“I’m sorry for that—I mean I am sorry he will not tell you about this young couple, for I should like to know if they will marry. Indeed, you must find out somehow, for everyone who reads your book will be curious on this subject.”
“What, as to whether ploughman Joe will marry Polly the housemaid. Had he been the eldest son of the Squire now, and she the Vicar’s daughter, instead of the maid—”
“It would not have been a whit more interesting, for love is love, and human nature the same in high and
low degree. But, perhaps, this old tree doesn’t know anything about future events?”
“He knows from his long experience of the past what will happen if certain conditions are given; he knows, for instance, the secret whispers, and the silent tokens exchanged beneath his boughs, and from them he knows what will assuredly result if things take their ordinary course.”
“So does anyone, prophet or no prophet.”
“But his process of reasoning, based upon the experience of a thousand years, is unerring; he saw William the Conqueror, and listened to a council of war held under his branches; he knew what would happen if William’s projects were successful: whether they would be successful was not within his knowledge. He was intimately acquainted with Herne’s Oak at Windsor, and they frequently visited.”
“Visited! how was that possible?”
“Quite possible; trees visit one another just the same as human beings—they hold intercourse by means of the wind. For instance, when the wind blows from the north-east, Southwood Oak visits at Windsor Park, and when the wind is in the opposite direction a return visit is paid. There isn’t a tree of any position in England but the Old Oak of Southwood knows. He is in himself the History of England, only he is unlike all other histories, for he speaks the truth.”
“He must have witnessed many love scenes!”