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Then Vere thought that the Saint looked down with pleasure at them, as
a good old man looks at a crowd of laughing children who have run
against him in the street, remembering his own youth. For even the
Saints were young! And, after that, surely the waves were a little
less boisterous. She thought she noted a greater calm. But perhaps it
was only that the breeze was dying down as the afternoon wore on.
She often sat and wondered which she loved best--the calm that lay
upon the sea at dawn, or the calm that was the prelude to the night.
Silvery were these dawns of the summer days. Here and there the waters
gleamed like the scales of some lovely fish. Mysterious lights, like
those in the breast of the opal, shone in the breast of the sea,
stirred, surely travelled as if endowed with life, then sank away to
the far-off kingdoms that man may never look on. Those dawns drew away
the girl's soul as if she were led by angels, or, like Peter, walked
upon the deep at some divine command.


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