finger on the work of justice, and say, "It is there"?
Justice is like the Kingdom of God--it is not without us as a fact, it
is within us as a great yearning.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

ROMOLA'S WAKING.

Romola in her boat passed from dreaming into long deep sleep, and then
again from deep sleep into busy dreaming, till at last she felt herself
stretching out her arms in the court of the Bargello, where the
flickering flames of the tapers seemed to get stronger and stronger till
the dark scene was blotted out with light. Her eyes opened and she saw
it was the light of morning. Her boat was lying still in a little
creek; on her right-hand lay the speckless sapphire-blue of the
Mediterranean; on her left one of those scenes which were and still are
repeated again and again like a sweet rhythm, on the shores of that
loveliest sea.

In a deep curve of the mountains lay a breadth of green land, curtained
by gentle tree-shadowed slopes leaning towards the rocky heights. Up
these slopes might be seen here and there, gleaming between the
tree-tops, a pathway leading to a little irregular mass of building that
seemed to have clambered in a hasty way up the mountain-side, and taken
a difficult stand there for the sake of showing the tall belfry as a
sight of beauty to the scattered and clustered houses of the village
below. The rays of the newly-risen sun fell obliquely on the westward
horn of this crescent-shaped nook: all else lay in dewy shadow. No
sound came across the stillness; the very waters seemed to have curved
themselves there for rest.

The delicious sun-rays fell on Romola and thrilled her gently like a
caress. She lay motionless, hardly watching the scene; rather, feeling
simply the presence of peace and beauty. While we are still in our
youth there can always come, in our early waking, moments when mere
passive existence is itself a Lethe, when the exquisiteness of subtle
indefinite sensation creates a bliss which is without memory and without
desire. As the soft warmth penetrated Romola's young limbs, as her eyes
rested on this sequestered luxuriance, it seemed that the agitating past
had glided away like that dark scene in the Bargello, and that the
afternoon dreams of her girlhood had really come back to her. For a
minute or two the oblivion was untroubled; she did not even think that
she could rest here for ever, she only felt that she rested. Then she
became distinctly conscious that she was l