"He must have reached it," said Lily Briscoe aloud, feeling suddenlycompletely tired out. For the Lighthouse had become almost invisible,had melted away into a blue haze, and the effort of looking at it and theeffort of thinking of him landing there, which both seemed to be one andthe same effort, had stretched her body and mind to the utmost. Ah, butshe was relieved. Whatever she had wanted to give him, when he left herthat morning, she had given him at last.

　　"He has landed," she said aloud. "It is finished." Then, surging up,puffing slightly, old Mr Carmichael stood beside her, looking like an oldpagan god, shaggy, with weeds in his hair and the trident (it was only aFrench novel) in his hand. He stood by her on the edge of the lawn,swaying a little in his bulk and said, shading his eyes with his hand:

　　"They will have landed," and she felt that she had been right. They hadnot needed to speak. They had been thinking the same things and he hadanswered her without her asking him anything. ............