Day by day the clouds thickened, and she realised that that which she had thought but a rift between her and Hector—an ugly rent maybe and one that, though healed, must ever leave a scar behind—was in reality a chasm, the depths of which she was unable to fathom. Hard though she fought to bridge it and cross over to where he was standing, it was all in vain; for the planks she stretched out fell uselessly from the farther edge, receding as they touched it, and the figure on the other side grew daily smaller and more indistinct. And Lucy might hope to cross that yawning chasm in vain, for that which lurked within it, pushing its sides asunder, was a lie unconfessed. If Hector would only confess and pluck the lie from the depths, no longer would the gulf widen, but remain fixed for her to bridge, could she but find the plank. If it were left, however, like an iron wedge it would sink lower, ripping and rending as it sank.
Of such a confession from Hector there was little hope now: the lie was almost out of sight already, and he wished it so buried. His brain reeled at the thought of further explanations, every jangling nerve clamoured for peace—peace; for that odd paralysis, which had seized upon his will the first night, had not lifted, as he had hoped, in the morning, rather had it tightened its hold, till now all power of resistance had left him and he had fallen to drifting without mast or oars on a grey, horizonless sea. Something would happen; it was for that he lived now; not for ever could he wander on like this; land must be viewed at last; and at the thought a ray of hope would glimmer above the grey monotony, and its beam for an instant strike warm on his heart.
Yes, sooner or later the end would come; Lucy would see and insist on his going, and not only offer to let him go, as she had done before. He forgot, in his own blindness, that Lucy too could not see, for he himself had taken away her sight. The days dragged on, grey and purposeless, and at last Lucy also began to despair. Do what she would, it was all useless. Unhappiness, unkindness even, she had been prepared for and would have known how to meet, but this dull apathy, this total lack of interest in life, it was that which crushed her.