There had been a frost in the night, and the bushes crackled; the late winter sun was thawing it in the branches. Behind the cloudy glass in the greenhouses were primulas and hyacinths, and all manner of scented things, a bright blur against the panes; but she walked rather the slippery paths in the lifeless garden.
She tried to picture the blackened tufts tall spikes of blossom, and the long line of rose trees, all muffled in dried fern, a bewildering lane of sweetness. Imagination failed her. The blackbird that shot out of the yew tree, screaming his sharp, sweet call; the little wagtail running at a wise distance in the path behind;—they might guess and remember what they would find in spring. She would be gone then; she would have stepped off the stage.
Foolishly she counted up the memories she would carry with her, looked back at the great old house, so warm inside. Strange to think of the time, so impossibly near, when Barnaby would release her, would tell her that he had made his arrangements for her to slip out of this fantastic life without scandal.
Well, she had played up to him; she had never lifted a miserable face, imploring him not to make her suffer so.
Something was choking in her throat. She had not realized how utterly she must pass out of his life until it struck her that she would never see one of these English flowers. The garden became unbearable, taunting her with its unknown mysteries, its hidden promise; and she hurried down the weather-stained wooden steps into the park.
There were rabbit tracks in the grass, and live things rustled in the spinney. A mat of beech-leaves kept the primroses warm. She leant wistfully over the rail, gazing down from the slatted bridge at the water. It was rushing past, very deep.
And then she found a snowdrop....
She heard the dogs scampering and looked up.
"There you are," said Barnaby, putting his arm through hers in friendly fashion. "—The servants, you know!" he reminded her in parenthesis, jerking his head towards the distant windows. "Let's gratify 'em, poor souls. They'll like to see us arm in arm."
He threw a stick to the dogs, and they scurried down the bank to retrieve it, but, missing it, found distraction in rummaging for a water rat. Then he turned again to Susan. She had plucked the snowdrop. That at least was given to her....