He lived for the moment in the past, and
the immutable future, which might contain the past
in the revolution of time. He smiled, and his face
fell into boyish, almost childish, contours. He
plucked another glossy leaf with his hard, veinous
old hands. His hands would not change to suit his
mood, but his limbs relaxed like those of a boy. He
stared at the brook gurgling past in brown ripples,
shot with dim prismatic lights, showing here clear
green water lines, here inky depths, and he thought
of the possibility of trout. He wished for fishing-
tackle.
Then suddenly out of a mass of green looked two
girls, with wide, startled eyes, and rounded mouths
of terror which gave vent to screams. There was a
scuttling, then silence. The man wondered why
the girls were so silly, why they ran. He did not
dream of the possibility of their terror of him. He
ate another wintergreen leaf, and thought of the
woman he had expected to marry when he was ar-
rested and imprisoned. She did not go back to his
childish memories. He had met her when first youth
had passed, and yet, somehow, the savor of the
wintergreen leaves brought her face before him. It
is strange how the excitement of one sense will some-
times act as stimulant for the awakening of another.
Now the sense of taste brought into full activity
that of sight.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253