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.