MYSTERY AND CONFIDENCE, Volume I

CHAP. I.

Due westward, fronting to the green,
A rural portico was seen,
Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine
The ivy and Idean vine;
The clematis, the favor'd flow'r,
Which boasts the name of virgin's bow'r.

LADY OF THE LAKE.


At the foot of one of the most romantic mountains in North Wales, about
a mile from the coast of Carnarvonshire, stands the little village of
Llanwyllan: there, amongst trees which seemed coeval with the dwelling,
was a very large farm-house, the residence of Farmer Powis. Its high
chimneys, and neatly white-washed walls, rendered it a pleasing object
to those who travelled on the high-road, about a mile off, which led to
the next market-town, if high-road that might be called which merely
served to facilitate the journies of the neighbouring farmers' wives to
market and back again, or those of the curate, who served the churches
in the immediate vicinity. The hand of native taste had removed a few
branches from the immense trees which shaded this rural dwelling, and by
that means afforded to the inhabitants a view of the road, the spire of
the village church, and two or three natural rills of water, which,
falling from the adjacent hills, increased the beauty of the scene. At
this dwelling a traveller arrived on the evening of a day which had been
intensely hot, in the summer of 18--: the dust which covered his shoes,
and almost concealed the colour of his coat, declared him a pedestrian;
probably, therefore, of inferior rank; yet, under the shade which
fatigue had thrown over his features, might be discerned a fine and
interesting countenance; and when at the door of the farm-house, where
Powis sat inhaling the mixed fumes of his evening pipe, and the
fragrance of a fine honeysuckle which entwined around the porch, he
inquired the nearest way to----, the tones of his voice, and the
fineness of his accent, would, to a practised ear, have proclaimed a man
who had mixed with the higher orders of society: to Powis, however, they
conveyed no idea but that the traveller was weary and spoke with
civility; and either would have demanded from him civility, nay,
kindness in return: he rose therefore from his seat, and pushing aside
his little table, made room for the stranger, and requested him to be
seated. The stranger thankfully complied, and taking off his hat, wiped
the dust from his face, and shewed a fine forehead and eyes, whose
brilliant rays seemed more obscured by sorrow than by time, though he
appeared to be about five-and-thirty. While the farmer went into the
house to order some refreshment for his weary guest, the stranger turned
his eyes, and saw with surprise that every thing about him bore the
marks of taste; of taste not indeed highly refined, but simple, natural,
and delicate: every tree round the spot on which he sat was intertwined
with woodbines, clematis, and the wild hop; and the long shoots of all
were carried from tree to tree, forming festoons of exquisite grace and
beauty. At the foot of each tree a space had been cleared and filled
with fragrant plants, whose culture requires little trouble.
Mignionette, roses, pinks, and carnations, perfumed the air, while the
too powerful seringa was only suffered to rise at a considerable
distance, whence its odour came occasionally wafted by the evening
breeze, and (if the expression may be allowed) harmonized well with the
softer scents in the immediate vicinity of the dwelling. A variety of
birds in the adjacent orchard and fields yet poured their mingled songs,
which, as the sun declined gradually, sunk into a softer strain, and
soon all was hushed into repose. In the meantime the table was spread
with a neat cloth, cold meat, brown bread, some fresh-gathered fruit,
cream, ale, and home-made wine; each excellent in its kind.