Barnes hesitated. This hill-top now seemed like a strategic point. To go meant leaving Langdon in possession. But this was only a concrete example of the whole problem which he had worked out earlier in the night. If he had entered this household upon the same plane upon which Langdon had entered it, then he would have a right to remain on the hill-top and fight for his pictures and all those meant. But he hadn’t. That was the point. When he left Aunt Philomela that first night and went upstairs, he had given a silent pledge of honor. To some men this might seem a nice point, open at least to argument. But Barnes all his life had lived by nice points. That was his glory as an artist. Without another word, he trudged back down the hill.
The house was still asleep. It looked like a very young girl asleep. It took the morning light drowsily and peacefully. Beneath the windows, the flowers fresh from their dew bath met the eye of the sky proudly and unashamed. It was impossible for Barnes, in the face of these things, to brood. He couldn’t as yet endure the confines of his room, but he strode off down the damp road with good spirit. Then he turned off to the right and crossed the fields to the brook. Here in a clump of alders he undressed and threw himself into the stinging cold waters. As he bobbed up pink with every vein responding, he shook the water from his eyes and struck across to the other bank. So for ten minutes he swam in and out over the clean sands and water-cress like the king trout himself. And when he came out it was with his brain clear and his heart beating sturdily.
Barnes found Mr. Van Patten awake and waiting for him when he came back to the house. The old gentleman measured time by the twittering of the birds in the morning, and their sleepy chirp at night. His voice was stronger and the grip of his hand on Barnes’ arm firmer. But more than this Barnes noticed that which at first frightened him—an awakening in the aged face, a new expression about the eyes in place of the blank, fixed stare.
“Are the curtains raised?” demanded Mr. Van Patten.
“Yes,” answered Barnes, “as high as usual.”
“Put them way up,” insisted Mr. Van Patten. “I want all the light there is.”
Barnes snapped them to the top. The room became flooded with the morning sunshine. When he turned, the old gentleman was upon his elbow straining towards them.
“What is it?” Barnes asked in some alarm.
Mr. Van Patten fell back again with almost a smile about his lips.
“Nothing,” he answered. “Sit over here by my side.”