Spring had long since awakened the sleeping trees, rich life-giving sap had risen, and the sun coaxed them into opening their eyes to the new season. The orchard upon which Margaret was now gazing showed her a wealth of promise, as the gleam of fruit clusters shining through the green foliage caught her eye.
The outlook on the opposite side of the station, which she could just see through another window, was the exact counterpart of that near to where she was sitting, and presented a view prosaic enough, which needed some conjuring of the mind to suggest any ideas of romance.
Margaret tried to be interested, but her thoughts were trailing back to the dear old home surroundings when she heard the rumble of a cab. A few minutes later a one-horse vehicle drew up at the door, and her friend the porter jumped down, as she rose with alacrity and went to meet him.
"It's all right, miss, he knows Wychcliff, and says he can find 'Oaklands' when he gets there—it's an old farm that has stood empty for some time."
In a few minutes more Margaret had started upon her quest.
Steynham, quiet enough in the spring-time, but showing much more life as the fruit and hop seasons come round, was soon left behind, and the gradual ascent to Wychcliff was begun—a long drive through two or three villages, and then a steep climb up a narrow, grass-grown road, to the hills beyond. There was only room for one vehicle at a time, and Margaret was startled by suddenly hearing the driver calling at the top of his voice, "Hie—back—there!—back!" and the old cab came to a sudden standstill with a violent jerk. A sharp altercation ensued between the two Jehus, which sounded decidedly uncomplimentary; then her vehicle was jerked backwards down the hill, nearly overturning as it ran up on to the bank.
Miss Woodford was used to horses, and not easily frightened, so she sat tight, preferring the chance of an upset to getting out on to this unknown, narrow road, and in the darkness trying to find standing-room in the hedge. It was not a pleasant experience, as those who have driven up, or down Wychcliff hill in the evening can testify. Here and there at long intervals there are wider spaces cut back into the adjacent fields to allow vehicles to pass. Fortunately, one was near, and after much jolting and noise, with a good deal of argument on the part of the drivers, and a last shout from Cramp, whose temper was now up, of "'Nother time I'll see you back yer old caërt before I stop my currage for such as yew!"—and the cab crawled on again.
Would it ever end? she wondered, and the remembrance of that dark, lonely drive, with night settling down around her, never quite faded from her mind, although she little knew then the fears and doubts that were to await her later.
By dint of inquiry at a solitary cottage, which was passed at the top of the hill, they discovered the whereabouts of Oaklands Farm.
In the gloom Margaret could not see what her future home was like, the darkness being increased by the thick trees which surrounded it, only leaving just room for the cab to draw up before the front door.