*AIRY FAIRY LILIAN.' 23
small belt of firs, evidently set apart, in the centre of
which stands 'The Cottage.'
It is considerably larger than one would expect from
its name. A long, low, straggling house, about three
miles from Chetwoode entrance-gate, going by the road,
but only one mile, taking a short cut through the Park.
A very pretty house—with a garden in front, carefully
hedged round, and another garden at the back—situ¬
ated in a lovely spot—perhaps the most enviable in all
Chetwoode—silent, dreamy, where one might, indeed,
live for ever,' the world forgetting, by the world forgot.'
In the garden all sorts of the sweetest old world
flowers are blooming—pinks and carnations, late lilies
and sweet Williams; the velvety heartsease, breathing
comfort to the poor love-that-lies-a-bleeding; the modest
forget-me-not, the fragrant mignonette (whose qualities,
they rudely say, surpass its charms), the starry jessa¬
mine, the frail woodbine ; while here and there from
every nook and corner shines out the fairest, loveliest,
queenliest flower of all—the rose„
Every bush is rich with them -, the air is heavy with
their odour Roses of every hue, of every size, from
the grand old cabbage to the smallest Scotch, are here.
One gazes round in silent admiration, until the great
love of them swells within the heart and a desire for
possession arises, when, growing murderous, one wishes,
like Nero, they had but one neck, that they might all
be gathered at a blowo
Upon the house only snow-white roses grow In great
masses they uprear their heads, peeping curiously in at
the windows, trailing lovingly round the porches, nest¬
ling under the eaves, drooping coquettishly at the
angles. To-day a raindrop has fallen into each scented
heart, has lingered there all the morning, and is still
loth to leave. Above the flowers the birds hover twit¬
tering ; beneath them the ground is as a snowy carpet
from their fallen petals. Poor petals! How sad it is
that they must fall! Yet, even in death, how sweet!