"It had been easy to confuse the tentative presence of her spirit with his widower's longing. Lin tended to touch him lightly with her fine fingers as she passed, but he would be left with the doubt of whether it was really she or just a figure of his tormented soul. Moments earlier in the hold, however, he had had no doubts: Lin's face had been as radiant and clear as the moon over the sea. He felt her with him, and was content, as in those long ago nights when she nestled in his arms after they made love."
(Allende 204)