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349(15th Sept)9."He must have reached it" said Lily Briscoe, feeling extraordinarily tired.But she felt assuaged of herwas relieved, assuaged.]& her for thelighthouseseemed, owing to the haze, very far away, almost invisible - it hadhad becomeinblue& the phy effort of & it needed a great effort to imagine the& the effort of looking for it seemed to increase at the same time she wasatmaking an enormousthinking of himlanding seemed to melt in to each other.But she was assuaged, she was relieved;she had Whatever she hadbeen wishing to give him, that sympathy, which had she had given, at last."He has landed" she said to herself, [& sank back, as if it weresheneedstretch her mind no further] after himinto a quiet the rest whichsucceeds an effort;?together tostretch hereyes tostretchher mind[? [?][?]It was finished, she felt.It was finished.Surging up, like a from weeds, reeds & mud, like a river God, he seemed sofrom weeds & mudshaggy, so huge, & so benevolent, old Mr. Carmichael stood by her side.beside her.

"They will have landed" he said.The image stuck to him. H Like an old Pagan god, shaggy with the weedsof the in his hair, & his handgrasping a staff (but it was only his aFrench novel) he rose on the edge of the lawn, sw swaying alittle in his bulk & his benevolence, & & said,raising his hand over his eyes,

They will have landed.He was enormously tolerant of human weakness, she felt, &He spread his hand over all theirweaknessweaknesses infirmities&sufferings. He had let knowledgeooze into him, drop by drop,till he was steeped in itThere he stood, she felt,crowning the occasion without so that as if he hadwith hissilence, as if she had seen himlet fall some from his great heighta b wreath of violets, of poppies,which fell &fluttered gently tothe earth.He

Now, she thought, as the he paused there,sheturningedto her canvas, with