Halcyone | Page 9

face fell.
"You promised to teach me Greek," she said simply, "and I know from
my 'Heroes' that is all that I need necessarily learn from anyone to
acquire the other things myself."
This seemed to Mr. Carlyon a very conclusive answer--his bent of mind
found it logical.
"Very well," he said. "When shall we begin?"
"Perhaps to-morrow. To-day if you have time I would like to take you
for a walk in the park--and show you some of the trees. The beeches are
coming out very early this year; they have the most exquisite green just
showing, and the chestnuts in some places have quite large leaves. It is
damp under foot, though--do you mind that?"
"Not a bit," said Cheiron.
And so they went, creeping through the hole in the paling like two
brigands on a marauding expedition.
"There used to be deer when I first came five years ago," Halcyone said.
"I remember them quite well, and their sweet little fawns; but the next
winter was that horribly cold one, and there was no hay to be put out to

them--my Aunts La Sarthe are very poor--and some of them died, and
in the summer the Long Man came and talked and talked, and Aunt
Roberta had red eyes all the afternoon, as she always does when he
comes, and Aunt Ginevra pretended hers were a cold in her head--and
the week after a lot of men arrived and drove all the tender, beautiful
creatures into corners, and took them away in carts with nets over
them--the does--but the bucks had pieces of wood because their horns
would have torn the nets."
Her delicate lips quivered a moment, as though at a too painful
memory--then she smiled.
"But one mother doe and her fawn got away--and I knew where they
were hiding, but I did not tell, of course--and now there are four of
them, or perhaps five. But they are very wild and keep in the copses,
and fly if they see anyone coming. They don't mind me, of course, but
strangers. The mother remembers that awful day, I expect."
"No doubt," said Cheiron; "and who is the 'Long Man' you spoke of as
having instigated this outrage?"
"He is the man of business, he was the bailiff once, but is a house agent
now in Applewood. And whenever he comes something has to go--we
all dread it. Last Michaelmas it was the Chippendale dining-room
chairs--"
"I know him then--I bought my cottage from him. I suppose all this is
necessary, because he seemed an honest fellow."
"Someone long ago made it necessary--it is not the Aunts' fault--" and
then Halcyone stopped abruptly and pointed to the beech avenue which
they were approaching now through the bracken, brown and crisp from
last year, with only here and there a green shoot showing.
"Queen Mab and the elves live there in May and early June," she said.
"They dance every afternoon as the sun sets, and sometimes in the
dawn, too, and the early morning. You can see them if you keep quite
still."

"Naturally," said Cheiron.
"Do you know, since last winter I have had a great pleasure," and
Halcyone's grave, intent eyes looked up into the old gentleman's face.
"There was a terrible storm in February--but can you really keep a
secret?"--and then, as he nodded his head seriously, she went on. "It
blew down a narrow piece of the paneling in the long gallery--it is next
to my room, you know--and I heard the noise in the night and lit a
candle and went to see. Some of the window panes are broken, so it is
very blustery there in storms. Well, there was a door behind it--a secret
door! I was so excited, but I could not keep the candle alight and it was
very cold. I saw nothing was broken--only the wind had dislodged the
spring. I was able to push it back and pull a little chest against it, and
wait till morning. And then what do you think I found?--it led to a
staircase in the thickness of the wall, which went down and down until
it came to a door right below the cellar--it took me days of dodging
Mademoiselle and Priscilla to carry down oil and things to help me to
open it--and then it came out in a hollow archway on the second terrace,
which has a stone bench in it, and is where old William keeps his tools.
It is so cleverly done you could never see it; it looks just as if it was no
door, but was only there for ornament. You may fancy I never told
anyone! It is my secret--and yours now--and it enabled me to do what I
have always longed to do--go