TO THE LIGHTHOUsEauthority upon the carpet in the darkness, tracingits pattern, came now in the softer light of springmixed with moonlight gliding gently as if it laidits caress and lingered stealthily and looked andcame lovingly again. But in the very lull of thisloving caress, as the long stroke leant upon thebed, the rock was rent asunder; another fold ofthe shawl loosened; there it hung, and swayed.Through the short summer nights and the longsummer days, when the empty rooms seemed tomurmur with the echoes of the fields and the humof flies, the long streamer waved gently, swayedaimlessly; while the sun so striped and barred therooms and filled them with yellow haze that Mrs.McNab, when she broke in and lurched about,dusting, sweeping, looked like a tropical {ishoaring its way through sun—lanced waters.

But slumber and sleep though it might therecame later in the summer ominous sounds like themeasured blows of hammers dulled on felt, which,with their repeated shocks still further loosenedthe shawl and cracked the tea-cups. Now andagain some glass tinkled in the cupboard as if agiant voice had shrieked so loud in its agony that itumblers stood inside acupboard vibrated too.Then again silence fell; and then, night afternight, and sometimes in plain mid—day when theroses were bright and light turned on the wall its206

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