Nelly was silent a moment, and then said quietly---'Thank you. I'm glad you did.' They left the garden and wandered through some rocky fields on the side of the fell, till they came to one where Linnaeus or any other pious soul might well have gone upon his knees for joy. Some loving hand had planted it with daffodils--the wild Lent lily of the district, though not now very plentiful about the actual lakes. And the daffodils had come back rejoicing to their kingdom, and made it their own again. They ran in lines and floods, in troops and skirmishers, all through the silky grass, and round the trunks of the old knotted oaks, that hung as though by one foot from the emerging rocks and screes. Above, the bloom of the wild cherries made a wavering screen of silver between the daffodils and the May sky; amid the blossom the golden-green of the oaks struck a strong riotous note; and far below, at their feet, the lake lay blue, with all the sky within it, and the softness of the larch-woods on its banks. Nelly dropped into the grass among the daffodils. One could not have called her the spirit of the spring--the gleeful, earthly spring--as it would have been natural to do, in her honeymoon days. And yet, as Hester watched her, she seemed in her pale, changed beauty to be in some strange harmony with that grave, renewing, fruitful heart of all things, whereof the daffodils and the cherry-blossom were but symbols. Presently there were voices beneath them--climbing voices that came nearer--of a man and a woman. Nelly's hand begun to pluck restlessly at the grass beside her. Cicely emerged first, Cicely in white, very bridal, and very happy. Very conscious too, though she did not betray it by a movement or a look, of the significance of this first meeting, since Sarratt's death, between her brother and Nelly. But they met very simply. Nelly went a little way down the steep to meet them. She kissed Cicely, and gave Farrell her hand. 'It was very good of you to come.' But then it seemed to Hester, who could not help watching it, that Nelly's face, as she stood there looking gravely at Farrell, shewed a sudden trouble and agitation. It was gone very quickly, however, and she and he walked on together along a green path skirting the fells, and winding through the daffodils and the hawthorns. Cicely and Hester followed, soon perceiving that the two ahead had slipped into animated conversation. 'What can it be about?' said Cicely, in Hester's ear. 'I heard the word "Charcot,"' said Hester. The bride listened deliberately. 'And William's talking about an article in the _Lancet_ he's been boring Herbert and me with, by that very specialist that Nelly's so keen about,--the man that is going to have her trained to nurse his cases. Something about the new treatment of "shock." I say, Hester, what an odd sort of fresh beginning!' Cicely turned a look half grave, half laughing on her companion--adding hastily-- 'The specialist's married!'