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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 3"

"
"We must leave all that, Harry," she answered.
She was turning on myself the counsel I had been giving Wynnie. It is
strange how easily we can tell our brother what he ought to do, and yet,
when the case comes to be our own, do precisely as we had rebuked him for
doing. I lay down and fell fast asleep.



CHAPTER IX.
THE FUNERAL.


It was a lovely morning when I woke once more. The sun was flashing back
from the sea, which was still tossing, but no longer furiously, only as if
it wanted to turn itself every way to flash the sunlight about. The madness
of the night was over and gone; the light was abroad, and the world was
rejoicing. When I reached the drawing-room, which afforded the best outlook
over the shore, there was the schooner lying dry on the sands, her two
cables and anchors stretching out yards behind her; but half way between
the two sides of the bay rose a mass of something shapeless, drifted over
with sand. It was all that remained together of the great ship that had the
day before swept over the waters like a live thing with wings--of all the
works of man's hands the nearest to the shape and sign of life.


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