I remarked that I knew what that meant: he had lost his sense of
direction and had now all at once recovered it; such a thing had often
happened; I once had such an experience myself.
No, it was not that, he returned. He had not gone a dozen steps from the
moment that sense of confidence came to him, before he ran into a tree,
and feeling the trunk with his hands he recognised it as the old thorn
and knew where he was. In a couple of minutes he was on the road, and in
less than an hour, just about midnight, he was safe at home.
No more could I get out of him, at all events on that occasion; nor did
I ever succeed in extracting any further personal experience in spite of
his having let out that the thorn had been a good thorn to him, first
and last. I had, however, heard enough to satisfy me that I had at
length discovered the real secret of the tree's fascination. I recalled
other trees which had similarly affected me, and how, long years ago,
when a good deal of my time was spent on horseback, whenever I found
myself in a certain district I would go miles out of my way just to look
at a solitary old tree growing in a lonely place, and to sit for an hour
to refresh myself, body and soul, in its shade.
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