The hedges were already beginning to be partially clothed in their green livery; the meadows in the neighbourhood of London were fresh and bright; the birds twittered, and sprang from twig to twig; the primroses and wild violets already peeped forth on the more sunny banks. The unusually hard winter had been followed by the rapid bursting forth, the flush, of an early spring. As she advanced, the new-cut copses were spangled with wood anemones and the blue harebell; cowslips, and daffodils painted the fields. All nature seemed to smile before her. Her journey was one of positive enjoyment, notwithstanding the degree of fear which induced her prudently to avoid the large towns, and the considerable inns, at which she was likely to be known, and to put up only at the smallest and humblest resting-places. To Amy, the naturally light-hearted Amy, the joyous laugh was no longer a stranger. Her eye danced once more with gaiety, and she even occasionally trilled a snatch of one of her old Welsh ditties. Her lady smiled kindly upon her: "I scarcely thought ever to have heard that sound again, Amy. It does me good to hear it; and yet," she said, "there is much pain mingled with the pleasure it affords. It brings back with over-whelming tenderness past days of happiness;--past, never to return!" and her eyes filled with tears. "My dearest madam, I could chide myself for my silly song if it makes you weep." "No, dear Amy, sing on. I love to hear the melody, although it draws tears: they are not bitter ones." "Nay, madam, I can sing no more; my voice is gone:" and they rode on in silence. After several more days of continued journeying, Lady Nithsdale ventured to repose herself for two nights at Traquhair; where, with her sister-in-law, and Lord Traquhair, she enjoyed the happiness of a free outpouring of the soul, and where, to willing ears and open hearts, she gave every detail of their brother's escape. The lieutenant of the county being an old and tried friend of her lord's, she felt assured that he would allow no search to be made for her without forwarding to her due warning to abscond. She did not send any notice of her return to Terreagles, that the magistrates of Dumfries might not be prepared to make inquiries about her; but she suddenly made her appearance there, feigning that she had the leave of government to do so. The better to persuade them that it was with permission she was there, she sent to her neighbours and invited them to visit her; while in the interim she busied herself in securing the papers. The gardener alone knew where they had been buried, and with the assistance of the faithful old Hugh she recovered them. They were as yet unhurt; but, although in the highest state of preservation after one very severe winter, they could not have remained much longer in the ground without prejudice.