Chapter XXX

It was late afternoon in the same day, a bright,
sunny golden afternoon, more like a warm May day
than a day in March.

The bride and bridegroom, each feeling more than a
little shy, had enjoyed their late luncheon, the first
they had ever taken alone together. And Major Guthrie
had been perhaps rather absurdly touched to learn,
from a word dropped by Howse, that the new mistress
had herself carefully arranged that this first meal
should consist of dishes which Howse had told her his
master particularly liked. And as they sat there, side
by side, in their pleasant dining-room -- for he had not
cared to take the head of the table -- the bridegroom
hoped his bride would never know that since his blindness
he had retained very little sense of taste.

After luncheon they had gone out into the garden,
and she had guided his footsteps along every once familiar
path. Considering how long he had been away,
everything was in very fair order, and she was surprised
to find how keen he was about everything. He
seemed to know every shrub and plant there, and she
felt as if in that hour he taught her more of practical
gardening than she had ever known.

And then, at last, they made their way to the avenue
which was the chief glory of the domain, and which
had certainly been there in the days when the house
had stood in a park, before the village of which it was

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v?