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Updated: June 17, 2025
All in nature was glad, exhilarating, and yet serene; a genial freshness breathed through the soft air; not a cloud was to be seen in the smiling azure; even the old dark yews seemed happy in their everlasting verdure. The bell ceased, and then even the crowd grew silent; and not a sound was heard in that solemn spot to whose demesnes are consecrated alike the Birth, the Marriage, and the Death.
"Love you? You?" he said, inquiringly, as he looked at her with an unsteady, imbecile gaze as if to ask who she was that he should love her. "Yes," she said. "I am Daisy. Don't you remember the little girl who used to come to you under the yews?" "Yes," and his lip trembled a little. "The girl who gave herself and her bonnet to shield me from the flies and sun.
He could see the towers of three village churches, and the blurred greys and browns of the houses clustering round them some near, some far. Stone farm-buildings, their white-washed gables glowing under the level sun, caught his eye, one after the other now hidden in wood, now standing out upon the fields or the moorland, with one sycamore or a group of yews to shelter them.
And taking Adrian's arm, he led the way, amid the summer throng of delicate scents and sounds, under the opulent old trees, over the gold-green velvet of the turf, on which leaves and branches were stencilled by the sun, as in an elaborate design for lace, towards a house that was rather famous in the neighbourhood I was on the point of saying for its beauty: but are things ever famous in English neighbourhoods for their mere beauty? for its quaintness, and in some measure too, perhaps, for its history: Craford Old Manor, a red-brick Tudor house, low, and, in the rectangular style of such houses, rambling; with a paved inner court, and countless tall chimneys, like minarets; with a secret chapel and a priests' "hiding-hole," for the Crafords were one of those old Catholic families whose boast it is that they "have never lost the Faith"; with a walled formal garden, and a terrace, and a sun-dial; with close-cropped bordures of box, and yews clipped to fantastic patterns: the house so placed withal, that, while its north front faced the park, its south front, ivy-covered, looked over a bright lawn and bright parterres of flowers, down upon the long green levels of Rowland Marshes, and away to the blue sea beyond, the blue sea, the white cliffs, the yellow sands.
This fact alone forbade further attention, though during the time he stayed he remained vaguely conscious of his neighbour, a middle- aged man apparently, in mourning, whose bowed back, among the clustered monuments and mortuary yews, was constantly presented.
At Carton the Queen was received by the Duke and Duchess and their eldest son, the Marquis of Kildare, with his young wife, Lady Caroline Leveson-Gower, one of the daughters of the Duchess of Sutherland. All the company walked, to the music of two bands, in the pretty quaint garden with its rows of Irish yews.
That was Varner, the mason he called me." He turned from the lad to glance at the girl, who was peeping curiously over the gate into the yews and cypresses. "Do you think your father's at the Library just now?" he asked. "Shall I find him there?" "I should think he is," answered Betty Campany. "He generally goes down about this time." She turned and pulled Dick Bewery's sleeve.
And you, Warner," turning to Denzil, who had not spoken since the opening of the door, "I know you'll keep the secret." "Yes. I will keep your secret," Denzil answered, cold as ice; and said no word more. They walked slowly round the house by the terrace, where the clipped yews stood out like obelisks against the bleak bright sky.
Above were the arching boughs of giant trees; below and all about, a wealth of old-fashioned bloom. The sunlight drifted through shadowing fringe-trees, mimosas, magnolias, and oaks. Hoary old age marked the garden in the breadth of the box, in the height of the slow-growing yews, and in the denseness of the ivy that swathed the great-girthed trees.
From parterre and balustrade, and from the clipt yews of the ornamental garden, fairy lamps burned forth and dwindled away into dim infinity, as the long lines of soft light gradually lost themselves in the forest. It was a grand affair and idyllic in its unworldliness ... Catherine bequeathed Chenonceaux to the wife of Henry III., Louise de Vaudémont, who died here in 1601.
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