Halcyone | Page 4

and present decay--only the
flower-beds of the highest terrace appeared even partly cultivated; the
two lower ones were a wild riot of weeds and straggling rose trees
unpruned and untrained, and if you looked up at the windows in the
southern wing of the house, you saw that several panes in them were
missing and that the holes had been stuffed with rags.
At this time of the year the beech avenue presented an indescribably
lovely sight of just opening leaves of tender green. It was a
never-failing joy to Halcyone. She walked the few paces which
separated her from it and turning, stood leaning against the broken gate
now, drinking in every tone of the patches the lowered sun made of
gold between the green. For her it was full of wood nymphs and elves.
It did not contain gods and goddesses like the others. She told herself
long stories about them.
The beech avenue was her favorite for the spring, the lime for the
summer, the chestnut for the autumn, and the oak for the winter. She
knew every tree in all four, as a huntsman knows his hounds. And
when, in the great equinoctial storm of the previous year, three giant
oaks lay shattered and broken, the sight had caused her deep grief, until
she wove a legend about them and turned them into monsters for
Perseus to subdue with Medusa's head. One, indeed, whose trunk was

gnarled and twisted, became the serpent of the brazen scales who
sleepeth not, guarding the Golden Fleece.
"As the tree falls so shall it lie," seemed to be the motto of La Sarthe
Chase. For none were removed.
Halcyone stretched out her arms and beckoned to her fairy friends.
"Queen Mab," she called, "come and dance nearer to me--I can see
your wings and I want to talk to you to-day!"
And as if in answer to this invitation, the rays of the lowered sun
shifted to an opening almost at her feet, and with a cry of joy the child
began to dance in the gorgeous light.
"Come follow, follow me, ye fairy elves that be," she sang softly.
And the sprites laughed with gladness, and gilded her mouse hair with
gold, and lit up her eyes, and wove scarves about her with gossamer
threads, and beneath her feet tall bluebells offered their heads as a
carpet.
But Halcyone sprang over them, she would not have crushed the
meanest weed.
"Queen Mab!" she said at last, as she sat down in the middle of the
sunlight, "I have found an old gentleman--and he is Cheiron, and if one
could see it in the right light, he may have a horse's body, and he is
going to teach me just what Jason learnt--and then I shall tell it to you."
The rays shifted again to a path beyond, and Halcyone bounded up and
went on her way.
Old William was drawing the elder Miss La Sarthe in a dilapidated
basket-chair, up and down on the highest terrace. She held a minute
faded pink silk parasol over her head--it had an ivory handle which
folded up when she no longer needed the parasol as a shade. She wore
one-buttoned gloves, of slate-colored kid, and a wrist-band of black

velvet clasped with a buckle. An inverted cake-tin of weather-beaten
straw, trimmed with rusty velvet, shadowed her old, tired eyes; an
Indian shawl was crossed upon her thin bosom.
"Halcyone!" she called querulously. "Where have you been, child? You
must have missed your tea."
And Halcyone answered:
"In the orchard."
For of what use to inform Aunt Ginevra about that enchanting visit to
Cheiron! Aunt Ginevra who knew not of such beings!
"The orchard's let," grunted old William--"they do say it's sold--"
"I had rather not hear of it, William," said Miss La Sarthe frowning. "It
does not concern one what occurs beyond one's gates."
Old William growled gently, and continued his laborious task--one of
the wheels squeaked as it turned on the flags.
"Aunt Ginevra, you must have that oiled," said Halcyone, as she
screwed up her face. "How can you bear it? You can't see the lovely
spring things, with that noise."
"One does not see with one's ears, Halcyone," quavered Miss La Sarthe.
"Take me in now, William."
"And she can't even see them with her eyes--poor Aunt Ginevra!"
Halcyone said to herself, as she walked respectfully by the chair until it
passed the front door on its way to the side. Then she bounded up the
steps and through the paneled, desolate hall, taking joy in climbing the
dog-gates at the turn of the stairs, which she could easily have
opened--and she did not pause until she reached her own room in the
battered south wing, and was soon curled up