Madeleine’s window looked to the westward, and when she reached her room she found it open.  She was going to shut it, but the sea looked so peaceful down below in the clear moonlight, that she knelt down on the window-seat, and remained gazing at the lovely scene.  The moon had just reached the point at which it began to shine upon her window, and the shadow fell obliquely from the corner of the house, just beyond the hedge below, thus leaving a triangular space in darkness close underneath.  As Madeleine leant out she could see that Miss Cordsen’s window was also open.  She was just going to call to the old lady, with whom she was on the most friendly terms, but on consideration she thought it would be nicer to enjoy the delightful moonlight evening alone.

In that part of the garden the paths were to a great extent overgrown by the spreading trees.  The little pond, which had once been full of carp, and where even now some remained, only no one seemed to notice them, was fringed with tall rushes.  On the other side was the old summer-house, almost hidden among the shrubs, which were now never clipped.  The fact is, that part of the garden which was now most cared for was that which lay just in front of the house, and the part we are now speaking of was left pretty much to itself.  Along the inside of the garden-wall there stood a row of aspen trees, whose leaves were beginning to turn yellow and strew themselves on the paths.  Almost all the other trees still kept their foliage, although it was already September.  The mountain ash berries were beginning to redden, and shone in heavy clusters among the leaves, while here and there a leaf was to be seen turning from red to yellow.  The beech trees, which had been planted in the time of the young Consul’s grandfather, spread out their branches far and wide.  The shining dark green foliage hung in rich festoons nearly to the ground, and the long shoots were fringed with masses of tufted beech-nuts.

A mysterious silence reigned in the garden, while the moonlight came rippling noiselessly through the leaves and stealing down the trunks, forming patches of radiance on the grass, which were sharply defined by the edges of the dark shadows.  Goldfinches, bullfinches, a few thrushes, and other autumn birds, were sitting in the aspen trees.  They were mostly occupied in quietly pluming their feathers, and only some of the young birds, which had been hatched that spring, were hopping about from branch to branch.  The parents sat watching them, thinking, doubtless, how delightful it was to be young and innocent.  All nature seemed to have reached maturity, and the restless activity of spring was forgotten.  The birds were now calm and sober enough.  The cocks and hens sat peacefully side by side, no advances were made or encouraged.  Love-making, with all its follies, was at an end for that year.  Only the curious dragon-flies, with their four long wings and taper bodies, were still busy with their love-dances