“The water looks like delicate cambric.”
“Why, so it does—draped round the stone; the rocks are sombre and solemn. You know it is said that some animals, wild and savage, like to find such places as this to nestle down and take their last long sleep.”
“I think I know why, too,” said Adele.
“Ah!”
“It is the music of the waterfall perhaps, and the movement too. The water is so much alive, it’s living water.”
“All life seeks life,” said the Doctor. “Some sort of companionship; even a hermit likes the life in his glen. It’s not uncheerful here, after all, is it—even if it seems gloomy?”
“No, listen; the waterfall is singing. I could catch the rhythm, and perhaps a cadence, in a short time if I were to try; it seems to say something.”
“What does it say, to you?”
“Oh, ’tis ‘the water of life repeating,’” said Adele, quoting one of her favorite lines. “I cannot tell you exactly what it says in words, but the music in it is hopeful; I love to listen to it.”
“So do I,” said the Doctor. “Would you like a drink?”