But as for us, for
Grace and me, we never leave this our happy Moonfleet, being well
content to see the dawn tipping the long cliff-line with gold, and the
night walking in dew across the meadows; to watch the spring clothe the
beech boughs with green, or the figs ripen on the southern wall: while
behind all, is spread as a curtain the eternal sea, ever the same and
ever changing. Yet I love to see it best when it is lashed to madness in
the autumn gale, and to hear the grinding roar and churn of the pebbles
like a great organ playing all the night. 'Tis then I turn in bed and
thank God, more from the heart, perhaps, than, any other living man,
that I am not fighting for my life on Moonfleet Beach. And more than
once I have stood rope in hand in that same awful place, and tried to
save a struggling wretch; but never saw one come through the surf alive,
in such a night as he saved me.
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