each other over the edge; and then, as the ship withdrew, one figured
them making a vain clamour, which, being unheard, either ceased, or rose
into a brawl. Finally, when the ship was out of sight of land, it became
plain that the people of England were completely mute. The disease
attacked other parts of the earth; Europe shrank, Asia shrank, Africa
and America shrank, until it seemed doubtful whether the ship would ever
run against any of those wrinkled little rocks again. But, on the other
hand, an immense dignity had descended upon her; she was an inhabitant
of the great world, which has so few inhabitants, travelling all day
across an empty universe, with veils drawn before her and behind. She
was more lonely than the caravan crossing the desert; she was infinitely
more mysterious, moving by her own power and sustained by her own
resources. The sea might give her death or some unexampled joy, and none
would know of it. She was a bride going forth to her husband, a virgin
unknown of men; in her vigor and purity she might be likened to all
beautiful things, for as a ship she had a life of her own.

Indeed if they had not been blessed in their weather, one blue day being
bowled up after another, smooth, round, and flawless. Mrs. Ambrose would
have found it very dull. As it was, she had her embroidery frame set
up on deck, with a little table by her side on which lay open a black
volume of philosophy. She chose a thread from the vari-coloured tangle
that lay in her lap, and sewed red into the bark of a tree, or yellow
into the river torrent. She was working at a great design of a tropical
river running through a tropical forest, where spotted deer would
eventually browse upon masses of fruit, bananas, oranges, and giant
pomegranates, while a troop of naked natives whirled darts into the air.
Between the stitches she looked to one side and read a sentence about
the Reality of Matter, or the Nature of Good. Round her men in blue
jerseys knelt and scrubbed the boards, or leant over the rails and