“Of what am I thinking?” she asked herself, for her thoughts seemed to go out faintly, like the clouds; she seemed more conscious of the spring-time than she had ever been before, of a sense of delight going through her when, before her eyes, the sun came out, lighting up the distant inter-spaces and the stems of the trees close by.  The ash was coming into leaf, but among the green tufts, every bough could still be traced.  The poplars looked like great brooms, but they were reddening, and in another week or two would be dark green again.  The season being a little late, the lilacs and laburnums were out together; pink and white blossoms had begun to light up the close leafage of the hawthorns, and under the flowering trees grass was springing up, beautiful silky grass.  “There is nothing so beautiful in the world as grabs,” Evelyn thought, “fair spring grass.”  The gardener was mowing it between the flower beds, and it lay behind his hissing scythe along the lawn in irregular lines.

“There is the first swallow, just come in time to see the tulips, the tall May tulips which the Dutchmen used to paint.”

So did Evelyn think, and her eyes followed Sister Mary John’s jackdaw.  He seemed to know the hour of the day, and was looking out for his mistress, who generally came out after dinner with food for him, and speech—­the bird seemed to like being spoken to, and always put his head on one side so that he might listen more attentively.  A little further on Evelyn met three goslings straying under the flowering laburnums, and she returned them to their mother in the orchard.  Something was moving among the potato ridges, and wondering what it could be, she discovered the cat playing with the long-lost tortoise.  How funny her great fluffy tom-cat looked, as he sat in front of the tortoise, tapping its black head whenever it appeared beyond the shell.  All cats are a beautiful shape, but this one was a beautiful colour, “grey as a cloud at even”; but to leave him playing with the tortoise would be cruel to the tortoise, so she decided to carry the cat to the other end of the garden, where the sparrows were picking up the green peas.

The pear blossom had disappeared some weeks ago, and now the apple was in bloom.  Some trees were later than others, and there were still tight pink knots amid the brown boughs.  Evelyn sat down and closed her eyes, so that she might enjoy more intensely the magic of this Maytime.  Every now and again a breeze shook the branches, shedding white blossom over the bright grass, and faint shadows rushed out and retreated The sun was swallowed up in a sudden cloud.  A dimness came and a chill, but not for long enduring; the world was lit up, all the lilac leaves were catching the light and dancing in the breeze.  “How living the world is, no death anywhere.”  Then her eyes turned to the convent, for at that moment she caught sight of one of the lay sisters coming towards her, evidently the bearer of a message.  Sister Agnes had come to tell her that a lady had called to see her.