The Normanthorpe roses,
famous throughout the north of England, were as yet barely budding in
the kindless wind; the blaze of early bulbs was over; but there were the
curious alien trees, and the ornamental waters haunted by outlandish
wildfowl, bred there on the same principle of acclimatization.
"I expect you know the way quite well," said Rachel, as they followed a
winding path over a bank of rhododendrons near the lake; "to me every
stroll is still a voyage of exploration, and I shall be rather sorry
when I begin to know exactly what I am going to see next. Now, I have
never been this way before, and have no idea what is coming, so you must
tell me, if you know. What a funny scent! I seem to know it, too. Why,
what have they got here?"
On the further side of the bank of rhododendrons the path had descended
into a sheltered hollow, screened altogether from the colder winds, and,
even in this temperate month of May, a very trap for the afternoon sun.
And in this hollow was a clump of attenuated trees, with drooping leaves
of a lacklustre hue, and a white bark peeling from the trunk; a pungent
aroma, more medicinal than sylvan, hung rather heavily over the
sequestered spot.
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