Slide to View Image: Opacity 0%

THE LIGHTHOUSEdesolate stump. She gazed at the immenseexpanse of the sea. The island had grown sosmall that it scarcely looked like a leaf any longer.It looked like the top of a rock which some bigwave would cover. Yet in its frailty were all thosepaths, those terraces, those bedrooms—all thoseinnumerable things. But as, just before sleep,things simplify themselves so that only one of allthe myriad details has power to assert itself, so,she felt, looking drowsily at the island, all thosepaths and terraces and bedrooms were fadingand disappearing, and nothing was left but apale blue censer swinging rhythmically this wayand that across her mind. It was a hanginggarden; it was a valley, full of birds, and flowers,and antelopes .... She was falling asleep.‘ Come now," said Mr. Ramsay, suddenlyshutting his book.

Come where? To what extraordinary adventure? She woke with a start. To land somewhere,to climb somewhere? Where was he leadingthem? For after his immense silence the wordsstartled them. But it was absurd. He washungry, he said. It was time for lunch. Besides,look, he said. There’s the Lighthouse. " We’realmost there.’

‘ He’s doing very well," said l\/Iacalister,praising James. “ He’s keeping her very steady."3I3