He loved his childhood, talked
on of it with an artless zeal, his eyes a nest of singing-birds. How
contrite he was for spirit lost, and daring withheld, and hope
discomfited! How simple and urbane concerning his present lowly
demands on life, on love, and on futurity! All this, too, with such
packed winks and mirth and mourning, that I truly said good-night for
the second time to him with a rather melancholy warmth, since
to-morrow ... who can face unmoved that viewless sphinx? Moreover, the
sea is wide, has fishes in plenty, but never too many coraled grottoes
once poor mariners.
XV
_'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day._
--JOHN WEBSTER.
On the stroke of two next morning the doctor conducted me down to the
creek in the river-bank where he kept his boat. There was little light
but of the stars in the sky; nothing stirring. She floated dim and
monstrous on the softly-running water, a navy in germ, and could have
sat without danger thirty men like me. We stood on the bank, side by
side, eyeing her vacancy. And (I can answer for myself) night-thoughts
rose up in us at sight of her.
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