The mystery of
it, the calm, the purity, closed round her like a dream. She gazed forth
into the great waste of rippling waters, her chin upon her hands.
Softly the yacht lifted and sank again to the gentle swell. The wild
waves of a few hours before had sunk away. It was a world at peace. But
there was no peace in the eyes that dwelt upon that wonderful night
scene. They were still with the stillness of despair.
The cold air blew round her and again she shivered as one chilled to the
heart, but she made no move to pick up the cloak that had fallen from her
shoulders. She only knelt there with her face to the sea, staring out in
dumb misery as one in whom all hope is quenched.
From somewhere on shore there came the sound of a clock striking the hour
in clear bell-like notes. One, two, three! And then silence, with the
murmur and splash of the rising tide spreading all around.
And then suddenly out of the utter quietness there came a sound--the
scuttle of scampering feet and an eager whining at the door behind
her. It stabbed like a needle through her lethargy. In a moment she
was on her feet.
The door burst in upon her as she opened it, and immediately she was
sprung upon and almost borne backwards by the wriggling, ecstatic figure
of Columbus.
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