CHAPTER XIX

THE NEW LIFE


Peter, with Thomas over his shoulder, stepped out of the little station
into a radiant April world. Between green, budding hedges, between
ditches where blue violets and joyous-eyed primroses peered up out of wet
grass, a brown road ran, gleaming with puddles that glinted up at the
blue sky and the white clouds that raced before a merry wind.

Peter said, "Do you like it, old man? Do you?" but Thomas's heart was too
full for speech. He was seeing the radiant wonderland he had heard of; it
crowded upon him, a vivid, many-splendoured thing, and took his breath
away. There were golden ducklings by the grassy roadside, and lambs
crying to him from the fields, and cows, eating (one hoped) sweet grass,
with their little calves beside them. A glorious scene. The gay wind
caught Peter by the throat and brought sudden tears to his eyes, so long
used to looking on grey streets.

He climbed over a stile in the hedge and took a field path that ran up to
a wood--the wood way, as he remembered, to Astleys. Peter had stayed at
Astleys more than once in old days, with Denis. He remembered the keen,
damp fragrance of the wood in April; the smooth stems of the beeches,
standing up out of the mossy ground, and the way the primroses glimmered,
moon-like, among the tangled ground-ivy; and the way the birds made every
budding bough rock with their clamorous delight. It was a happy wood,
full of small creatures and eager happenings and adventurous quests;
a fit road to take questers after happiness to their goal. In itself it
seemed almost the goal already, so alive was it and full of joy. Was