Or again, how a ship cuts the waves open and spreads them apart to roll up on her sides and follow after her in a long sweep of tilting water with a froth of foam melting on its crest, how the little tugs draw a ship across a harbor, four little tugs or three joined to a ship by a long cable that stretches tight, pulling the great lazy giant down a bay. Or the Goddess of Liberty, how she is green like beryl or like deep sea water, her bronze burnt with salt fog until it is brilliantly green, catching the light of the morning on the front of her body and turning it off in bright yellow planes, her great squat figure too round and ample for grace, squarely set on firm skirts, short-thighed, great-waisted, holding her plump torch, a great progeny, a myriad brood mothered under her plump skirts. She is brightly green in the morning sun with planes of yellow light; she is looking down the bay and across the Narrows and out to the sea. These were inaccessible but not far, making a relation somehow with the lightness of autumn, the mild sting of the coming cold that could be felt in the early morning. Walking about the town Theodosia wore a bright new coat of rich dark colors and a small velvet hat with a bronze buckle. Conway had helped her to choose the hat, and his lightly spoken approval, gaily negligent, rested upon it all through the autumn and seasoned her whole being with a delicate warmth. A fire burned now in the parlor grate. At nightfall Siver, the black houseboy, was sent through the rooms to renew the coal and brush the hearths clean. Old Tony Bell sat nodding in the room across from the parlor, his room, where the bookshelves were seldom assailed and the books sank together into a solid warped mass. “She will learn to play great music,” he said, “a concerto. I heard it in Paris, the Brahms Concerto. It was, I recollect, a night in December. Let her learn, it won’t hurt her. I never thought my own flesh and blood would master it. She’ll learn.” His bed stood against the wall that was farthest from the fireplace. He would sink often into the bed with unwanted satisfaction and fall asleep without consent, or he would arouse himself and take a brisk walk at twilight, stepping along the boards of the gallery.