The light in the garden told her that

　　"Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a madman," she read.
　　"But outside a great storm was raging and blowing so hard that he couldscarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and itthundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black waves as highas church towers and mountains, and all with white foam at the top."She turned the page; there were only a few lines more, so that shewould finish the story, though it was past bed-time. It was getting late.
　　The light in the garden told her that; and the whitening of the flowersand something grey in the leaves conspired together, to rouse in her afeeling of anxiety. What it was about she could not think at first. Thenshe remembered; Paul and Minta and Andrew had not come back. Shesummoned before her again the little group on the terrace in front of thehall door, standing looking up into the sky. Andrew had his net and basket.
　　That meant he was going to catch crabs and things. That meant hewould climb out on to a rock; he would be cut off. Or coming back singlefile on one of those little paths above the cliff one of them might slip. Hewould roll and then crash. It was growing quite dark.
　　But she did not let her voice change in the least as she finished thestory, and added, shutting the book, and speaking the last words as ifshe had made them up herself, looking into James's eyes: "And therethey are living still at this very time.""And that's the end," she said, and she saw in his eyes, as the interestof the story died away in them, something else take its place; somethingwondering, pale, like the reflection of a light, which at once made himgaze and marvel. Turning, she looked across the bay, and there, sureenough, coming regularly across the waves first two quick strokes andthen one long steady stroke, was the light of the Lighthouse. It had beenlit.
　　In a moment he would ask her, "Are we going to the Lighthouse?"And she would have to say, "No: not tomorrow; your father says not."Happily, Mildred came in to fetch them, and the bustle distracted them.
　　But he kept looking back over his shoulder as Mildred carried him out,and she was certain that he was thinking, we are not going to the Lighthousetomorrow; and she thought, he will remember that all his life.