One man waited all the night through, like a child waiting for the fairies.  The sea grew calmer and calmer, the tide went down, and the cove spread out its long sands like fingers into the sea.  There was a shadow on the sands below the quarry, and it may have been the shadow of a house.  And perhaps when the tide came up at dawn it devoured old footprints upon the shore, the prints of feet that will never come back.  I think that when the moon fled away into oblivion, it was not only the moon that fled, but also a bubble world, full of dead secrets.

How foolish to wait for the culmination of a secret story!  How foolish of a man to wait all night for the redemption of an old promise, for the resurrection of a forgotten romance!  There are no secret stories, there is no secret world, there are no secret friends.  The House by the Sea has been drowned, and even its ghosts have forgotten it.  After all, there was nothing to remember.  The gate to the House is barred, not by a lock but by a laugh.  Reality and not adversity has blown the bubble away.

I remember the moment when Jay found four-fifths of her life proved false.  I remember that she besieged the world with tears; I remember that she bruised her hands against the iron gate.  How foolish to bruise one’s hands against nothingness!

ANTI-CLIMAX

“It is well,” sighed Anonyma, “that our little Jay has at last found Romance.  Since first she came to my arms—­a toddling sceptic of four—­I have seen what she lacked, I have prayed that I—­who possessed it—­might perhaps be inspired to give her the Clue....  Yet to young Bill Morgan it was given to show her the way ... to unlock the door....  Oh!  Russ, we grow older and wiser and are left behind.  The young reap where we have sown....  Is this always to be the end of our youth?”

Mr. Russell laughed a little.  “Yes,” he said.  “This is the end.”

The finest fruit God ever made
Hangs from the Tree of Heaven blue. 
It hangs above the steel sea blade
That cuts the world’s great globe in two.

The keenest eye that ever saw
Stares out of Heaven into mine,
Spins out my heart, and seems to draw
My soul’s elastic very fine.

The greatest beacon ever fired
Stands up on Heaven’s Hill to show
The limit of the thing desired
Beyond which man may never go.

* * * * *

At midnight, when the night did dance
Along the hours that led to morning,
I saw a little boat advance
Towards the great moon’s beacon warning.

(The moon, God’s Slave, who lights the torch,
Lest men should slip between the bars,
And run aground on Heav’n and scorch
To death upon a bank of stars.)

The little boat, on leaning keel,
Sang up the mountains of the sea,
Bearing a man who hoped to steal
God’s Slave from out eternity.