He could have told what kind of trees his favorite birds would
choose and how they would build their nests among the branches.
Towards noon he caught the electric atmosphere pouring down the northern
mountains. He saw the old pines clambering up their bulwarks, and the
streams glancing and dancing down their rocky sides and over the brown
plowed fields below great flocks of crows flying heavily. Then he knew
that he was coming nigh to Hatton-in-Elmete and at last he saw the great
elm-trees that still distinguished his native locality. Then his heart
beat with a warmer, quicker tide. They blended inextricably with his
thoughts of mother and wife, child and home, and he felt strongly that
mystical communion between Man and Nature given to those
Whose ears have heard
The Ancient Word,
Who walked among the silent trees.
Not that Nature in any form or any measure had supplanted his thoughts
of Jane. She had been the dominant note in every reflection during all
the journey. Mountain and stream, birds and trees and shifting clouds
had only served as the beautiful background against which he set her in
unfading beauty and tenderness.
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