Rhoda was strongly irritated by her advances. Pauline’s snubs had never wounded her very deeply. Rhoda only valued the good opinion of those whom she respected. But Pauline’s eagerness to make friends turned her indifference to something like violent dislike. She found it hardly possible to speak civilly to her.
She went off at last into the depths of the wood, leaving Rose and Pauline together. Her irritation soon passed away when she was alone. The basket she had brought to fill with primroses remained empty in her hands. She wandered on, her eyes drinking in the beauty round her. Only the lower boughs of the trees were in leaf as yet, and the wood was full of golden light. Primroses were everywhere, and in the more open spaces celandines starred the ground with deeper yellow. In a month the glades between the trees would be carpeted by bluebells. But there were no bluebells yet. Spring was still in its infancy. The great oaks that skirted the wood stretched bare wintry boughs over the flowers beneath them.
It was a time of hope, of delicate, exquisite promise; and Rhoda’s lips curved with a happy, dreamy smile, as she listened to the story the woods whispered to her that April day.
The deep voice of the clock in Bingley church tower recalled her to the necessity of going back to her companions. It was four o’clock, the time they had fixed for starting homewards. It was not with any pleasure that she thought of the long drive. She suspected that Pauline and Rose had had a serious quarrel, and that Pauline’s politeness to her arose from a wish to vex Rose.
All the way to the woods Pauline had criticised Rose’s driving, speaking with authority, as if she had driven a pony carriage all her life. Rhoda could have laughed outright if she had not been so angry.
She found the two girls ready to start for the village when she got back to the spot where she had left them.
“Pauline wants to go round by the high road,” Rose said, looking appealingly at Rhoda. “It will make us much later at home. You can see the Abbey another day, Pauline. There isn’t much to see; is there, Miss Sampson?”
“It will not take us half an hour longer. How obstinate you are, Rosie!” exclaimed Pauline irritably. “I will drive, and make Bob understand that he must hurry a little. Why should we walk up that long tiresome lane to save his legs? There is no hill to speak of the other way, you say. I am too tired to walk a step. I am not so strong as you are. Miss Sampson, don’t you agree with me that the high road will be much the better way for us?”
“We promised Miss Merivale that we would be back early,” Rhoda said coldly. “I think it is a pity to go out of our way.”
“But we should be at home just as soon. Rose insists that we must all walk up the lane. I am sure you are too tired to do it, Miss Sampson, if I was not. But Bob is to be considered before either of us, eh, Rose?”