"No," she said, smiling at his sudden change of manner. "I want fresh air, a sledge drive, and a day's outing. Will you come?"
He made no answer, and retired once more into the dark room. Then he came out with his camera.
"We will go to that inn again," he said cheerily. "I want to take the photographs to those peasants."
In half an hours time they were on their way. It was the same drive as before: and since then, Bernardine had seen more of the country, and was more accustomed to the wonderful white scenery: but still the "white presences" awed her, and still the deep silence held her. It was the same scene, and yet not the same either, for the season was now far advanced, and the melting of the snows had begun. In the far distance the whiteness seemed as before; but on the slopes near at hand, the green was beginning to assert itself, and some of the great trees had cast off their heavy burdens, and appeared more gloomy in their freedom than in the days of their snow-bondage. The roads were no longer quite so even as before; the sledge glided along when it could, and bumped along when it must. Still, there was sufficient snow left to make the drive possible, and even pleasant.
The two companions were quiet. Once only the Disagreeable Man made a remark, and then he said:
"I am afraid my negatives will be spoilt!"
"You said that before," Bernardine remarked.
"Well, I say it again," he answered in his grim way.
Then came a long pause.
"The best part of the winter is over," he said. "We may have some more snow; but it is more probable that we shall not. It is not enjoyable being here during the melting time."