Long ago a great number of young beeches had been planted so thickly that as they grew they shot up straight and branchless in their struggle for the light.

Not till they had reached a considerable altitude had they been thinned; and then the thinning had been so effected that, as the high branches began to shoot out in the freer space, they met in time and interlaced so closely that they made in many places a perfect screen of leafy shade.

Here and there were rifts or openings through which the light passed; under such places the grass was fine and green, or the wild hyacinths in due season tinged the earth with blue.

Through the grove some wide alleys had been left: great broad walks where the soft grass grew short and fine, and to whose edges came a drooping of branches and an upspringing of undergrowth of laurel and rhododendron.

At the far ends of these walks were little pavilions of marble built in the classic style which ruled for garden use two hundred years ago.