To THE LIGHTHOUSEstruck into stability. Life stand still here,Mrs. Ramsay said. " Mrs. Ramsay! Mrs.Ramsay! " she repeated. She owed this revela—tion to her.

All was silence. Nobody seemed yet to bestirring in the house. She looked at it theresleeping in the early sunlight with its windowsgreen and blue with the reflected leaves. Thefaint thought she was thinking of Mrs. Ramsayseemed in consonance with this quiet house; thissmoke; this fine early morning air. Faint andunreal, it was amazingly pure and exciting. Shehoped nobody would open the window or comeout of the house, but that she might be leftalone to go on_thinking, to go on painting. Sheturned to her canvas. But impelled by somecuriosity, driven by the discomfort of the sympathywhich she held undischarged, she walked a paceor so to the end`of the lawn to see whether, downthere on the beach, she could see that littlecompany setting sail. Down there among the littleboats which floated, some with their sails furled,some slowly, for it was very calm, moving away,there was one rather apart from the others. Thesail was even now being hoisted. She decided thatthere in that very distant and entirely silent littleboat Mr. Ramsay was sitting with Cam and james.Now they had got the sail up; now after a little2 50