It depended on him whether he
should one day bring them safely into port.
"What are you thinking about?" said she, the sound of her voice
put these thoughts to flight and recalled him to the present. He
felt how full and rich her contralto voice was, A moment ago he
could have told her this, and more besides, as an introduction to
still more. Now he sat down without answering, and she did the
same.
"I come up here very often," she said, "to look at the sea. From
here it seems the source of life and death; down there it is a
mere highway." He smiled. She continued: "The sea has this power,
that whatever pre-occupation one may bring up here, it vanishes in
a moment; but down below it remains with one."
He looked at her.
"Yes, it is true," said she, and coloured.
"I do not in the least doubt it," he replied.
But she did not continue the subject. "You are looking at the
saplings, I see."
"Yes."
"You must know that last year there was a long drought; almost all
the young trees up here withered away, and in other places on the
hillsides also, as you see." She pointed as she spoke. "It looks
so ugly as one comes into the bay.
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