"I know it, George, indeed," she said. And, tearing myself from her, I returned to city life. There I gave myself once more up to business and its cares, in hopes of drowning my disappointment; and now, after long months of sad regret, I have nearly succeeded, and have become myself again. But, at times, I lie awake in the middle of the night and listen to the city's roar, and in the sound I seem to hear once more the play of breakers on the shore at Beacon Ledge; and then I think, with sadness, how different might have been my lot, had I not so foolishly determined to utter, with the lighthouse lamps, and so many miles across, those words of greeting which should have been softly whispered instead, by lowly pleading lips, into closely attentive, willing ears. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and intent. End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 9, by Various