They were beacons, burning on a well-ordered plan to guide the navigator, but he did not know the plan.

In a sense, this was important, and he began to muse.
Now he would soon reach the Old Country, he felt he had made a momentous plunge.

Adventure called, he knew Canada and wanted something fresh, but he wondered whether this was all.

Perhaps the plunge had, so to speak, not been a thoughtless caprice.

In a sense, things had led up to it and made it logical.