o that my
Roseline's eyes may share it; and we pass under the archway.

We are now on the beach; the wind lashes our skirts and batters my large
hat, which flaps around my face. For a more intimate enjoyment of the
sea, we run to it through the glorious, exhilarating air which takes
away our breath. Over yonder, a few people are gathered round a hideous
building all decked out with bunting. It is the casino. We hasten in the
opposite direction. On the patch of sand which the sea uncovers at low
tide, some boys disturb the solitude; but they are attractive in their
fresh and nervous grace, with their slender legs, their energetic
gestures and their as it were beardless voices. Their frolics stand out
against the pale horizon like positive words in a blissful silence.

As we sat down on the shingle, the sun facing us was still blinding; and
I reflected that, when my eyes could endure its brilliancy, it would be
like our human happiness, very near its end....

The excitement of the lunch at the big house has not yet passed off; and
Rose laughs and is amused at everything. Has she to-day at last, by the
contact of those happy, care-free lives, foreseen an approaching
deliverance from hers? Of all the things that we have seen together, how
much has she really observed? Has the test to which I tried to submit
her to-day proved vain? As a guide to her impressions, I traced the
outline of my own before her eyes. I questioned her. Then it seemed to
me that, in bending my thoughts upon Rose, I saw her as we see our image
in the water, with vaguer hues and less decided lines. The girl merely,
from time to time, added a word expressing her contentment, a thought of
her own; and to me it was as though a little sunbeam had played straight
on the water and the image through the leafy branches....

Does this mean that we see here a mere reflection, an utterly hollow
soul, into which the leavings of other souls enter naturally? If it
seems to me, at this moment, to borrow light and blood from me, is that
a reason for thinking that it possesses neither sap nor sunshine? No, a
thousand times no! True, I am the mother of her real life and she must,
so to speak, pass through my soul before reaching hers. But, though we
are of one mind, we are two distinct natures, two very different
characters. It is a question not only of one creature attaching herself
to another, but of an awakening and self-enquiring spirit, of a late and
sudden devel