“It is no exaggeration to say, that, so greatly do I value and treasure afterwards certain aspects of beauty, I would quite willingly go through all the suffering again for the sake of the lovely impressions here last night and this morning. The beauty and charm of this house and its forest-environment, the young moon and the night-jar at dusk (and then to soothe and sleepify me still more, the soft, sweet, old-fashioned melodies of Haydn from 9 to 9.30)—one or two lovely peacocks trailing about in front—the swallows at corner of my great verandah—a thousandfold peace and beauty, and the goodness of these dear friends, have not only been, and are, a living continuous joy, but have been like the Heralds of Spring to the return of gladness and energy into my mind. Today I realise that too, for one thing, ‘Fiona’ has come back from afar off. It is peace and greenness she loves—not the physical and psychical perturbation and demoralisation of towns.
Yes, we’ll make ‘green homes’ for ourselves now. No more long needless months in London....
Despite his serenity of mind, London as usual wrought him harm, and as he explained to Dr. Goodchild:
30th July.
... August is always a ‘dark’ month for me—and not as a rule, I fancy, a good one: at any rate an obscure and perhaps perilous one. But this time I fancy it is on other lines. I believe strong motives and influences are to be at work in it perhaps furtively only: but none the less potently and far reachingly. Between now and September-end (perhaps longer) many of the Dark Powers are going to make a great effort. We must all be on guard—for there will be individual as well as racial and general attack. But a Great Unloosening is at hand.
Yours ever,
W. S.
We therefore went to Scotland to say goodbye to his mother and sisters, and to see one or two friends, among others, Miss Mary Wilson, the pastellist, at Bantaskine, her home on the site of the battle of Falkirk; Mr. D. Y. Cameron, with whom my husband planned an unfulfilled wander among the Western Isles; and Mr. David Erskine of Linlathen.
While in the North he wrote to Mr. John Maesfield: