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His immense amount of useless work was not hanging about his
neck like a millstone. Something had cut that away. He was free from it
all. He could feel within himself that his approach to his problem was
better than it had been before. Perhaps he had made the mistake of the
others of looking at it as something fearfully complex, something it
would be the hardest thing in all the world for any man to do. It all
looked more simple now. It was as if muscles strained to the point of
tenseness had relaxed, and in an easy and natural way he foresaw victory
as a logical part of his work.
He was happy to-night, light-hearted. The windows of the laboratory were
open to the soft air of that glorious day of early spring, and his spirit
was open too, open to the soul of the world, taking unto itself the sweet
and simple spirit of the men who have done the greatest things. From his
window he could see one of the tennis courts. Some of the students were
playing. "Good!" he exclaimed enthusiastically to himself, as he watched
a return that had looked impossible.


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