The morning following Bressant's arrival was clear and cool. Professor
Valeyon looked out of the window of his bedroom, which was at the
garden-end of the house, and opposite Cornelia's, and saw the cold,
white mists lying in the valley, and the rough hills, like islands,
lifting their dark shoulders above it.
As he looked, the sun, having climbed a few inches above the eastern
uplands, let a bright glance fall right upon the open spot at the summit
of the professor's favorite hill. A few minutes afterward he poured a
golden flood into the valley, carrying consternation to the delaying
vapors, insomuch that they straightway put themselves into commotion
preparatory to departure. No spare time was allowed them; some were
bundled off into the dark gullies and passes of the hills; others betook
themselves hastily to that side of the valley which was yet in shadow,
to sleep a few moments beyond the legitimate time; others still, finding
escape impossible, rose heavenward like a mighty incense, and were by
the sun converted into something wellnigh as glorious as himself.
"Good simile for a sermon, that! turning persecution into a means of
glorification!" thought the professor, recurring to the days of his
pastorship.
As may be inferred, the old gentleman was in the habit of getting up
early; a praiseworthy practice, but one so universal with elderly people
as to suggest a doubt of its being entirely a voluntary virtue. Be that
as it may, the professor was up, and proceeded to set his blood in
motion over a wash-bowl. His toilet was not so intricate and serious a
matter as it might have been forty years or so previous, but was
nevertheless a duty most scrupulously and conscientiously performed,
from June to December, and round again. The last thing attended to
before putting on his coat was always carefully to brush and dispose his
hair. Until within two or three years, he had been able to keep up
appearances by coaxing a gray rift across the top of the bald place; but
it had grown month by month thinner and grayer, and more difficult to
keep in position, until at last he had bravely told himself it was a
vanity and a delusion, and had consigned it to obscurity and oblivion
among the rusty side-locks which still sturdily surrounded the naked and
inaccessible summit. Since that time he had occasionally allowed his
thoughts to revert to it regretfully, though not bitterly nor
rebelliously.
But, on this particular morning, he stood, brush in hand, before his
looking-glass with an expression upon his elderly features at once
undecided, wistful, and shame-faced; detached, after a short search, a
few frosty spears from the assortment at the left side of his head;
scrutinized them anxiously for a moment, and then, by the aid of a
little water, and cautious brushing and pulling, succeeded in spatting
them down into their long-abandoned place.