Chapter 18

⁠​​​‌​​​​​​​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌⁠A more beautiful October morning than that of the next day never beamed into the Welland valleys. The yearly dissolution of leafage was setting in apace. The foliage of the park trees rapidly resolved itself into the multitude of complexions which mark the subtle grades of decay, reflecting wet lights of such innumerable hues that it was a wonder to think their beauties only a repetition of scenes