He saw it distinctly, all tender human solicitude
written on the moonlit lineaments. As his eyes opened more her face
receded. She was gone, and he gazed vacantly at the sky; then, realizing
his consciousness more clearly, he sat up suddenly to see where she had
gone.
It seemed to him that, like a kind enchantress, she had transformed
herself to break his passion. Yes, he saw her, as he had so often
curiously longed to see her, moving over the dry shore--she was going
back to her sea. But it was a strange, monstrous thing he saw. From her
gleaming neck down to the ground was dank, shapeless form. So a walrus
or huge seal might appear, could it totter about erect upon low,
fin-like feet. There was no grace of shape, no tapering tail, no shiny
scales, only an appearance of horrid quivering on the skin, that here
and there seemed glossy in the moonlight.
He saw her make her way toilsomely, awkwardly over the shingle of the
beach; and when she reached the shining water, it was at first so
shallow that she seemed to wade in it like a land-animal, then, when the
water was deep enough to rise up well around her, she turned to him once
more a quick glance over her shoulder. Such relief came with the sight
of her face, after this monstrous vision, that he saw the face flash on
him as a sword might flash out of darkness when light catches its blade.
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