it was awful--awful! She could have shrieked and leaped out of the carriage, to run wildly anywhere--to the world's end--when she felt her hand taken, softly but firmly.
"My dear, how cold you are! Let me make you warm if I can." And then, in his own quiet, tender way, Dr.Grey wrapped her up in her shawl and rolled a rug about her feet.

She took no notice, submitted passively, and neither spoke a word more till they had driven on for two or three miles, into a country road leading to a village where Avonsbridge people sometimes went for summer lodgings.
Christian knew it well.

There, just before her father's death, he and she had lived, for four delicious, miserable, momentous weeks.

She had never seen the place since, but now she recognized it--every tree, every field, the very farm-house garden, once so bright, now lying deep in snow.

She began tremble in every limb.
"Why are we here?
This is not our right road.