The shore was but twenty yards away, but she could hardly see it.

The sail hung limp, wrinkled, and motionless.

She began to sing, and there alone in the darkness she fell in love with her own voice, and sang on and on, thinking only of the music.
Her uncle was long in coming; she became conscious of movement in the water, like the swell of waves outside rolling into the cove.

She heard the sound of swaying among all the trees on the shore.

She looked up and saw that the stars of one half the sky were obscured, that the darkness was rolling onward toward those that were still shining.
She stopped her own singing, and the song of the waters beneath her prow was curiously like the familiar sound when the boat was in motion.