THE LIGHTHOUSEMrs. Ramsay, without being aware of any unhappiness?She addressed old Mr. Carmichael again. What wasit then? What did it mean? Could things thrust theirhands up and grip one; could the blade cut; the fistgrasp? Was there no safety? No learning by heart ofthe ways of the world? No guide, no shelter, but allwas miracle, and leaping from the pinnacle of a towerinto the air? Could it be, even for elderly people,that this was life? — startling, unexpected, unknown?For one moment she felt that if they both got up,here, now on the lawn, and demanded an explanation,why was it so short, why was it so inexplicable, saidit with violence, as two fully equipped human beingsfrom whom nothing should be hid might speak, then,beauty would roll itself up; the space would fill; thoseempty flourishes would form into shape; if they shout-ed loud enough Mrs. Ramsay would return. ‘Mrs.Ramsay!’ she said aloud, ‘Mrs. Ramsay!’ The tearsran down her face.
6[Macalister’s boy took one of the fish and cut asquare out of its side to bait his hook with. The mu-tilated body (it was alive still) was thrown back intothe sea.]7‘Mrs. Ramsay!’ Lily cried, ‘Mrs. Ramsay!’ But no-thing happened. The pain increased. That anguishcould reduce one to such a pitch of imbecility, shethought! Anyhow the old man had not heard her. Heremained benignant, calm — if one chose to think it,sublime. Heaven be praised, no one had heard her20914 — L.
