I turned once more to the steep path through the woods, my legs reluctant, my head heavy, a strange sense of foreboding in my heart.
The house looked very peaceful as I came upon it from the woods and crossed the lawns.
It seemed sheltered and protected, more beautiful than I had ever seen it.
Standing there, looking down upon it from the banks, I realised, perhaps for the first time, with a funny feeling of bewilderment and pride that it was my home, I belonged there, and Manderley belonged to me.
The trees and the grass and the flower tubs on the terrace were reflected in the mullioned windows.
A thin column of smoke rose in the air from one of the chimneys.
The new-cut grass on the lawn smelt sweet as hay.
A blackbird was singing on the chestnut tree.
A yellow butterfly winged his foolish way before me to the terrace.
I went into the hall and through to the dining-room.
My place was still laid, but Maxim's had been cleared away.
The cold meat and salad awaited me on the sideboard.
I hesitated, and then rang the dining-room bell.
Robert came in from behind the screen.
'Has Mr de Winter been in?' I said.
'Yes, Madam,' said Robert; 'he came in just after two, and had a quick lunch, and then went out again.
He asked for you and Frith said he thought you must have gone down to see the ship.'
'Did he say when he would be back again?' I asked.
'No, Madam.'
'Perhaps he went to the beach another way,' I said;
'I may have missed him.'
'Yes, Madam,' said Robert.
I looked at the cold meat and the salad.
I felt empty but not hungry.
I did not want cold meat now.
'Will you be taking lunch?' said Robert.
'No,' I said.
'No, you might bring me some tea, Robert, in the library.
Nothing like cakes or scones.
Just tea and bread-and-butter.'
'Yes, Madam.'
I went and sat on the window-seat in the library.
It seemed funny without Jasper.
He must have gone with Maxim.
The old dog lay asleep in her basket.
I picked up The Times and turned the pages without reading it.
It was queer this feeling of marking time, like sitting in a waiting-room at a dentist's.
I knew I should never settle to my knitting or to a book.
I was waiting for something to happen, something unforeseen.
The horror of my morning and the stranded ship and not having any lunch had all combined to give birth to a latent sense of excitement at the back of my mind that I did not understand.
It was as though I had entered into a new phase of my life and nothing would be quite the same again.
The girl who had dressed for the fancy dress ball the night before had been left behind.
It had all happened a very long time ago.
This self who sat on the window-seat was new, was different… Robert brought in my tea, and I ate my bread-and-butter hungrily.
He had brought scones as well, and some sandwiches, and an angel cake. He must have thought it derogatory to bring bread-and-butter alone, nor was it Manderley routine.
I was glad of the scones and the angel cake.
I remembered I had only had cold tea at half past eleven, and no breakfast.
Just after I had drunk my third cup Robert came in again.
'Mr de Winter is not back yet is he, Madam?' he said.
'No,' I said.