108 THE HERON OF CASTLE CREEK 



in their free and happy ways, could possibly be 

 sought out simply as the means of sport, offer- 

 ing little more than the tests of a falcon's flight, 

 and marked for death at the very moment when 

 the springer flushed them from the reedy mere. 



As summer drew nigh Renoult's love for the 

 wild creatures in the great forest on the banks 

 of the creek a love owing birth to that morn- 

 ing on the marsh immeasurably increased, and 

 so absorbed him that he was seldom as happy 

 as when he stole through the grassy glades, or 

 over the open wastes of moor and bog, or along 

 the banks of river and creek, his eyes alert for 

 every movement, his ears quick to catch every 

 note of bird and beast. But for the gaunt heron 

 he had wounded from the Castle keep he main- 

 tained a peculiar fondness. 



One place in the forest to which Renoult 

 frequently resorted was a wild yet sheltered 

 dingle, overgrown with furze and brambles, 

 littered with big white boulders that gleamed 

 among the rocks, and pastured by sheep belong- 

 ing to the industrious Flemish weavers, who 

 dwelt in neighbouring hamlets beneath the 

 protection of their feudal lord. The young 

 noble, wise beyond his years, felt that the 

 perfect solitude appealed to him, suggesting 

 ease and calm in contrast with the warlike bustle, 

 and the preparations for feasts and sports, in- 



