The words streamed from his lips and he felt a relief at speaking them aloud at last. His heart eased, unburdened of secrets, though they be dangerous in the telling.
‘Is that, then, your father?’ Clarimond whispered.
Tobias watched as the bearded man and his love wandered beneath the trees of the ethereal orchard, both too full of wonder to speak. ‘My great-grandfather, I think,’ he murmured in reply. ‘Cornelius Dwerryhouse. A widower by now, my grandfather already a young man.’ He watched sadly as Cornelius captured the hand of his love and laid a tender kiss upon it, whispering something to her which Tobias could not hear. ‘I did not know that he ever had notions of marrying again.’
Cornelius and Rosamund roused themselves from their enchanted daze, seeming to remember at last their
