Sunset was gilding the water, kissing the sands into rosy warmth and
casting glints of vermilion over the low buildings at the mouth of the
bay, where windows flashed forth a flaming reflection of fire. The
peace of approaching twilight brooded over the village. Little boats,
like homing doves, came flying across the vast expanse of waves, their
sails a splendor of copper in the fading light. With the hush of night
the breeze died into stillness until scarce a leaf of the
weather-beaten poplars stirred. From the tangle of roses, sweet fern
and bayberry that overgrew the fields the note of a thrush rose clear
on the quiet air. A whirling bevy of gulls circled the bar, left naked
and opalescent by the receding tide. Peace was everywhere, divine
peace, save in the breasts of those who gazed only to find a mockery in
the surrounding tranquillity.
Robert Morton's face was stern in meditation. How was this mighty
transformation in Delight's fortunes to affect the hopes he fostered?
To wed the daughter of a humble fisherman was a different matter from
offering a penniless future to the grand-daughter of the stately Madam
Lee.
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