He turned round, and for a while stood gazing
wistfully at the scene he had left behind. The hum of the town's life,
the sudden shoutings of the children at their play, even, as he
fancied, the eternal pathos of the ocean's murmuring, were borne
upwards to him on the evening breeze. Far off, among the trees,
twinkled a solitary light. A great sob shook his frame suddenly.
There, in the warm glow of the lamp, whose rays reached him like those
of some infinitely distant star, sat the woman whom he loved, who might
have been his, who was-- Ah me! He set his teeth. His lips,
bloodless now as the very lips of death, were pressed tight together.
He turned again, and, still walking bravely, descended the hill into
the gloom.
"'So life deals with us. To one is given, and he hath abundance. From
another is taken away even that which he hath. Yet, who knows? It was
towards the east he travelled. The sun had set indeed; but it would
rise again. And it is always in the east that suns rise.'"
"Thanks, J. J.," said the Major sleepily. "It's awfully fine. If you
wouldn't mind putting it on the dressing-table under my brush, it will
be quite safe till morning.
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