ly still
as in a world abandoned; and the light fell on the old faces of the
rocks faintly, as if it feared to show the ravages made in them by the
storms of the long ages they had confronted and defied.

Vere had a sensation of sinking very slowly down into a gulf, as she
stood there, not falling, but sinking, down into some world of quiet
things, farther and farther down, leaving all the sounds of life far up
in light above her. And descent was exquisite, easy and natural, and,
indeed, inevitable. Nothing called her from below. For where she was
going there were no voices. Yet she felt that at last there would be
something to receive her; mystical stillness, mystical peace.

A silky sound--far off--checked that imaginative descent that seemed
so physical, first merely arrested it, then, always silky, but growing
louder, took her swiftly and softly back to the summit she had left. Now
she was conscious again of herself and of the night. She was listening.
The sound that had broken her reverie was the gentle sweep of big-bladed
oars through the calm sea. As she knew this she saw, away to the right,
a black shadow stealing across the silver waste beyond the islet. It
pushed its way to the water at her very feet, and chose that as its
anchorage.

The figure of the rower stood up straight and black for a moment,
looking lonely in the night.

Vere could not see his face, but she knew at once that he was Ruffo. Her
inclination was to bend down with the soft cry of "Pescator!" which she
had sent to him on the sunny morning of their meeting. She checked it,
why she scarcely knew, in obedience to some imperious prompting of her
nature. But she kept her eyes on him. And they were full of will. She
was willing him not to lie down in the bottom of the boat and sleep. She
knew that he and his companions must have come to the pool at that hour
to rest. There were three other men in the boat. Two had been sitting
on the gunwale of it, and now lay down. The third, who was in the bows,
exchanged some words with the rower, who replied. Vere could hear
the sound of their voices, but not what they said. The conversation
continued for two or three minutes, while Ruffo was taking in the oars
and laying them one on each side of the boat. When he had done this he
stretched up his arms to their full length above his head, and a loud
noise of a prolonged yawn came up to Vere, and nearly made her laugh.
Long as it was, it seemed to her to en