Neither
moon nor stars were visible. A faint noiseless breeze blowing from the
land had come with the darkness. Magdalen paused on the lonely public
walk to breathe the air more freely. After a while she turned her face
from the breeze and looked out toward the sea. The immeasurable silence
of the calm waters, lost in the black void of night, was awful. She
stood looking into the darkness, as if its mystery had no secrets for
her--she advanced toward it slowly, as if it drew her by some hidden
attraction into itself.
"I am going down to the sea," she said to her companion. "Wait here, and
I will come back."
He lost sight of her in an instant; it was as if the night had swallowed
her up. He listened, and counted her footsteps by the crashing of them
on the shingle in the deep stillness. They retreated slowly, further and
further away into the night. Suddenly the sound of them ceased. Had she
paused on her course or had she reached one of the strips of sand left
bare by the ebbing tide?
He waited, and listened anxiously. The time passed, and no sound reached
him. He still listened, with a growing distrust of the darkness. Another
moment, and there came a sound from the invisible shore.
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