ut he; be you all right? You'n sure et's you?"

"Sure, Eli, safe and sound. Let us go to him."

By the aid of the bright moonlight we found him lying seemingly stark
and dead on the ground. I soon discovered to my joy, however, that he
was only stunned, and a few minutes later he sat up and spoke to us.

"Jasper Pennington not dead!" he cried.

"No," I said, telling him how I had escaped; "but come, can you walk?
Have you any bones broken?"

"No; the fellow tried to stab me, but he failed; I was only stunned."

"Then let us go."

"Go where?" he said, in a dazed kind of way.

"I must go to Naomi," I said.

"Yes, yes," he cried eagerly, "how could I forget? Yes, we must go this
moment, this very moment. I am quite well and strong. Come at once."

He spoke with a kind of dignity, and I looked at him again to assure
myself that he was the madman who had saved me by Trevose Head.

"We ca'ant go to-night, ted'n saafe," said Eli, who continued to fondle
my hands and to utter all sorts of endearing terms.

"We must," he cried, "we must. There's not a second to lose. We must go
straight to the house where you left her, and find her if she is there;
if not we must not rest till she is in a place of safety."

He spoke in a tone of authority, and was so peremptory that I wondered.

"Who are you?" I asked; "what is my love's safety to you?"

"Everything, Jasper Pennington," he replied; "I am Naomi Penryn's
father."

"What!" I said aghast.

"Yes," he repeated, "I am Naomi Penryn's father. Come hither, Jasper
Pennington, and let me tell you."

He led me away from Eli, who uttered strange, low sounds, as he always
did when he was excited, and then the man whom I had thought mad spoke
to me in low, earnest tones.

"You have heard my story, Jasper Pennington," he said--"heard how I
struck my wife when she was in a perilous condition. It is true. I
thought I had killed her, and since then I have never had an hour's
peace. I will not tell you what I have done since or where I have been,
except that I have been in hell. You thought me mad--perhaps I have
been; I think I have. A little while ago I was drawn to come back to
Trevose, but I was afraid to ask any questions. I seemed to be followed
by the powers of darkness, who forbade me to speak. And yet I was
fascinated to the spot. You can guess why. I need not tell you anything
else now, you know what I would say. The thought that I have a daughter
alive and that I di