oice in the
touch of the spiritual, ready to
respond to the movement of the
Spirit. See him then arriving at
some farm-yard in the hills, or
may be at a country squire's
hall....'--CYRIL HEPHER,
'Fellowship of Silence.'_

_'The house was no doubt full of
music, as were indeed many others,
in that most musical of English
centuries.'--J. BAILEY, 'Milton.'_

_Motto on Seal of a letter to M.
Fell:_

1660
'_GOD ABOVE
KEEP US IN HIS LIGHT
AND LOVE._'

IX. UNDER THE YEW-TREES

Six gay girls sat together, laughing and talking, under the shadow of
the ancient yew-trees that guard the eastern corner of Swarthmoor
Hall. The interlaced boughs of the gloomy old trees made a cool canopy
of shadow above the merry maidens. It was a breathless day of late
June, 1652, at the very end of the 'wonderful fortnight.'

There they were, Judge Fell's six fair daughters: Margaret, Bridget,
Isabel, Sarah, Mary and little Susanna, who was but three years old,
on that hot summer afternoon.

''Tis a pity that there are only six of us,' Sarah was saying with
mock melancholy. 'Now, suppose my brother George instead of being a
boy had been a girl, then there would have been seven. The Seven
Sisters of Swarthmoor Hall! In truth it has a gallant sound like unto
a play. Seven Young Sisters and Seven Ancient Yew Trees! Each of us
might have a yew-tree then for her very own.' So saying, Sarah leant
back against the huge gnarled trunk behind her, her golden curls
rippling like sunshine over the wrinkled wood, while her blue eyes
peered into the dark-green depths overhead.

'Moreover, in that case,' continued Isabel, with a touch of sarcasm in
her voice, 'and supposing the Seventh Sister, who doth not exist, were
to have seven more daughters in her turn,--then it might be expected
that the Seventh Daughter of that Seventh Daughter would have keener
than mortal hearing, and sharper than mortal sight. She would be able
to hear the grass growing, and know when the fairies were making
their rings, and be able to catch the Brownies at their tasks, so the
country people say. Heigh ho! I wish she were here! Or I would that I
myself were the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter, or