THE BLUEBELL WOOD 



London, leaving you alone — but, not unprotected." I 

 could see his sneering bow to young Hervey — a bow 

 that was a blow. 



And all the while I was only seeing with the Stone 

 Dog's eyes. There was just the rippling sea of wild 

 Hyacinths, the pale gold of the Primroses, the innocent 

 white of the wood Anemones — like fairies' washing — 

 and the purple haze of bursting buds. 



Once the Stone Dog had looked along an avenue 

 and had seen a vista of Tanglewood Court, and smooth 

 terraces, and bright beds of flowers, with Lords and 

 Ladies walking up and down, taking the air, discussing 

 fruit trees, and Dutch gardening, and glass hives for 

 bees. Now, he saw nothing but the woods all brimming 

 with Spring flowers : a garden made by Nature. 



And then I thought I saw one Bluebell detach itself 

 from its fellows and come wafting to us with a fairy's 

 message, but it was a bright blue butterfly who sailed, 

 rejoicing in the sun. Somehow the butterfly reminded 

 me of the Lady Perpetua, soft and smiling, and fluttering 

 in the sun : as if she had returned to her woods in that 

 guise to hover near the tree, the trysting-place, on 

 which the initials were cut. 



I said as much to the Stone Dog, but received no 

 answer. 



" Stone Dog," I said, " England is a very wonderful 

 place : every park, every field, every little wood is 

 full of stories. I cannot pass a park gate without 

 thinking of the men and women who have been through 

 it. What a Garden of History the whole place is I 

 I'll warrant a Roman has kissed a Saxon girl in this 

 very place, for there's a camp not far off — perhaps you 

 have seen twinkling ghostly watch-fires gleaming in 

 the night. Young Hervey's dead, but you never saw 

 him die ; they fought in the garden on the smooth 



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