1 68 RED DEER. 



with age. The bright light of the summer 

 day, glowing June, stays at the glass panes — 

 looks in but comes no farther. It is lighted 

 but not full of light ; there is no brilliance in 

 the atmosphere above the great black table. 

 There are shadows in the corners and 

 under the cabinets — shadows that have lin- 

 gered there these centuries past ; the ceiling 

 is a broad, dark shadow, as if a cloud hung 

 overhead. A step in the passage sounds 

 afar and dull, as of some one who had gone 

 by into the stream of Time. His shadow 

 has flitted by the half- open iron-studded 

 door ; his .shadow only. The grey stone 

 floor cools the air of hottest June, as the 

 black furniture cools the light. Without, 

 the w T ood near at hand is lit up, brightly 

 green, and the leaves play in the breeze, 

 insects are busy there dancing their sun- 

 dance, and chestnut-bloom gleams white 

 among the spray. No insects enter here 

 through the half-open door — there is no 

 hum : it is silent, cool, and old. 



