The cedar — this impression remained with her afterwards too—prevented, kept it back. Like a rising sea the Forest had surged a moment in their direction through the covering darkness, and this visible movement was its first wave. Thus to her mind it seemed . . . like that mysterious turn of the tide that used to frighten and mystify her in childhood on the sands. The outward surge of some enormous Power was what she felt . . . something to which every instinct in her being rose in opposition because it threatened her and hers. In that moment she realised the Personality of the Forest . . . menacing.

In the stumbling movement that she made away from the window and towards the bell she barely caught the sentence Sanderson—or was it her husband? —murmured to himself: ' It came because we talked of it; our thinking made it aware of us and brought it out. But the cedar stops it. It cannot cross the lawn, you see. . . .'

All three were standing now, and her husband's voice broke in with authority while his wife's fingers touched the bell.

* My dear, I should not say anything to Thompson.' The anxiety he felt was manifest in his voice, but his outward composure had returned. * The gardener can go. . . .'

Then Sanderson cut him short. ' Allow me,' he said quickly. * I'll see if anything's wrong.' And before either of them could answer or object, he was gone, leaping out by the open window. They saw his figure vanish with a run across the lawn into the darkness.

A moment later the maid entered, in answer to

THE MAN WHOM THE TREES LOVED 37

the bell, and with her came the loud barking of the terrier from the hall.

' The lamps,' said her master shortly, and as she softly closed the door behind her, they heard the wind pass with a mournful sound of singing round the outer walls. A rustle of foliage from the distance passed within it.

* You see, the wind is rising. It was the wind!' He put a comforting arm about her, distressed to feel that she was trembling. But he knew that he was trembling too, though with a kind of odd elation rather than alarm. ' And it was smoke that you saw coming from Stride's cottage, or from the rubbish heaps he's been burning in the kitchen garden.