evening at Nutwood Manor. Nevertheless I failed to fall asleep in the Clematis Room. Lying awake didn’t matter much at first; there was plenty to ruminate about; the view across the Weald at sunset had revived my memories of “the good old days when I hunted with the Ringwell.” I had escaped from the exasperating boredom of hospital life, and now for a few weeks I could forget about the War. … But the War insisted on being remembered, and by 3 a.m. it had become so peremptory that I could almost believe that some of my friends out in France must be waiting to go over the top. One by one, I thought of as many of them as I could remember. …
I’d overheard Lady Asterisk talking about spiritualism to one of the officers; evidently she was a strong believer in the “unseen world.” Perhaps it was this which set me wondering whether, by concentrating my mind on, say, young Ormand (who was still with the Second Battalion) I might be able to receive some reciprocal communication. At three o’clock in the morning a sleepless mind can welcome inprobabilities and renounce its daylight scepticism. Neither voice nor vision rewarded my expectancy.
But I was rewarded by an intense memory of men whose courage had shown me the power of the human spirit—that spirit which could withstand the utmost assault. Such men had inspired me to be at my best when things were very bad, and they outweighed all the failures. Against the background of the War and its brutal stupidity those men had stood glorified by the thing which sought to destroy them. …
I went to the window and leant out. The gables of the house began to loom distinct against a clear sky. An owl hooted from the woods; cocks were crowing from distant farms; on the mantelpiece a little clock ticked busily. Oppressed by the comfort of my surroundings, I felt an impulse to dress and go out for a walk. But Arras and the Somme were a long way off; I couldn’t walk there and I didn’t want to; but they beckoned me