But the autumn had scarce
advanced beyond the outworks; it was still almost summer in the heart
of the wood; and as soon as I had scrambled through the hedge, I
found myself in a dim green forest atmosphere under eaves of virgin
foliage. In places where the wood had itself for a background and
the trees were massed together thickly, the colour became intensified
and almost gem-like: a perfect fire green, that seemed none the less
green for a few specks of autumn gold. None of the trees were of any
considerable age or stature; but they grew well together, I have
said; and as the road turned and wound among them, they fell into
pleasant groupings and broke the light up pleasantly. Sometimes
there would be a colonnade of slim, straight tree-stems with the
light running down them as down the shafts of pillars, that looked as
if it ought to lead to something, and led only to a corner of sombre
and intricate jungle. Sometimes a spray of delicate foliage would be
thrown out flat, the light lying flatly along the top of it, so that
against a dark background it seemed almost luminous. There was a
great bush over the thicket (for, indeed, it was more of a thicket
than a wood); and the vague rumours that went among the tree-tops,
and the occasional rustling of big birds or hares among the
undergrowth, had in them a note of almost treacherous stealthiness,
that put the imagination on its guard and made me walk warily on the
russet carpeting of last year's leaves.
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