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Chapter 8

           Thatwasthesourceofhereverlastingattractionforhim,perhaps;shewasapersontowhomonecouldsaywhatcameintoone’shead.Butallthetimehethoughtofher,hewasconsciousofhisfatherfollowinghisthought,surveyingit,makingitshiverandfalter.Atlastheceasedtothink.

           Therehesatwithhishandonthetillerinthesun,staringattheLighthouse,powerlesstomove,powerlesstoflickoffthesegrainsofmiserywhichsettledonhismindoneafteranother.Aropeseemedtobindhimthere,andhisfatherhadknotteditandhecouldonlyescapebytakingaknifeandplungingit...Butatthatmomentthesailswungslowlyround,filledslowlyout,theboatseemedtoshakeherself,andthentomoveoffhalfconsciousinhersleep,andthenshewokeandshotthroughthewaves.Thereliefwasextraordinary.Theyallseemedtofallawayfromeachotheragainandtobeattheirease,andthefishing-linesslantedtautacrossthesideoftheboat.Buthisfatherdidnotrousehimself.Heonlyraisedhisrighthandmysteriouslyhighintheair,andletitfalluponhiskneeagainasifhewereconductingsomesecretsymphony.

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