All about us, as we walked, were mute evidences of the fury of
last night's storm: trees had been uprooted, and great branches
torn from others as if by the hands of angry giants; and the
brook was a raging torrent. Down here, in the Hollow, the
destruction had been less, but in the woods, above, the giants
had worked their will, and many an empty gap showed where,
erstwhile, had stood a tall and stately tree.
"Trees be very like men," said the Ancient, nodding to one that
lay prone beside the path, "'ere to-day an' gone to-morrer,
Peter--gone to-morrer. The man in the Bible, 'im as was cured of
'is blindness by our blessed Lord, 'e said as men was like trees
walkin', but, to my mind, Peter, trees is much more like men
a-standin' still. Ye see, Peter, trees be such companionable
things; it's very seldom as you see a tree growin' all by itself,
an' when you do, if you look at it you can't 'elp but notice
'ow lonely it do look. Ay, its very leaves seem to 'ave a
down-'earted sort o' drop. I knowed three on 'em once--elm-trees
they was growin' all close together, so close that their branches
used to touch each other when the wind blew, jest as if they was
a-shakin' 'ands wi' one another, Peter. You could see as they
was uncommon fond of each other, wi' half an eye. Well; one day,
along comes a storm and blows one on 'em down--kills it dead,
Peter; an' a little while later, they cuts down another--Lord
knows why--an' theer was the last one, all alone an' solitary.
Now, I used to watch that theer tree--an' here's the cur'us
thing, Peter--day by day I see that tree a-droopin' an' droopin',
a-witherin' an' a-pinin' for them other two--brothers you might
say--till one day I come by, an' theer it were, Peter, a-standin'
up so big an' tall as ever--but dead! Ay, Peter, dead it were,
an' never put forth another leaf, an' never will, Peter--never.
An', if you was to ax me, I should say as it died because its
'eart were broke, Peter. Yes, trees is very like men, an' the
older you grow the more you'll see it."
I listened, It was thus we talked, or rather, the Ancient talked
and I listened, until we reached Sissinghurst. At the door of
the smithy we stopped.
"Peter," said the old man, staring very hard at a button on my
coat.
"Well, Ancient?"
"What about that theer--poor, old, rusty--stapil?"
"Why, it is still above the door, Ancient; you must have seen it
this morning."