During her visit to the fowl-yard after breakfast she began to
elaborate these plans.
She was clear now, once again, that the whole thing was a fantastic
delusion, and that its sole harm was that it was superstitious and
nerve-shaking. (She threw a large handful of maize, with a meditative
eye.) It was on that ground and that only that she would approach
Laurie. Perhaps even it would be better for her not to go and see him;
it might appear that she was making too much of it: a good sensible
letter might do the work equally well.... Well, she would wait at
least to hear from Mr. Cathcart once more. The second post would
probably bring a letter from him. (She emptied her bowl.)
She was out again in the spring sunshine, walking up and down before
the house with a book, by the time that the second post was due. But
this time, through the iron gate, she saw the postman go past the
house without stopping. Once more her spirits rose, this time, one
might say, to par; and she went indoors.
Her window looked out on to the front; and she moved her writing-table
to it to catch as much as possible of the radiant air and light of the
spring day. She proposed to begin to sketch out what she would say to
Laurie, and suggest, if he wished it, to come up and see him in a week
or two.
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