203199solely of women, & they should have listened to him, lamented withhim pitied him; given him that divine sensation which of all hecoveted most fixedly of endless inexhaustible sympathy -sympathy in which he could bathe, to which he could return -For who had ?perished & been more tortured than he - whohis son, his daughter his wife all gone; ?& he left alone,worn, aged, broken hearted - the words cameto his lips in acurious ambling singsong; & aged & brokenhearted, he wouldmurmur, & feelnothing but the exquisite delight of the sympathywhich the world he was imagining would give him -sothat sometimes in a queer dramas minutesfled in these queerdramas inwhich he beheld himself,the stake like thelonely stake, the beaten poll(& here he looked at his handswhich were lean enoughtoconfirm the dream) & thenagain beheld the divine faces of comforters looking up at him& offering him the solace of innumerable sighs; imploringhim to tell them what he suffered; & then which he wouldrecite, in wordswhich& get againthe divine im relief ofsucceeding each othersympathy & griefspoken together;& so thisthis would go on until, a repeated & repeated, &, failing &being renewed, until it would seem to him suddenly?heall so vivid, all so clearly heard, that nothing coulduntil it became like a playin which he could be the actor, &?whoalso the audience, &yet suddenly with a great start, he wouldstop. stopped.

Was ?there Cam: James. old Macalister. The Lighthouse.

Look at the house! he repeated.And now James turned his head to look over his shoulder
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