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abloom and the distant hills were tremulous and aerial in springtime
gauzes of pale purple and pearl. But in any garden, despite its
beauty, is an element of tameness and domesticity, and Alan's eyes,
after a moment's delighted gazing, strayed wistfully off to the north
where the hills broke away into a long sloping lowland of pine and
fir. Beyond it stretched the wide expanse of the lake, flashing in the
molten gold and crimson of evening. Its lure was irresistible. Alan
had been born and bred beside a faraway sea and the love of it was
strong in his heart--so strong that he knew he must go back to it
sometime. Meanwhile, the great lake, mimicking the sea in its vast
expanse and the storms that often swept over it, was his comfort and
solace. As often as he could he stole away to its wild and lonely
shore, leaving the snug bounds of cultivated home lands behind him
with something like a sense of relief. Down there by the lake was a
primitive wilderness where man was as naught and man-made doctrines
had no place. There one might walk hand in hand with nature and so
come very close to God. Many of Alan's best sermons were written after
he had come home, rapt-eyed, from some long shore tramp where the
wilderness had opened its heart to him and the pines had called to him
in their soft, sibilant speech.
With a half guilty glance at the futile sermon, he took his hat and
went out. The sun of the cool spring evening was swinging low over the
lake as he turned into the unfrequented, deep-rutted road leading to
the shore. It was two miles to the lake, but half way there Alan came
to where another road branched off and struck down through the pines
in a northeasterly direction. He had sometimes wondered where it led
but he had never explored it. Now he had a sudden whim to do so and
turned into it. It was even rougher and lonelier than the other;
between the ruts the grasses grew long and thickly; sometimes the pine
boughs met overhead; again, the trees broke away to reveal wonderful
glimpses of gleaming water, purple islets, dark feathery coasts.
Still, the road seemed to lead nowhere and Alan was half repenting the
impulse which had led him to choose it when he suddenly came out from
the shadow of the pines and found himself gazing on a sight which
amazed him.
Before him was a small peninsula running out into the lake and
terminating in a long sandy point. Beyond it was a glorious sweep of
sunset water. The peninsula i
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