At four o'clock I was out upon the quay, straining my eyes
seaward for any sign of smoke, but could see nothing. The sun was
sinking, and the broad expanse of water westward danced like liquid
gold. The light died out slowly, the cold gray of evening crept on.
A chill wind sprang up and swept the quay, causing me to shiver. I
asked of a dock laborer whether the steamer was usually late,
whereupon he told me that it was often five or six hours behind
time, depending upon the delay at Helsingfors.
Twilight deepened into night, and the rain fell heavily, yet I
still paced the wet flags in patience, my eyes ever seaward for the
light of the vessel which I hoped bore my love. My presence there
aroused some speculation among the loungers, I think; nevertheless,
I waited in deepest an
