Perhaps it was
because it seemed a reaching out to the unknown. After she had known
she was to go, she would awaken in the night and hear the far-off
roll of the Pacific, and would lie there very still as if listening
for something from the farther unknown. Her whole being was
stirred--drawn--unreasoningly expectant. There were moments when she
seemed to just miss something to which she was very close.
To-day she had walked clear around the bend. The little town and pleasant
beach were hidden from view, and there was only the lighthouse out among
the rocks, and the sea coming in wild and mighty to that coast to which
no mariner would attempt to draw near.
It was the hour of the in-coming tide, and as the sea beat against the
rocks it seemed as omnipotent and relentless as that sea of fate against
which nothing erected by man could hope to prevail.
There was no human being in sight. Man, and all to which man blinded one,
were far away. She was alone with things as they were, alone with the
forces which made the world and life, and as the tides of the sea brought
close to her wave after wave, so the mind's tides were bringing close to
her wave upon wave of understanding.
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