TO THE LIGHTHOUSE

‘Where are they now?’ Lily thought, looking outto sea. Where was he, that very old man who hadgone past her silently, holding a brown paper parcel un-der his arm? The boat was in the middle of the bay.8

They don’t feel a thing there, Cam thought, lookingat the shore, which, rising and falling, became steadilymore distant and more distant and more peaceful. Herhand cut a trail in the sea, as her mind made thegreen swirls and streaks into patterns and, numbedand shrouded, wandered in imagination in that un-derworld of waters where the pearls stuck in clustersto white sprays, where in the green light a changecame over one’s entire mind and one’s body shonehalf transparent enveloped in a green cloak.

Then the eddy slackened round her hand. Therush of the water ceased; the world became full oflittle creaking and squeaking sounds. One heard thewaves breaking and flapping against the side of theboat as if they were anchored in harbour. Everythingbecame very close to one. For the sail, upon whichJames had his eyes fixed until it had become to himlike a person whom he knew, sagged entirely; therethey came to a stop, flapping about waiting for abreeze, in the hot sun, miles from shore, miles from theLighthouse. Everything in the whole world seemedto stand still. The Lighthouse became immovable,and the line of the distant shore became fixed. Thesun grew hotter and everybody seemed to come veryclose together and to feel each other’s presence, whichthey had almost forgotten. Macalister’s fishing line212

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