TIME PASSESishing in the wind, made obeisance on the wall, andfor a moment darkened the pool in which light re-flected itself; or birds, flying, made a soft spotflutter slowly across the bedroom floor.

So loveliness reigned and stillness, and togethermade the shape of loveliness itself, a form fromwhich life had parted; solitary like a pool at eve-ning, far distant, seen from a train window, vanish-ing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening,is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen.Loveliness and stillness clasped hands in the bed-room, and among the shrouded jugs and sheetedchairs even the prying of the wind, and the softnose of the clammy sea airs, rubbing, snuffling, iter-ating, and reiterating their questions—"Will youfade? Will you perish?"—scarcely disturbed thepeace, the indifference, the air of pure integrity, asif the question they asked scarcely needed that theyshould answer: we remain.

Nothing it seemed could break that image, cor-rupt that innocence, or disturb the swaying mantleof silence which, week after week, in the emptyroom, wove into itself the falling cries of birds,ships hooting, the drone and hum of the fields, adog’s bark, a man’s shout, and folded them roundthe house in silence. Once only a board sprang onthe landing; once in the middle of the night with a195
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