearest my heart。 What a delight it would be to creep into it unobserved； and revisit all the corners I so well remembered； and slip out again and get away safely without any need of explanations； assurances； protestations； displays of affection； without any need； in a word； of that exhausting form of conversation； so dear to relations； known as Redensarten！ The mist tempted me。 I think if it had been a fine day I would have gone soberly to the Gasthof and written the conciliatory letter； but the temptation was too great； it was altogether irresistible； and in ten minutes I had found the gate； opened it with some difficulty； and was standing with a beating heart in the garden of my childhood。
Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same potency as those that ran through me at that moment。 First of all I was trespassing； which is in itself thrilling； but how much more thrilling when you are trespassing on what might just as well have been your own ground； on what actually was for years your own ground； and when you are in deadly peril of seeing the rightful owners； whom you have never met； but with whom you have quarrelled； appear round the corner； and of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness 〃I do not think I have the pleasure？〃 Then the place was unchanged。 I was standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had always been just there； they curled away on either side among the shrubs； with the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of their green stains； just as they did in my day。 The overgrown lilac bushes still met above my head。 The moisture dripped from the same ledge in the wall on to the sodden leaves beneath； as it had done all through the afternoons of all those past Novembers。 This was the place； this damp and gloomy tangle； that had specially belonged to me。 Nobody ever came to it； for in winter it was too dreary； and in summer so full of mosquitoes that only a Backfisch indifferent to spots could have borne it。 But it was a place where I could play unobserved； and where I could walk up and down uninterrupted for hours； building castles in the air。 There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner； much frequented by the larger black slug； where I used to pass glorious afternoons making plans。 I was for ever making plans； and if nothing came of them； what did it matter？ The mere making had been a joy。 To me this out…of…the…way corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious place； where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant rows； and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me； for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all enchanted。
Standing there and looking round with happy eyes； I forgot the existence of the cousins。 I could have cried for joy at being there again。 It was the home of my fathers； the home that would have been mine if I had been a boy； the home that was mine now by a thousand tender and happy and miserable associations； of which the people in possession could not dream。 They were tenants； but it was my home。 I threw my arms round the tru