Every time the sea made a little noise on the shore, an angel had stepped on to the earth.

The angel was glad.
Israel had begun to listen to Naomi's fancies with a doubting heart.
Where had they come from?
Was it his duty to wipe out these beautiful dream-stories of the maid born blind and newly come upon the joy of hearing with his own sadder tales of what the world was and what life was, and death and heaven?
The question was soon decided for him.
Two days after Naomi had been taken to Marteel she was missed again.
Israel hurried away to the sea, and there he came upon her.

Alone, without help, she had found a boat on the beach and had pushed off on to the water.

It was a double-pronged boat, light as a nutshell, made of ribs of rush, covered with camel-skin, and lined with bark.

In this frail craft she was afloat, and already far out in the bay not rowing, but sitting quietly, and drifting away with the ebbing tide.