t explain to you--"

"Even if there are I cannot do what you ask," she replied. Her face was
still averted, but her voice was steady.

"Then do you want to go with Aunt to London?" he persisted, trying to
catch a glimpse of her hidden face.

She shook her head.

"Or to stay with your father?"

"No!" There was a strange intense note in the brief word.

"Then come with me, Sisily. I love you more than all the world. We have
nobody to please except our two selves."

"You have your duty to your father to consider."

"Let us leave him out of the question," said the young man hurriedly. "He
is as selfish and heartless as--his brother. I tell you again, I'll have
nothing to do with this title or your father's money. I will make my own
way with you by my side. I have a friend in London who would be only too
glad to receive you until we could be married. You are leaving your home
to-night, and you are as free as air to choose. Will you come?"

"Of course," he began again, in a different tone, as she still kept
silent, "it may be that I have misunderstood. I thought that you had
learnt to care for me. But if you dislike me--"

"Do not say that," she replied, turning a deeply wounded face towards him.
"It is not that--do not think so. You have been kind and good to me, and
I--I shall never forget you. But I--I have a contempt for myself."

"I have a contempt for myself also after this afternoon," he retorted.
"Come, Sisily--"

"No, it is impossible. Hark, what was that?" The girl spoke with a sudden
uplifting of her head. Above them, from the direction of the house, the
sound of a voice was heard.

"It is Aunt calling me," she said, "I must go. Good-bye."

"Is it good-bye, then?"

"It must be. But I shall often think of you."

He had the unforgettable sensation of two soft burning lips touching the
hand which hung at his side, and turned swiftly--but too late. She was
speeding along the rocky pathway which led to the house.

"Wait, Sisily!" he cried.

A seabird's mournful cry was the only answer. He glanced irresolutely
towards the path, and then retraced his steps towards the edge of the
cliffs.

A cold sun dipped suddenly, as though pulled down by a stealthy invisible
hand. The twilight deepened, and in the lengthening shadows the rocks
assumed crouching menacing shapes which seemed to watch the solitary
figure standing near the edge, lost in thought.

CHAPTER V

Through the flowers on the hote