It's a pity, though! Master Dick, he throws a fine fly, but he
gets flurried with a big fish, being young. And this one is a topper.'
"With that he gave me good-night, and I went to bed, but not to sleep. I
was fevered with happiness; the past and future reeled before my wakeful
vision. I heard every clock strike; the sounds of morning were astir,
and still I could not sleep. The ceremony, for reasons connected with
our long journey to my father's place in Hampshire, was to be early--half-
past ten was the hour. I looked at my watch; it was seven of the clock,
and then I looked out of the window: it was a fine, soft grey morning,
with a south wind tossing the yellowing boughs. I got up, dressed in a
hasty way, and thought I would just take a look at the river. It was,
indeed, in glorious order, lapping over the top of the sharp stone which
we regarded as a measure of the due size of water.
"The morning was young, sleep was out of the question; I could not settle
my mind to read. Why should I not take a farewell cast, alone, of
course? I always disliked the attendance of a gillie. I took my salmon
rod out of its case, rigged it up, and started for the stream, which
flowed within a couple of hundred yards of my quarters. There it raced
under the ash tree, a pale delicate brown, perhaps a little thing too
coloured.
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