The words seemed written down in dew, but
the dew crystallised into fairy patterns that instantly flew about the
world upon their mission of deliverance. In this ancient Network of
the Stars the universe lay fluttering; and they lay with it, all
prisoners in Fairyland.
For the key of it all was sympathy, and the' delicate soul of it was
tender human love. Bourcelles, in this magic tale, was the starting-
point whence the Starlight Expresses flashed into all the world, even
unto unvisited, forgotten corners that had known no service hitherto.
It was so adaptable and searching, and knew such tiny, secret ways of
entrance. The thought was so penetrating, true, and simple. Even old
Mother Plume would wake to the recovery of some hitherto forgotten
fragrance in her daily life... just as those Northern forests would
wake to find new wild-flowers. For all fairytales issue first from the
primeval forest, thence undergoing their protean transformation; and
in similar fashion this story, so slight but so tremendous, issued
from the forest of one man's underthinking--one deep, pure mind,
wumbled badly as far as external things were concerned, yet realising
that Bourcelles contained the Universe, and that he, in turn contained
Bourcelles. Another, it is true, had shown it to him, though all
unwittingly, and had cleaned in his atmosphere the channels for the
entrance of the glorious pattern.
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