The tears clouded her eyes; she wandered blindly on through the wood
till she was conscious of sudden light and space. She had come to a
clearing, where several huge beeches had been torn up by a storm some
years before. Their place had been filled by a tangle of many saplings,
and in their midst rose an elder-bush, already showing leaf, amid the
bare winterly wood. The last western light caught the twinkling leaf
buds, and made of the tree a Burning Bush, first herald of the spring.
The sight of it unloosed some swell of passion in Diana; she found
herself smiling amid her tears, and saying incoherent things that only
the wood caught.
To-day was the meeting of Parliament. She pictured the scene. Marsham
was there, full of projects and ambitions. Innocently, exultantly, she
reminded herself how much she knew of them. If he could not have her
sympathy, he must have her antagonism. But no chilling exclusions and
reserves! Rather, a generous confidence on his side; and a gradual, a
child-like melting and kindling on hers. In politics she would never
agree with him--never!--she would fight him with all her breath and
strength.
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