the sealed jar, stole out through the first-classe
door, into the berceau and thence into the "allee defendue."

Methusaleh, the pear-tree, stood at the further end of this walk, near
my seat: he rose up, dim and gray, above the lower shrubs round him.
Now Methusaleh, though so very old, was of sound timber still; only
there was a hole, or rather a deep hollow, near his root. I knew there
was such a hollow, hidden partly by ivy and creepers growing thick
round; and there I meditated hiding my treasure. But I was not only
going to hide a treasure--I meant also to bury a grief. That grief over
which I had lately been weeping, as I wrapped it in its winding-sheet,
must be interred.

Well, I cleared away the ivy, and found the hole; it was large enough
to receive the jar, and I thrust it deep in. In a tool-shed at the
bottom of the garden, lay the relics of building-materials, left by
masons lately employed to repair a part of the premises. I fetched
thence a slate and some mortar, put the slate on the hollow, secured it
with cement, covered the hole with black mould, and, finally, replaced
the ivy. This done, I rested, leaning against the tree; lingering, like
any other mourner, beside a newly-sodded grave.

The air of the night was very still, but dim with a peculiar mist,
which changed the moonlight into a luminous haze. In this air, or this
mist, there was some quality--electrical, perhaps--which acted in
strange sort upon me. I felt then as I had felt a year ago in
England--on a night when the aurora borealis was streaming and sweeping
round heaven, when, belated in lonely fields, I had paused to watch
that mustering of an army with banners--that quivering of serried
lances--that swift ascent of messengers from below the north star to
the dark, high keystone of heaven's arch. I felt, not happy, far
otherwise, but strong with reinforced strength.

If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed. I
pondered now how to break up my winter-quarters--to leave an encampment
where food and forage failed. Perhaps, to effect this change, another
pitched battle must be fought with fortune; if so, I had a mind to the
encounter: too poor to lose, God might destine me to gain. But what
road was open?--what plan available?

On this question I was still pausing, when the moon, so dim hitherto,
seemed to shine out somewhat brighter: a ray gleamed even white before
me, and a shadow became distinct and marked. I