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.
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