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Here, at Hennersley, from out the quite recently ice-bound earth, softened and moistened now by spring rain, there rises up row upon row of snowdrops, hyacinths and lilies, of such surpassing sweetness and beauty that I hold my breath in astonishment, and ecstatically chant a Te Deum to the fairies for sending such white-clad loveliness.
A shady avenue, entered by a wooden swing gate bearing the superscription "Hennersley" in neat, white letters, led by a circuitous route to it, and not a vestige of it could be seen from the road. In front of it stretched a spacious lawn, flanked on either side and at the farthest extremity by a thick growth of chestnuts, beeches, poplars, and evergreens. The house itself was curiously built.
To proceed the nakedness of the walls of Hennersley was veiled who shall say it was not designedly veiled by a thick covering of clematis and ivy, and in the latter innumerable specimens of the feathered tribe found a sure and safe retreat. On entering the house, one stepped at once into a large hall. A gallery ran round it, and from the centre rose a broad oak staircase.
I gasp for breath the beauty of tint and tone surpasses all that I have hitherto seen it is sublime, the grand climax of transformation. As the curtain falls with the approach of winter, I hurry to my Edinburgh home and pray for the prompt return of early spring. For many years my aged relatives, the Misses Amelia and Deborah Harbordeens, lived at Hennersley.
To me Hennersley is what the Transformation Scene at a Pantomime was to the imaginative child the dreamy child of long ago a floral paradise full of the most delightful surprises.
In the daytime, all Hennersley was sunshine and flowers, and, stray where I would, I never felt lonely or afraid; but as the light waned I saw and felt a subtle change creep over everything.
My relatives seemed to possess some phenomenal attraction for the sunlight, for, no matter where they sat, a beam brighter than the rest always shone on them; and, when they got up, I noticed that it always followed them, accompanying them from room to room and along the corridors. But this was only one of the many pleasant mysteries that added to the joy of my visits to Hennersley.
When the warm weather came, they made similar use of the deep-set window-sills, over which they indulgently permitted me to scramble on to the lawn. The sunlight was a special feature of Hennersley. Forcing its way through the trellised panes, it illuminated the house with a radiancy, a soft golden radiancy I have never seen elsewhere.
That night unable to sleep through the excitement caused by my discovery of the home of the genii I lay awake, my whole thoughts concentrated in one soul-absorbing desire, the passionate desire to see the fairy of Hennersley I had never heard of ghosts and hear its story. My bedroom was half-way down the corridor leading from the head of the main staircase to the extremity of the wing.
As I continue gazing, the aromatic odour of mellow apples from the Hennersley orchards reaches my nostrils; I turn round, and there, there in front of me, I see row upon row of richly-laden fruit trees, their leaves a brilliant copper in the scintillating rays of the ruddy autumn sun.
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