Jasper, that day, spent a great deal of time with his mother. She had
told me that she really had had no proper opportunity to talk over with
him their movements after disembarking. Everything changes a little,
the last two or three days of a voyage; the spell is broken and new
combinations take place. Grace Mavis was neither on deck nor at dinner,
and I drew Mrs. Peck's attention to the extreme propriety with which she
now conducted herself. She had spent the day in meditation and she
judged it best to continue to meditate.
'Ah, she's afraid,' said my implacable neighbour.
'Afraid of what?'
'Well, that we'll tell tales when we get there.'
'Whom do you mean by "we"?'
'Well, there are plenty, on a ship like this.'
'Well then, we won't.'
'Maybe we won't have the chance,' said the dreadful little woman.
'Oh, at that moment a universal geniality reigns.'
'Well, she's afraid, all the same.'
'So much the better.'
'Yes, so much the better.'
All the next day, too, the girl remained invisible and Mrs. Nettlepoint
told me that she had not been in to see her. She had inquired by the
stewardess if she would receive her in her own cabin, and Grace Mavis
had replied that it was littered up with things and unfit for visitors:
she was packing a trunk over. Jasper made up for his devotion to his
mother the day before by now spending a great deal of his time in the
smoking-room. I wanted to say to him 'This is much better,' but I
thought it wiser to hold my tongue. Indeed I had begun to feel the
emotion of prospective arrival (I was delighted to be almost back in my
dear old Europe again) and had less to spare for other matters. It will
doubtless appear to the critical reader that I had already devoted far
too much to the little episode of which my story gives an account, but
to this I can only reply that the event justified me. We sighted land,
the dim yet rich coast of Ireland, about sunset and I leaned on the edge
of the ship and looked at it. 'It doesn't look like much, does it?' I
heard a voice say, beside me; and, turning, I found Grace Mavis was
there. Almost for the first time she had her veil up, and I thought her
very pale.
'It will be more to-morrow,' I said.
'Oh yes, a great deal more.'
'The first sight of land, at sea, changes everything,' I went on. 'I
always think it's like waking up from a dream. It's a return to
reality.'
For a moment she made no response to this; then she said, 'It doesn't
look very real yet.'
'No, and meanwhile, this lovely evening, the dream is still present.'
She looked up at the sky, which had a brightness, though the light of
the sun had left it and that of the stars had not come out. 'It _is_ a
lovely evening.'
'Oh yes, with this we shall do.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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