"Good evening, stranger. Have you been here long?"

A sad, soft, and grave voice answers:

"Good evening, Haggart. Yes, I have been here long."

"You are watching?"

"I am watching and listening."

"Will you allow me to stand near you and look in the same direction
you are looking? I am afraid that I am disturbing you by my uninvited
presence--for when I came you were already here--but I am so fond
of this spot. This place is isolated, and the sea is near, and the
earth behind is silent; and here my eyes open. Like a night-owl, I
see better in the dark; the light of day dazzles me. You know, I
have grown up on the sea, sir."

"No, you are not disturbing me, Haggart. But am I not disturbing
you? Then I shall go away."

"You are so polite, sir," mutters Haggart.

"But I also love this spot," continues the sad, grave voice. "I,
too, like to feel that the cold and peaceful granite is behind me.
You have grown up on the sea, Haggart--tell me, what is that faint
light on the right?"

"That is the lighthouse of the Holy Cross."