He found himself rapidly falling into that state in which he would not
have been able either to advance or retreat. One overmastering horror
seized him. Twice his spirit sought to overcome the faintness and
weakness of the flesh. Twice he stepped resolutely forward; but each
time he faltered and recoiled.

Here was no place for him to summon up his strength. He could bear it no
longer. He turned abruptly and rushed out from the damp, gloomy place
into the warm, bright sunshine and the free air of heaven.

The air was bright, the wind blew fresh. He drank in great draughts of
that delicious breeze, and the salt sea seemed to be inhaled at each
breath.

The sun shone brilliantly. The sea rolled afar and all around, and
sparkled before him under the sun's rays with that infinite laughter,
that [Greek: anaerithmon gelasma] of which Aeschylus spoke in his deep
love of the salt sea. Speaking parenthetically, it may be said that the
only ones from among articulate speaking men who have found fitting
epithets for the sea are the old Greek, the Scandinavian, and the
Englishman.

Brandon drew in new strength and life with every breath, till at last he
began to think once more of returning.

But even yet he feared that when he entered that cabin the spell would
be on him. The thought of attempting it was intolerable. Yet what was to
be done? To remain unsatisfied was equally intolerable. To go back to
his rock was not to be thought of.