angrily.

"I swear it is not," cried Stratton. "You will not believe me even
after seeing your letter--which I had forgotten--was unopened."

"I can't, Mal. I wish to goodness I could."

"Never mind. I can say no more."

"You mean that you will say no more," said Guest shortly.

"I mean what I said," replied Stratton.

"Very well. You must take your road; I must take mine."

Stratton was silent, and Guest turned short round on his heel, took a
couple of steps away, but turned back.

"Mal, old chap, you make me wild," he cried, holding out his hand. "I
know it's hard to bear--I know how you loved her, but sacrifice self for
your honour's sake; be a man, and come away. There, I'll walk with you
to the post town. You'll come?"

"I cannot yet."

"Why?"

"It is better that I should not tell you," replied Stratton firmly.
"Will you trust me?"

"Will you confide in me, and tell me all your reasons for this strange
conduct?"

"Some day; not now."

"You will not trust me, and you ask me to trust you. It can't be done,
man; you ask too much. Once more, are we to be friends?"

"Yes."

"Then you will go?"

"Yes."

"At once?"

"No."

"Bah!" ejaculated Guest angrily, and he turned and strode away, while
Stratton uttered a low sigh of misery, and yet of relief, for his
friend's presence was irksome to him now that he wanted to act.

He waited until Guest had been gone for some minutes, and then, taking a
short cut, he strode along the sands, half in dread of encountering him
again, but feeling that he must risk it, though certain that if they did
meet Guest would reproach him with going toward the admiral's residence
in order to obtain an interview with Myra.

"He must think it--he must think it," muttered Stratton as he hurried
on, now stumbling over a piece of rock, now slipping on some heap of
weed left by the tide. But he pressed forward, making straight for a
light which shone out plainly half-way up the cliff, and which he
instinctively judged to be at Sir Mark's abode, and a sense of despair
clutched his heart as he felt how he was to be so near and yet dared not
even look, much less speak.

Suddenly he found that, though he was making straight for the cliff, he
was wading through water; but he kept on, believing that he had entered
a pool left by the tide, till the water rose from his ankles to his
knees, and a rushing sound warned him that the tide had turned and was
coming in fast.