THE LIGHTHOUSEstaring at the Lighthouse, powerless to move, power-less to flick off these grains of misery which settledon his mind one after another. A rope seemed to bindhim there, and his father had knotted it and hecould only escape by taking a knife and plungingit . . . . But at that moment the sail swung slowlyround, filled slowly out, the boat seemed to shakeherself, and then to move off half conscious in hersleep, and then she woke and shot through thewaves. The relief was extraordinary. They allseemed to fall away from each other again and to beat their ease and the fishing-lines slanted taut acrossthe side of the boat. But his father did not rousehimself. He only raised his right hand mysteriouslyhigh in the air, and let it fall upon his knee again asif he were conducting some secret symphony.IX

(The sea without a stain on it, thought Lily Bris-coe, still standing and looking out over the bay. Thesea stretched like silk across the bay. Distance hadan extraordinary power; they had been swallowedup in it, she felt, they were gone for ever, they hadbecome part of the nature of things. It was so calm;it was so quiet. The steamer itself had vanished, but279
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