The leaves over Hintock grew denser in their substance, and the
woodland seemed to change from an open filigree to a solid opaque body
of infinitely larger shape and importance. The boughs cast green
shades, which hurt the complexion of the girls who walked there; and a
fringe of them which overhung Mr. Melbury's garden dripped on his
seed-plots when it rained, pitting their surface all over as with
pock-marks, till Melbury declared that gardens in such a place were no
good at all. The two trees that had creaked all the winter left off
creaking, the whir of the night-jar, however, forming a very
satisfactory continuation of uncanny music from that quarter. Except
at mid-day the sun was not seen complete by the Hintock people, but
rather in the form of numerous little stars staring through the leaves.

Such an appearance it had on Midsummer Eve of this year, and as the
hour grew later, and nine o'clock drew on, the irradiation of the
daytime became broken up by weird shadows and ghostly nooks of
indistinctness. Imagination could trace upon the trunks and boughs
strange faces and figures shaped by the dying lights; the surfaces of
the holly-leaves would here and there shine like peeping eyes, while
such fragments of the sky as were visible between the trunks assumed
the aspect of sheeted forms and cloven tongues. This was before the
moonrise. Later on, when that planet was getting command of the upper
heaven, and consequently shining with an unbroken face into such open
glades as there were in the neighborhood of the hamlet, it became
apparent that the margin of the wood which approached the
timber-merchant's premises was not to be left to the customary
stillness of that reposeful time.