bushes flaunted their colour, larch trees hung out their tassels and
celandines starred the bright green grass in an air which seemed
palpably blue. It made a mist among the trees and poured itself into
the ground as though to dye the earth from which hyacinths would soon
spring. Far away, the channel might have been a still, blue lake, the
hills wore soft blue veils and, like a giant reservoir, the deeper
blue of the sky promised unlimited supplies. There were sheep and
lambs bleating in the fields, birds sang with a piercing sweetness,
and no human being was in sight until, up on the broad grassy track
which branched off from the main road and had the larch wood on one
side and, on the other, rough descending fields, there appeared a
woman on a horse. The bit jingled gaily, the leather creaked, the
horse, smelling the turf, gave a snort of delight, but his rider
restrained him lightly. On her right hand was the open country sloping
slowly to the water; on her left was the stealthiness of the larch
wood; over and about everything was the blue day. Straight ahead of
her the track dipped to a lane, and beyond that the ground rose again
in fields sprinkled with the drab and white of sheep and lambs and
backed by the elm trees of Sales Hall. She could see the chimneys of
the house and the rooks' nests in the elm tops and, as though the
sight reminded her of something mildly amusing, the smoothness of her
face was ruffled by a smile, the stillness of her pose by a quick
glance about her, but if she looked for anyone she did not find him.
There were small sounds from the larch wood, little creakings and
rustlings, but there was no human footstep, and the only visible
movements were made by the breeze in the trees and in the grass, the
flight of a bird and the distant gambolling of lambs.

She rode on down the steep, stony slope into the lane, and after
hesitating for a moment she turned to the right where the lane was