She motioned to him to go on.

He went, and when he had traversed a hundred paces looked round once more.

She was still there, but now her face was a blur, and again the great white gull hovered about her head.
Then the mist swept up and hid her.
Ah, Beatrice, with all your brains you could never learn those simple principles necessary to the happiness of woman; principles inherited through a thousand generations of savage and semi-civilized ancestresses.

To accept the situation and the master that situation brings with it--this is the golden rule of well-being.

Not to put out the hand of your affection further than you can draw it back, this is another, at least not until you are quite sure that its object is well within your grasp.