"I suppose I hadn't given her up really," he went on after a minute, "because I seem to have to begin quite new. It's odd how hard it is to believe that I'm going to settle down at Toppings. I feel as if something must happen to prevent it. But it won't now. It will be all right if she is happy--and good. So I mean what I said, Syl; I hope you'll get her. I think I always knew you did love her, and that made me shy off when you meant to be kind to me. Then it will be all right-- for her." He sat up and looked out over the sunny sea. The ache at his heart was hard to bear, all the harder perhaps that even now he had hardly found the right words for it. There seemed so little to look forward to. Sylvester, full of hopes and fears, interests and longings, with a future from which Amethyst was not shut out, and able to rejoice even in the suffering which brought to him so intense a life, could hardly realise the passion that only made itself felt as want and loss. "Let's walk on," said Lucian presently. "We had better look up some of the _Pirate_ places by and by. We might get down to the beach now, perhaps." There was a little rough path, a mere sheep-track, leading off the headland down a steep descent to the shore. The turf gave place to jagged rocks and loose stones. Lucian went on with rapid, practised tread, and presently turned off from the descent and followed the track along the cliff side. The rocks grew more precipitous, and the track narrower, the sea dashed up at their feet in great breakers of foam. "You don't get dizzy, do you, Syl?" he called back; "this is rather a nasty corner." "No," said Syl. "I can look at the soap-suds." "All right. Here's a splendid great wash-tub." He turned round the rock, there was a little crash. Sylvester hurried forward, but the path and Lucian had alike disappeared. "All right, only a slip," he shouted from below, and, looking down, Syl saw that he had caught by the rough projections of the rock, and was holding himself on by hands and feet, above the jagged rocks and the boiling sea. Sylvester threw himself on his face, and stretching out his hand, caught Lucian's wrist. "Can you pull yourself up a little nearer?" he said. The sea roared in his ears, and foamed under his eyes, beneath Lucian's upturned face. "Let go; give me your hand," said Lucian. Sylvester obeyed, and Lucian loosened the hold of his right hand from the rock, and grasped Sylvester's, holding on to a firmer projection with his left. Then he cautiously raised himself, not a very difficult feat for so active a person--another moment, and he would be safe; but, as he moved and strained upwards, to his horror Sylvester saw the face beneath him whiten and change. "I--can't--I'm hurt. Don't pull me," gasped Lucian.