(for no reason that I can tell) to go through with my adventure; and when the first came alongside of me, I rose up from the bracken
and asked him the way to Aucharn.
The grass was short and green, and there were clothes-props cut from bracken
stems, with lines of plaited rushes, and a heap of tiny clothes pins--but no pocket-handkerchiefs!
Once it was a wild sow which scuttled out of the bracken
, with two young sounders at her heels, and once a lordly red staggard walked daintily out from among the tree trunks, and looked around him with the fearless gaze of one who lived under the King's own high protection.
I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep--on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken
, and mellow granite crag.
and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun.
He jumped from the cart, and having told the groom to take the mare home, made his way towards his guest through the withered bracken
and rough undergrowth.
He praised the pine-woods, the deep lasts of bracken
, the crimson leaves that spotted the hurt-bushes, the serviceable beauty of the turnpike road.
A wide, open space lay before us--some hundreds of yards across--all green turf and low bracken
growing to the very edge of the cliff.
The boys, who had to wriggle hastily down from the trees, were later; and Anne, who had not been picking gum at all but was wandering happily in the far end of the grove, waist deep among the bracken
, singing softly to herself, with a wreath of rice lilies on her hair as if she were some wild divinity of the shadowy places, was latest of all.
That home lies amid a sequestered and rather hilly region, thirty miles removed from X ; a region whose verdure the smoke of mills has not yet sullied, whose waters still run pure, whose swells of moorland preserve in some ferny glens that lie between them the very primal wildness of nature, her moss, her bracken
, her blue-bells, her scents of reed and heather, her free and fresh breezes.
It happened that they had made the acquaintance of two young ladies in employment in Clapham, Miss Flossie Bright and Miss Edna Bunthorne, and it was resolved therefore to make a cheerful little cyclist party of four into the heart of Kent, and to picnic and spend an indolent afternoon and evening among the trees and bracken
between Ashford and Maidstone.
Noticing the difficulty with which he walked, and feeling the same extreme lassitude in her own limbs, she proposed that they should rest for a moment where the bracken
was brown and shriveled beneath an oak-tree.