Nothing had made the least real impression upon her except Kensington
Gardens, and they to the end of her life would probably be only a
reminder of pain.
But her first view of the sea!
That was something revivifying!
Her memory of the one occasion when she had gone to Lowestoft with her
mother was too dim to be anything of a reality, and, when they got to
Newhaven, the Professor and Priscilla and she, with a brisk summer wind
blowing the green-blue water into crested wavelets, the first cry of
life and joy escaped her and gladdened Cheiron's heart.
How wonderful the voyage was! She took in every smallest change in the
tones of the sky--she watched the waves from the forepart of the bridge,
and some new essence of life and the certainty that her night forces
would never desert her made themselves felt and cheered her.
Of John Derringham she thought constantly. He was not buried in that
outer circle of oblivion from which the thoughts unconsciously shy--as
we bury our dead, their going so shrouded in pain that we long to blot
out the memory of them.
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