Breakers there were none, not more ripple at the clear
tide-edge than on the border of a little lake. So intense was the
silence that every now and then could be distinctly heard a call on
one of the fishing-boats lying some distance from shore. The town
was no longer in sight.
It was close even here; what little breeze there was brushed the
face like the warm wing of a passing bird. Ida dipped her hands in
the water and sprinkled it upon her forehead. Then she took off her
boots and stockings, and walked with her feet in the ripples. A
moment after she stopped, and looked all around, as if hesitating at
some thought, and wishing to see that her solitude was secure. Just
then the sound of a clock came very faintly across the still air,
striking the hour of one. She stepped from the water a few paces,
and began hastily to put off her clothing; in a moment her feet were
again in the ripples, and she was walking out from the beach, till
her gleaming body was hidden. Then she bathed, breasting the full
flow with delight, making the sundered and broken water flash myriad
reflections of the moon and stars.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Waymark was at the station next morning half an hour before train-time.
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