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First edition. Minor jacket edge wear, light foxing on page ridges.Very Good. 1953 Hard Cover. This haunting novel is a double pilgrimage, two journeys in time, one contained within a single raw day in early spring on the New England coast, the other covering sixty-odd years. Both may end in exhaustion and death or they may end, as we say, happily. Written with consummate artistry, The Barcelete has a strength so naturally experienced that it may not be consciously recognized. On a small point lighthouse stands boldly against the sky. Though a weak sunshine warms a little the protected corners of the pastures above, in the open a boisterous wind whips over patches of old snow. At the top of the hill an old woman appears, bracing herself against the gusts with a strong cane. The distance down to the light, measured in yards, is not great; but measured by her faltering steps it is formidable. Her strength may not suffice to complete the journey. As she advances down the upper pasture she tries to keep her mind on the uneven path, on the wind that troubles her balance, but it goes darting into the past, gradually reassembling the events that have brought her here on this windswept hill. She was once the girl Jane, who became estranged from a beloved father (and had never been able to rid herself completely of remorse). She was a young wife with no love for the husband who five her stolid worship. (She had run away). She loved an artist who gave her no wedding ring but an antique bracelet. She was a wife again to a man she might have loved. By him she had a son. We fashion our lives, our punishments, in our own image. Had she put into her son's heart the same stubborn price she herself had shown towards her father? Was it too late to establish understanding and forgiveness? She was undertaking these journeys in both planes of time to find out.