Nothing in the least unusual was remotely shadowed forth.
But he resolved that he would come back early in the morning.
The Weir ran through his broken sleep, all night, and he was back
again at sunrise. It was a bright frosty morning. The whole
composition before him, when he stood where he had stood last
night, was clearly discernible in its minutest details. He had
surveyed it closely for some minutes, and was about to withdraw his
eyes, when they were attracted keenly to one spot.
He turned his back upon the Weir, and looked far away at the sky,
and at the earth, and then looked again at that one spot. It
caught his sight again immediately, and he concentrated his vision
upon it. He could not lose it now, though it was but such a speck
in the landscape. It fascinated his sight. His hands began
plucking off his coat. For it struck him that at that spot - a
corner of the Weir - something glistened, which did not move and
come over with the glistening water-drops, but remained stationary.
He assured himself of this, he threw off his clothes, he plunged
into the icy water, and swam for the spot. Climbing the timbers,
he took from them, caught among their interstices by its chain, a
gold watch, bearing engraved upon its back E. D.
He brought the watch to the bank, swam to the Weir again, climbed
it, and dived off. He knew every hole and corner of all the
depths, and dived and dived and dived, until he could bear the cold
no more.
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