AsplendidMidsummershoneland:skiessopure,sunssoradiantaswerethenseeninlongsuccession,seldomfavourevensingly,ourwave-girtland.ItwasasifabandofItaliandayshadefromtheSouth,likeaflockofgloriouspassengerbirds,andlightedtorestthemonthecliffsofAlbion.Thehaywasallgotin;thefieldsroundThornfieldweregreenandshorn;theroadswhiteandbaked;thetreeswereintheirdarkprime;hedgeandwood,full-leavedainted,trastedwellwiththesunheclearedmeadowsbetween.

    OnMidsummer-eve,Adèle,wearywithgatheringwildstrawberriesinHayLanehalftheday,hadgoobedwiththesun.Iwatchedherdropasleep,andwheher,Isoughtthegarden.

    Itwasnowthesweetesthourofthetwenty-four:-“Dayitsfervidfireshadwasted,”anddewfellcoolonpantingplainandscorchedsummit.Wherethesunhadgonedowninsimplestate—pureofthepompofclouds—spreadasolemnpurple,burningwiththelightofredjewelandfurnaceflameatonepoint,ononehill-peak,aendinghighandwide,softandstillsofter,overhalfheavehaditsowncharmorfinedeepblue,anditsowgem,aoandsolitarystar:soonitwouldboastthemoon;butshewasyetbehehorizon.

    Iwalkedawhileonthepavement;butasubtle,well-knowhatofacigar—stolefromsomewindow;Isawthelibrarycasementopenahah;IknewImightbewatchedthence;soIartintotheorchard.NonookinthegroundsmoreshelteredandmoreEden-like;itwasfulloftrees,itbloomedwithflowers:averyhighwallshutitoutfromthecourt,ononeside;oher,abeechavenueseditfromthelawn.Atthebottomwasasunkfessoleseparationfromlonelyfields:awindingwalk,borderedwithlaurelsandterminatinginagianthorse-chestnut,circledatthebasebyaseat,leddow