s not dull, but luminous
with the sunshine it enfolded, and full of colour in fine gradations
as Beth beheld it. She sat a long time on the warm dry sand, with her
chin resting on her knees, and her hands clasped round them, not
gazing with seeing eyes nor listening with open ears, but
apprehending through her further faculty the great harmony of Nature
of which she herself was one of the triumphant notes. At that moment
she tasted life at its best and fullest--life all ease and grace and
beauty, without regret or longing--perfect life in that she wanted
nothing more. But she rose at last, and, still gazing at the sea,
slowly unclasped her waistbelt, and let it fall on the sand at her
feet; then she took her hat off, her dress, her boots and stockings,
everything, and stood, ivory-white, with bright brown wavy hair,
against the lilac greyness under the tall dark cliffs. The little
waves had called her, coming up closer and closer, and fascinating
her, until, yielding to their allurements, she went in amongst them,
and floated on them, or lay her length in the shallows, letting them
ripple over her, and make merry about her, the gladdest girl alive,
yet with the wrapt impassive face of a devotee whose ecstasy is apart
from all that acts on mere flesh and makes expression. All through
life Beth had her moments, and they were generally such as this, when
her higher self was near upon release from its fetters, and she arose
an interval towards oneness with the Eternal.

But on this occasion she was surprised in her happy solitude. A troop
of what Mrs. Caldwell called "common girls" came suddenly round the
cliff into her sheltered nook, with shouts of laughter, also bent on
bathing. Beth plunged in deeper to cover herself the moment they
appeared; but they did not expect her to have anything on, and her
modesty was lost upon them.

"How's the water?" they shouted.

"Delicious," she answered, glad to find them friendly.

They undressed as they came along, and were very soon, all of them,
playing about her, ducking and splashing each other, and Beth also,
including her sociably in their game. And Beth, as was her wont,
responded so cordially that she was very soon heading the
manoeuvres.

"We shall all be ill if we stay in any longer," she said at last. "I
shall take one more dip and go and dress. Let's all take hands and dip
in a row."

They did so, and then, still hand in hand, scampered up on to the
beach.

"My!"