ditions, that she crossed the bridge one fair, warm June evening,
and set her hesitating steps upon what seemed to her a wonderful piece
of ground. She entered it immediately upon crossing the bridge. The
green glades of the park woods were before her; the old giants of the
park trees stretched their great arms over her and shadowed her
footsteps. Such mighty trees! their great stems stood as if they had
been there for ever; the leafy crown of their heads was more majestic
than any king's diadem, and gave its protecting shelter, each of them,
to a wide domain of earth's minor growths. Underneath their branches
the turf was all green and gold, for the slant sun rays came in there
and gold was in the tree tops, some of the same gold; and the green
shadows and the golden bands and flecks of light were all still. There
was no stir of air that evening. Silence, the stillness and solitude of
a woodland, were all around; the only house visible from here was the
cottage Dolly had just quitted, with its rose-covered porch.

Dolly went a little way, and stood still to look and listen, then went
on a few steps more. The scene had a sort of regal beauty, not like
anything she had ever known in her life before, and belonging to
something her life had never touched. For this was not a primeval
forest; it was not forest at all; it was a lordly pleasure ground. A
"pleasaunee," for somebody's delight; kept so. There was no ragged
underbrush; there were no wildering bushes and briars; the green turf
swept away out of sight under the great old trees clean and soft; and
they, the oaks and beeches, stretching their arms abroad and standing
in still beauty and majesty, seemed to say--"Yes, we belong to the
family; we have stood by it for ages." Dolly could see no dead trees,
nor fallen lumber of dry branches; the place was dressed, yet
unadorned, except by its own magnificent features; so most simple, most
lordly. The first impression almost took away Dolly's breath. She again
went on, and again stood still, then went further; at last could go no
further, and she sat down on the bank under the shadow of a great oak
tree which had certainly seen centuries, and gave herself up to the
scene and her thoughts. They did not fit, somehow, and took possession
of her alternately. Sometimes her eyes filled with glad tears, at the
wonderful loveliness and stateliness of nature around her; the sense of
beauty overcame all other feelings; filling and sati