I got on a
ledge of rock at their foot, where I could lie and let the waves wash
up around me, and look up at the proud turrets rising into the
prismatic light. This evening was very fine; all the sky covered with
crowding clouds, profound, but not sullen of mood, the moon wading,
the stars peeping, the wind sighing very softly. We lay on the high
rocks and listened to the plashing of the waves. The next day was
good, but the keen light was too much for my eyes and brain; and,
though I am glad to have been there, I am as glad to get back to our
garlanded rocks, and richly-green fields and groves. I wish you could
come to me now; we have such wealth of roses.
* * * * *
TO THE SAME.
_Jamaica Plain, Aug., 1889_.
* * * * I returned home well, full of earnestness; yet, I know not why,
with the sullen, boding sky came a mood of sadness, nay, of gloom, black
as Hades, which I have vainly striven to fend off by work, by exercise,
by high memories. Very glad was I of a painful piece of intelligence,
which came the same day with your letter, to bring me on excuse for
tears. That was a black Friday, both above and within. What demon
resists our good angel, and seems at such times to have the mastery?
Only _seems_, I say to myself; it is but the sickness of the
immortal soul, and shall by-and-by be cast aside like a film.
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