The
sylvan bathroom was indeed a charming place. Great rocks, all smooth
and brown with velvet moss, curved gently down to form a basin into
which fell the water from the tiny stream whose musical flowing had
called to him through his window. Around, and somewhat back beneath
tall sentinel trees, crept the bushes and bracken of the mountain;
but, above, the foliage opened and the sun shone in, turning the
brown-green water of the pool to gold. With a sigh of pure delight
the laughter-weary professor stepped into its cool brightness--and
with a gasp of something very different, stepped quickly out again.
But, quick as he was, the liquid ice of that green-gold pool was
quicker. It ran through his tortured nerve like mounting fire--"Oh--
oh--damn!" said the professor heartily.
The sweat stood out on his forehead before he had rubbed and warmed
the outraged limb into some semblance of quietude again. The pool
seemed no longer lovely. Very gingerly he completed such ablutions
as were strictly necessary and then, very cold, very stiff and very,
very empty he turned back toward the house.
This time, instead of passing through the small vegetable garden
behind the kitchen, he skirted the clearing, coming out into the
wide, open space in front of the cottage. On one side of him, and
behind, spread the mountain woods but before him and to the right
the larger trees were down. There was a vista--for the first time
since he had sat upon a keg in the fog he forgot him-self and his
foolishness, his hunger, his aching nerves, his smarting pride,
everything! The beauty before him filled his heart and mind, leaving
not a cranny anywhere for lesser things.
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