He would have scorned to do a dishonourable thing in the face of the uplifting charm of the nature around him, and, more especially, in the presence of his love; but what had nature and this, her beautiful child, to do with the tending of disease and death?
Better let the man die; better remain himself in the wholesome outside.

He felt that he would put himself at variance with the companions of the last glorious hour if he attended to the dictates of this dolorous duty.

Yet, because of a dull habit of duty he had, he turned in a minute, and went into the house where he had been told he would receive guidance for the rest of his journey.
He had no sooner knocked at the substantial door on the ground-floor of the lighthouse than it was opened by a sallow-faced, kindly-looking old woman.

She admitted him, as if he were an expected comer, into a large square room, in which a lamp and a fire were burning.

The room was exquisitely neat and clean, as if the inspector of lighthouses might be looked for at any moment.