The glad word went round Riseholme one March morning that the earliest
flower in Perdita's garden was in bloom. The day was one of those
glories of the English spring-time, with large white clouds blown
across wide spaces of blue sky by the southwest wind, and with swift
shadows that bowled across the green below them. Parliament was in full
conclave that day, and in the elms the rooks were busy.
An awful flatness had succeeded Olga's departure. Riseholme naturally
took a good deal of credit for the tremendous success which had
attended the production of Lucretia, since it so rightly considered
that the real cradle of the opera was here, where she had tried it over
for the first time. Lucia seemed to remember it better than anybody,
for she remembered all sorts of things which no one else had the
faintest recollection of: how she had discussed music with Signor
Cortese, and he had asked her where she had her musical training. Such
a treat to talk Italian with a Roman--lingua Toscana in bocca
Romana--and what a wonderful evening it was. Poor Mrs Colonel
recollected very little of this, but Lucia had long been aware that
her memory was going sadly. After producing Lucretia in New York,
Olga had appeared in some of her old roles, notably in the part of
Brunnhilde, and Lucia was very reminiscent of that charming party of
Christmas Day at dear Georgino's, when they had the tableaux. Dear Olga
was so simple and unspoiled: she had come to Lucia afterwards, and asked
her to tell her how she had worked out her scheme of gestures in the
awakening, and Lucia had been very glad, very glad indeed to give her
a few hints. In fact, Lucia was quite herself: it was only her subjects
whom it had been a little hard to stir up. Georgie in particular had
been very listless and dull, and Lucia, for all her ingenuity, was at a
complete loss to find a reason for it.
But today the warm inflowing tide of spring seemed to renovate the
muddy flats, setting the weeds, that had lain dank and dispirited,
a-floating again on the return of the water. No one could quite resist
the magic of the season, and Georgie, who had intended out of mere
politeness to go to see the earliest of Perdita's stupid flowers
(having been warned of its epiphany by telephone from The Hurst) found,
when he set foot outside his house on that warm windy morning, that it
would be interesting to stroll across the green first, and see if there
was any news. All the news he had really cared about for the last two
months was news from America, of which he had a small packet done up in
a pink riband.
After getting rid of Piggy, he went to the newspaper shop, to get his
"Times," which most unaccountably had not arrived, and the sight of
"Todd's News" in its yellow cover stirred his drowsy interest. Not one
atom of light had ever been thrown on that extraordinary occurrence
when Robert bought the whole issue, and though Olga never failed to
enquire, he had not been able to give her the slightest additional
information. Occasionally he set a languid trap for one of the
Quantocks, but they never by any chance fell into it. The whole affair
must be classed with problems like the origin of evil, among the
insoluble mysteries of life.
It was possible to get letters by the second post an hour earlier than
the house-to-house delivery by calling at the office, and as Georgie
was waiting for his "Times," Mrs Quantock came hurrying out of the
post-office with a small packet in her hands, which she was opening as
she walked. She was so much absorbed by this that she did not see
Georgie at all, though she passed quite close to him, and soon after
shed a registered envelope. At that the "old familiar glamour" began to
steal over him again, and he found himself wondering with intensity
what it contained.
She was now some hundred yards in front of him, walking in the
direction of The Hurst, and there could be no doubt that she, too, was
on her way to see Perdita's first flower. He followed her going more
briskly than she and began to catch her up. Soon (this time by
accident, not in the manner in which, through eagerness she had
untidily cast the registered envelope away) she dropped a small paper,
and Georgie picked it up, meaning to give it her. It had printed matter
on the front of it, and was clearly a small pamphlet. He could not
possibly help seeing what that printed matter was, for it was in
capital letters: