TO THE LIGHTHOUSE

struck into stability. Life stand still here}
Mrs. Ramsay said, " Mrs. Ramsay! Mrs,
Ramsay! " she repeated. She owed this revela-
tion to her.

All was silence. Nobody seemed yet to be
stirring in the house. She looked at it there
sleeping in the early sunlight with its windows
green and blue with the reflected leaves. The
faint thought she was thinking of Mrs. Ramsay
seemed in consonance with this quiet house; this
smoke; this fine early morning air. Faint and
unreal, it was amazingly pure and exciting. She
hoped nobody would open the window or come
out of the house, but that she might be left
alone to go on thinking, to go on painting. She
turned to her canvas. But impelled by some
curiosity, driven by the discomfort of the sympathy
which she held undischarged, she walked a pace
or so to the end of the lawn to see whether, down
there on the beach, she could see that little
company setting sail. Down there among the little
boats which floated, some with their sails furled,
some slowly, for it was very calm, moving away,
there was one rather apart from the others. The
sail was even now being hoisted. She decided that
there in that very distant and entirely silent little
boat Mr. Ramsay was sitting with Cam and James.
Now they had got the sail up; now after a little
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