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Updated: May 22, 2025
This, as it comes down into the body of the tree, gets closer, but never opaque; it is always transparent, with crumbling lights in it letting you through to the sky; then, out of this, come, heavier and heavier, the masses of illumined foliage, all dazzling and inextricable, save here and there a single leaf on the extremities; then, under these, you get deep passages of broken irregular gloom, passing into transparent, green-lighted, misty hollows; the twisted stems glancing through them in their pale and entangled infinity, and the shafted sunbeams, rained from above, running along the lustrous leaves for an instant; then lost, then caught again on some emerald bank or knotted root, to be sent up again with a faint reflex on the white under-sides of dim groups of drooping foliage, the shadows of the upper boughs running in grey network down the glossy stems, and resting in quiet chequers upon the glittering earth; but all penetrable and transparent, and, in proportion, inextricable and incomprehensible, except where across the labyrinth and the mystery of the dazzling light and dream-like shadow, falls, close to us, some solitary spray, some wreath of two or three motionless, large leaves, the type and embodying of all that in the rest we feel and imagine, but can never see.
"The lake, Vere? There isn't enough water-power over the dam to do any more than run a toy, is there?" He motioned me nearer to where he stood gazing down. "Notice what kind of water this is, Mr. Locke? Brown like forest water, sort of green-lighted because the bottom is like turf; neither mud nor sand, but a kind of under-water moss? You see?
It was evident that she had been on the lookout for him; a French-window in a creeper-covered veranda opened as he advanced, and gracious domesticity stood smiling in the green-lighted shade. She laid her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him. "Well, mon Prince," she said, "are you glad to see me again?" He took in all the pleasant and familiar appeal of her face before answering.
It had been happy and excited about them, wondering what they would be like. And quiet, looking on and listening, in the strange, green-lighted, green-dark room, crushed by the gentle, hostile voices. Would it always have to stoop and cringe before people, hushing its own voice, hiding its own gesture?
And the great Black Horse, with his inky mane and tail and his green-lighted eyes, ranged through all that region and added to his following from many bands till not less than a score of mares were in his 'bunch. Most were merely humble cow-ponies turned out to range, but the nine great mares were there, a striking group by themselves.
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