low south-eastern sun. In the vale below, soft white flakes of mist
still hung over the water meadows, and barred the dark trunks of the
huge elms and poplars, whose fast-yellowing leaves came showering down
at the very rustle of the western breeze, spotting the grass below.
The river swirled along, glassy no more, but dingy grey with autumn
rains and rotten leaves. All beyond the garden told of autumn; bright
and peaceful, even in decay: but up the sunny slope of the garden
itself, and to the very window sill, summer still lingered. The beds
of red verbena and geranium were still brilliant, though choked with
fallen leaves of acacia and plane; the canary plant, still untouched
by frost, twined its delicate green leaves, and more delicate yellow
blossoms, through the crimson lacework of the Virginia-creeper; and
the great yellow noisette swung its long canes across the window,
filling all the air with fruity fragrance.

And the good Doctor, lifting his eyes from his microscope, looked out
upon it all with a quiet satisfaction, and though his lips did not
move, his eyes seemed to be thanking God for it all; and thanking Him,
too, perhaps, that he was still permitted to gaze upon that fair world
outside. For as he gazed, he started, as if with sudden pain, and
passed his hand across his eyes, with something like a sigh, and then
looked at the microscope no more, but sat, seemingly absorbed in
thought, while upon his delicate toil-worn features, and high, bland,
unwrinkled forehead, and the few soft grey locks which not time--for
he was scarcely fifty-five--but long labour of brain, had spared to
him, there lay a hopeful calm, as of a man who had nigh done his work,
and felt that he had not altogether done it ill;--an autumnal calm,
resigned, yet full of cheerfulness, which harmonised fitly with the
quiet beauty of the decaying landscape before him.