ed walls stood out
distinctly and striking, while the tower lifted its head proudly into
the sky. And this home I had given up. Back from it stretched broad
acres that were mine, and these I had renounced for a woman.

"Treat her well, Wilfred, or by the Creator of us both you shall curse
the day on which you were born."

I muttered this between my closed teeth, for at that moment I knew I
hated him.

Then I remembered the Trewinion's curse.

Do I believe in supernatural agencies, in witchcraft? Am I prey to
superstitious fancies? I cannot answer. The unseen world is so linked
with the seen that they are but one world. I cannot tell where to draw
the line between natural and supernatural. To me the two are one. But
this I know; the moment I realised that I hated Wilfred, I was cursed
with a terrible curse. Evil passions surged within me, I planned dark
deeds, murder did not seem hateful, and hell far worse than that which
I had felt when I had been struggling on the cliff was now my doom.

A bottomless pit! I was in it. A pit of slavery to evil desire, of
savage joy which was not joy, at the thought of evil. This was where I
was.

He, the miserable sneak, had robbed me of my love, my all. And yet I
could not go back. The house was mine, the lands were mine, yet I
could not claim them. I was bound, yet I could not see the fetters
which chained me.

Does a curse like unto mine follow the footsteps of men who hate, or
does the Trewinion race stand alone. Be that as it may, I felt cursed,
the clear fountains of my manhood were gone. Roger Trewinion was more
demon than man. For hatred poisons the soul.

And yet I loved Ruth. This, I think, was the power that kept me from
going back and doing evil, and yet this love did not make me hate the
less. Nay, it made hatred more intense.

Long I stood alone in the grey morning, watching the bleak house that
stood in the distance, while the sea moaned and sobbed miserably, as if
to add another feeling to the misery of my heart. I seemed riveted
there. I looked at the five prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" like one
entranced, and thought of their associations. I saw the place where I
had saved Ruth, when she had fallen from the cliffs. I fancied I
detected the place where the witches' cave stood, and I remembered all
that had been said.

"Ah," I cried, "Deborah Teague is indeed a true prophet. Dark omens
have a meaning. I am indeed homeless, friendles