The Voice Of The Sea Speaks To

She Wanted Something To Happen - Something, Anything: She Did Not Know What.

She Had All Her Life Long Been Accustomed To Harbor Thoughts And Emotions Which Never Voiced Themselves… They Belonged To Her Her And Were Her Own, And She Entertained The Conviction That She Had A Right To Them And They They Concerned No One But Herself.

There Would Be No One There To Live For Her During Those Coming Years; She Would Live For Herself. There Would Be No Powerful Will Bending Hers In That Blind Persistance With Which Men And Women Believe They Have A Right To Impose A Private Will Upon A Fellow-creature. A Kind Intention Or A Cruel Intention Made The Act Seem No Less A Crime As She Looked Upon It In That Brief Moment Of Illumination.

She Was Still Under The Spell Of Her Infatuation. She Had Tried To Forget Him, Realizing The Inutility Of Remembering. But The Thought Of Him Was Like An Obsession, Ever Pressing Itself Upon Her. It Was Not That She Dwelt Upon Details Of Their Acquaintance, Or Recalled In Any Special Or Peculiar Way His Personality; It Was His Being, His Existence, Which Dominated Her Thought, Fading Sometimes As If It Would Melt Into The Mist Of The Forgotten, Reviving Again With An Intensity Which Filled Her With An Incomprehensible Longing.

There Were Days When She Was Unhappy, She Did Not Know Why,--when It Did Not Seem Worthwhile To Be Glad Or Sorry, To Be Alive Or Dead; When Life Appeared To Her Like A Grotesque Pandemonium And Humanity Like Worms Struggling Blindly Toward Inevitable Annihilation.