“I can’t lose much on ten acres.”
“Ah!” He seemed to indicate that ten acres was not enough; but as a matter of fact S. J.-B. reaped now all the advantage of that love of detail which had so often proved a snare. “Windydene” had been unoccupied and more or less neglected for some time, so there was abundant scope for an enterprising “Squire.” And the situation was as choice as even the county of Sussex can provide. From the terrace one looked right across to the South Downs, and even Fairlight was supposed to be visible on a clear day. The garden had been ideally planned on ground that fell away rather steeply to the south. It had spacious lawns cunningly planted, some of the trees being of real value and beauty.
Beyond the lawns were shady paths and all sort of unexpected openings and surprises; and beyond these again were the meadows hedged with blackberries, and carpeted in spring with cowslip and ladies’ smock. From the meadows one passed through to the woods, and so to the whole billowy stretch of the Weald, with its varied foliage, its blue lights and chasing shadows, its lakes of white mist in the still summer mornings.
S. J.-B. had seen the place first in November. She actually took possession in May, when the red chestnuts were in bloom and the woods full of bluebells.
“‘The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places’,” she said, “‘I have a goodly heritage’;” and the words were constantly on her lips till the end. Kipling’s “Sussex by the Sea” might have been written for her, so gratefully did she take possession of it.
“Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!”
Her first care was to institute a fruit garden, building a south wall and planting vines, figs, peaches, nectarines and apricots. In the course of a few years her strawberries in particular had acquired quite a reputation.