Alongshore there is never any sad phase of the fall.
One reason is the lack of deciduous trees. The brushless hills and
fields are merely turned to golden brown when the frosts touch them.
The sea--ever changing in aspect, yet changeless in tide and
restraint--was as bright and sparkling as at midsummer. Along the
distant beaches the white ruffle of the surf seemed to have just
been laundered. The green of the shallows and the blue of the deeper
sea were equally vivid.
When she first arose Sheila Macklin looked abroad from that favorite
north window of her bedroom, and saw that all the world was good. If
she had felt secret misgivings and the tremor of a nervous
apprehension, these feelings were sloughed away by this promising
morning. The fear she had expressed to Tunis Latham the evening
before did not obsess her. She continued placid and outwardly
cheerful. Whatever threatened in the immediate future, she
determined to meet it with as much composure as she could summon.
Nobody but Sheila Macklin knew wholly what she had endured since
leaving her childhood's home. When Tunis Latham had come so
dramatically into her life she had been almost at the limit of her
endurance. To him, even, she had not confessed all her miseries.
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