was over I returned along the sands, sauntering and lingering in the
hope that, late as it was now growing, the balmy evening might have
enticed her out.

The evening grew to night, and still I lingered. The moon was nearly
at the full, and exceedingly bright. The tide was down. The scene was
magical; I could not leave it. I said to myself, 'I will go and stand
on the very spot where Winifred stood when she lisped "certumly" to
the proposal of her little lover.'

It was not, after all, till this evening that I really knew how
entirely she was a portion of my life.

I went and stood by the black boulder where I had received the little
child's prompt reply. There was not a grain left, I knew, of that
same sand which had been hallowed by the little feet of Winifred, but
it served my mood just as well as though every grain had felt the
beloved pressure. For that the very sands had loved the child, I half
believed.

I said to myself, as I sat down upon the boulder, 'At this very
moment she is here, she is in Raxton. In a certain little cottage
there is a certain little room.' And then I longed to leave the
sands, to go and stand in front of Wynne's cottage and dream there.
But that would be too foolish. 'I must get home,' I thought. 'The
night will pass somehow, and in the morning I shall, as sure as fate,
see her flitting about the sands she loves, and then what I have
sworn to say to her I will say, and what I have sworn to do I will
do, come what will.'