* * * * *
February was a month of heavy snows that year; great drifts buried the
fences and remained until well into March. April was April,--and very
much so; but they saw the blue waters of the bay sometimes; and
dogwood and willow stems were already aglow with colour; and a
premature blue-bird sang near Athalie's garden. Crocuses appeared
everywhere with grape hyacinths and snow-drops. Then jonquil and
narcissus opened in all their loveliness, and soft winds stirred the
waters of the fountain.
May found the garden uncovered, with tender amber-tinted shoots and
exquisite fronds of green wherever the lifted mulch disclosed the
earth. Also peonies were up and larkspur, and the ambitious promise of
the hollyhocks delighted Athalie.
Pink peach buds bloomed; cherry, pear, and apple covered the trees
with rosy snow; birds sang everywhere; and the waters of the pool
mirrored a sky of purest blue. But Athalie now walked no further than
the garden seat,--and walked slowly, leaning always on Clive's arm.
In those days throughout May her mother was with her in her room
almost every night. But Athalie did not speak of this to Clive.