on of her
intention; perhaps she wanted to be unhampered by observation. It had
been a soft, showery day, and there was the promise of more rain in the
sky.

She moved wearily, but not without purpose; and soon she was walking
with a hood drawn over her head in the direction of the cliff-edge where
grew the sweet bog-myrtle and the little roses.

She met no one by the way. It was nearing the hour for the evening meal,
nearing the hour when Mrs. Peck usually entered her room with the daily
offering of flowers that filled it with orange fragrance. Mrs. Peck was
not very fond of that particular task, though she never expressed her
reluctance. Well, she would not have it to accomplish tonight.

A bare-legged, blue-jerseyed figure was moving in a bent attitude along
the slope that overlooked Rufus's cottage and the Spear Point. The girl
stood a moment gazing out over the curving reef as if she had not seen
it. The pool was smooth as a mirror, and reflecting the drifting clouds.
The tide was out. But, stay! It must be on the turn, for as she stood,
there came the deep, tolling note of the bell-buoy. It sounded like a
knell.

As it struck solemnly over the water, the man straightened himself, and
in a moment he saw her.

He did not move to meet her, merely stood motionless, nearly knee-deep
in the bog-myrtle, and waited for her, the white roses in one great,
clenched hand. And she, as if compelled, moved towards him, till at last
she reached and stood before him, white, mute, passive as a prisoner in
iron fetters.

It was the man who spoke, with an odd jerkiness of tone and demeanour
that might have indicated embarrassment or even possibly some deeper
emotion. "So you've come along at last!" he said.

She nodded. For an instant her dark eyes were raised, but they flashed
downwards again immediately, almost before they had met his own.

Abruptly he thrust out to her the flowers he held. "I was getting these
for you."

She took them in a trembling hand. She bent her face over them to hide
the piteous quivering of her lips. "Why--do you get them?" she whispered
almost inarticulately.

He did not answer for a moment. Then: "Come down to my place!" he said.
"It's but a step."

She made a swift gesture that had in it something of recoil, but the
next moment, without a word, she began to walk down the slope.

He trod through the growth beside her, barefooted, unfaltering. His blue
eyes looked straight before him; they