ut everything about what went
on at Pennington and tell me. Looking back now, my conduct seems foolish
in the extreme. I could do no good by staying in the cave, I could not
get an inch nearer my purpose. It would have been far more sensible to
have sailed to some distant land and sought for fortune. And I will
admit that I was tempted to do this, and should have left St. Eve, but
for a strange longing to stay near Pennington, knowing as I did that
Naomi Penryn was there, and that, although I had never spoken to her, I
loved the dear maid every hour of my life more and more.

One day, I think it was about a week after I had taken up my abode in
the cave, I was sitting at its mouth and looking across the narrow bay,
and watching the tide come up, when I was strangely startled. I remember
that in dreaming of Naomi Penryn a feeling of despair had come into my
heart, for I saw no chance whatever of ever seeing her again, much less
speaking to her. Besides, even if it were possible for me to win her
love I had no right to do so. Pennington seemed further from my grasp
than ever, while Richard Tresidder's hold on it grew stronger day by
day. I was thinking of these things when I saw, two or three hundred
yards out at sea, standing on a rock, a woman's form. The rock was a
large one, and went by the name of "The Spanish Cavalier." It rose from
the beach to the height of fifteen feet, and was never covered save at
high tides. There was, moreover, a curious place in the rock, not unlike
an arm-chair, in which one might sit and watch the shining waves. All
around it was grouped a number of smaller rocks, which boatmen always
avoided, because driving on them was dangerous.

As I said, I saw on "The Spanish Cavalier" a woman's form, and above the
sound of the breakers I heard a cry for help. I did not hurry to the
rescue, for the delay of a few seconds could make no difference, the
rock was now several feet under water; besides, I was not sure what it
meant. At first I could not discern who the woman was, and fancied it
might be one of the Misses Archer, or perhaps Richard Tresidder's
daughter. But then, I thought, they would know the coast, and would not
allow themselves to be caught by the tide in such a way. On looking
again, however, my heart gave a great leap--the woman on the rock was
Naomi Penryn. A feeling of joy surged through me. At last I had my
chance, I should be able to speak to her without let or hindrance. As I
hav