"
He ceased. The sparks of sunset in crystal and silver had gone out,
and around the yacht the expanse of coast and Shallows seemed to await,
unmoved, the coming of utter darkness. The dinner was over a long time
ago and the patient stewards had been waiting, stoical in the downpour
of words like sentries under a shower.
Mrs. Travers rose nervously and going aft began to gaze at the coast.
Behind her the sun, sunk already, seemed to force through the mass of
waters the glow of an unextinguishable fire, and below her feet, on each
side of the yacht, the lustrous sea, as if reflecting the colour of her
eyes, was tinged a sombre violet hue.
D'Alcacer came up to her with quiet footsteps and for some time they
leaned side by side over the rail in silence. Then he said--"How quiet
it is!" and she seemed to perceive that the quietness of that evening
was more profound and more significant than ever before. Almost without
knowing it she murmured--"It's like a dream." Another long silence
ensued; the tranquillity of the universe had such an August ampleness
that the sounds remained on the lips as if checked by the fear of
profanation. The sky was limpid like a diamond, and under the last
gleams of sunset the night was spreading its veil over the earth. There
was something precious and soothing in the beautifully serene end of
that expiring day, of the day vibrating, glittering and ardent, and
dying now in infinite peace, without a stir, without a tremor, without a
sigh--in the certitude of resurrection.
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