Gone to Earth

eeply wooded; only its top was bare and caught the light redly. It was a silent and deserted place, cowled in ancient

the summit a horn blown-very clearly, with tuneful devilry, and a scattered sound of deep barkin

n either side of the steep path. In the bright breathless glades of larches the willow-wrens sang softly, but with boundless vitality. On sunny slopes the hyacinths pushed out close-packed buds between their covering leaves; soon they would spread their grave blue like a prayer-carpet. Hazel, sto

later, sitting down on a log-'have you e

. 'It's like this,' Hazel went on. 'Father (he's a rum 'un,

is

Her's my little cub. Pretty! yo

thought

a new point of view to Edward.) 'She'm a fox, and s

mischievous,' Ed

understorm. 'Mischievous! And who made 'em mischiev

em,' Edward

He didna like 'em w

His reasons; He w

Hazel practically. 'So all as I can see to do is to

hink of m

I'd marry the first as

nta

rd had a kind of fai

er a

dy at

er a

e and asked for yo

emingly. But it dunna m

r shoul

she stood aureoled in dusky light. His eyes wer

ike to be married

ffirmative. He rece

aid tears and torment, tears and torment was the married lot. And she said, "Keep yourself to yourself. You w

hereal than the clouds that obscure it. He was always accustomed to think more of giving than receiving, so now he concentrated himself on what he could do for Hazel. He felt that her beauty would be an ample return for anything he could do as her husband to make her happy. If she would confide in

he would still no

oked round with a

to be here,

hy

ate. The jeath pack's about here

ark steeps, and the futur

come to us in this sp

e to you when you ar

many folk in Hi

rayers, Hazel?' he

! I

e year, kee

d turns silv

to the hil

e die quiet

hat I al

taugh

ma

od prayer if she taught it

clutched his ar

onder! Run! run! It's

om a search for Hazel. If he had come into the spin

g at Edward's arm; 'see the shivers on me

ed the ancient, cruel and mighty power of these exhalations of the soil. Nor did he see that Hazel was e

ots rested on the fender, and her skirt, carefully turned up, revealed a grey stuff petticoat with a hint of white flannel beneath. The pink shawl was top, which meant optimism. With Mrs. Marston, optimism was the direct result of warmth. Her spe

come to see

yed Hazel, and asked if she would like to do he

nd sisters have you, my

e. Nobody b

, has none.

ittle

the animals were

s be my brothe

ght. All animals in con

in reality is only a

have n

then! If they h

tened to m

mother?' he said. 'And

Hazel suspiciously over

n't have ide

smiled. 'What about you

what for shouldna you believe it?' said Hazel. 'Somet

sked Edward, in order to be ab

her hands, speaking in a soft mo

rst comes the Black Huntsman, crouching low on his horse and the horse going belly to earth. And John Meares o' the public, he seed the red froth from his nostrils on the brakes one morning when he was ketching pheasants

g,' said Edward, 'esp

myth, Mr

my dear,' sai

en! I tell you Joh

ould have drunk in nonse

'em in all the dark 'oods,' Hazel

the only time I'm really warm. That is, if the weather

e, Hazel!' p

you want to h

n looked as indignant as was possible to her physiognom

I love-ol

after, all with trouble on 'em. And the place is full of whispering and rustling and voices calling a long way off. And my mam said the trees get free that night-or else folk of the trees-creeping and struggling out of the boles like a chicken from an egg-getting free like lads out of school;

sense!' murmured Mr

ried Hazel; 'it's

s forsook her. Hazel bec

he was indignant with Hazel's father for such a mistaken upbringin

n her favourite topic. 'And if you'd like a seed-cake as w

de anything. Her most ambitious cooking

at you mean,' sh

r such a paragon. 'Well, well, cooking was

my poor child? But perhaps you go in for higher branches? L

he thought it best

aught,' she s

ame to the rescue agai

s education is not wha

ected! Think what a l

were to begi

a philosopher expounding her theory, 'is a well-beaten

know what he eats no more than

ear?' Mrs. Mar

da

h the mock-fur knitting in them, a

father's a-a

it,' said he loyal

and m

and hoste

ping house for your father, you know,' and found hi

e moon as a slim lady waiting for unlooked-for happenings-he could have wept at the crude sweetness of Hazel. She was of so ruthless an honesty towards hers

nd defend, to glow in my house like a

's woolly prayers, and Reddin's hoof-beats. All man's desires-predatory, fugitive, or merely negative-wander away into those dark halls, and are heard no more. Among the pillars of the night is there One who listens and remembers, and judges the foolishness of man, not by effects, but by motives? And does that One, in the majesty of everlasting vitali

know. For all our tears and prayers

gin, tentatively, his clear song-a song to bring tears by it

in her state of dark superstition she would hold by her vow. Suppose some other-some farm-hand, who would never see the real Hazel-should have been thinking over the matter, and should go to-day and should be the first? It was just how things happened. And then his flower would be gone, and the other man would never know it was a flower. He worked himself into such a fever that he could not rest, but got up and went out into the lively air, and saw

s this with Hazel by his side, and could not for the glory of it. Then he reasoned with himself. T

e could blossom here like a

s never t

him. And, indeed, the whole wide morning seemed to contradict his scheme-the mating birds, the sheep suckling their lambs, the insistent neighing and bellowing that rose from the fields and farms, the very tombs

and one that is not broken yet, thank God! It is miraculous that she has never come to harm, for that great overgrown boy, her father, takes no care of her. Yes, I was meant for that. I can't preach.' He smiled ruefully as he remembered how steadfastl

th him! How the roof of the parsonage shone like the New Jerusalem! And how the fantail pigeons, very rotund denizens of

decided he ought to give it to his mother. So he put it on h

So he read, 'The greatest of these is love,' and his voice was so husky and so unmanageable that Mrs. Marston, who did not notice the golden undertones that matched

dear, and you must take a

er. In real life he is called throaty, and given a level