Secret for a Nightingale

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On the night before my wedding I had a strange dream from which I awoke in terror. I was in the church and Aubrey was beside me. The scent of flowers was strong upon the air-lilies, heavy, overpowering, the odour of death. Uncle James the Reverend James Sandown was standing before us. The church was that which had become so familiar to me during my schooldays when I had stayed at the rectory with Uncle James and Aunt Grace because I could not join my father at the Indian outpost where he might be stationed. I heard my voice disembodied as though echoing in an empty place: T, Susanna, take thee, Aubrey, to my wedded husband . ” Aubrey was holding the ring. He took my hand and his face was coming nearer and nearer … and then the terror overtook me. It was not Aubrey’s face, and yet it was. It was not the face I knew. It was distorted … leering, strange, horrible, frightening. I heard a voice crying: No! No! And it was my own.

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