the good sense to prefer the Chain Pier. And then I went home.

A game at billiards, a long chat in the smoke-room, ought to have
distracted my mind from the little incident I had witnessed, but it did
not. My bed-room faced the sea, and I drew up the blind so that I might
look at it once more. The beautiful sea has many weird aspects, none
stranger than when it lies heaving sullenly under the light of the moon.
Fascinated, charmed, I stood to watch it. The moon had changed her mind;
she meant to shine now; the clouds had all vanished; the sky was dark
and blue; the stars were shining; but the wind had quickened, and the
waves rolled in briskly, with white, silvery foam marking their
progress.

The Chain Pier stood out quite clear and distinct in the moonlight; very
fair and shapely it looked. Then I went to sleep and dreamed of the
white, beautiful, desperate face--of the woman who had, I believed,
thrown her love-letters into the sea. The wind grew rougher and the sea
grew angry during the night; when at times I woke from my sleep I could
hear them. Ah! long before this the love-letters had been destroyed--had
been torn by the swift waves; the faded flowers and all the pretty
love-tokens were done to death in the brisk waters. I wondered if, in
thought, that beautiful, desperate woman would go back to that spot on
the Chain Pier.

The morning following dawned bright and calm; there was a golden
sunlight and a blue sea; why the color of the water should change so
greatly, I could not think, but change it did. I have seen it clear as
an emerald, and I have seen it blue as the lakes and seas of Italy. This
morning it wore a blue dress, and a thousand, brilliants danced on its
broad, sweet bosom. Already there were a number of people on the