It had been a hard climb, and I panted freely, looking round meanwhile for the one who had screamed. At first I could see nothing but chimneys; but presently I saw two dark forms hiding by a portion of the roof which stood somewhat higher than the rest. I walked slowly towards them. Even now I am conscious of a strange feeling at heart as I remember that night. For there in the bright moonlight appeared a spectacle which was almost awesome. The sight of the sea and the rock-bound coast burst suddenly upon me. Below, hundreds of feet down, the waves cast themselves on the beach, which was studded with huge masses of rock. The sea shone in the light of the moon, and behind the crest of every wave was a great streak of silver lustre, fair to behold. Far out, I could see the waves a-dancing, while here and there the lights of distant vessels shone. Away to the right, Tintagell, perchance the mightiest coast-rock in England, lifted its hoary head, while to the left the bare, rugged cliffs, in spite of the soft moonbeams, looked chill and drear. And I was there--behind the battlements of the home of the Killigrews--alone save for the presence of two helpless women. All this came to me quickly--I seemed to realize it in a moment; and then I shook the feeling from me, for I remembered I had work to do. "'Tis he," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as that of Amelia Lanteglos. And then I saw the other maid, whose face was partly hidden, turn towards me. "Be not afraid," I said as gently as I could; for though I would have little to do with them, I loved not to frighten women. "What would you, sir?" said a voice, low and sweet. "Amelia, my serving-maid, hath persuaded me to come here to-night. It is against my better judgment I have come, but----" then she stopped as though she knew not how to finish what she had begun to say. I cannot deny it, I felt something like pity for the maid. Her voice was sad and plaintive. It suggested weariness, loneliness--and no man is unmoved by such things. I felt ashamed, too. I had promised to take her to Treviscoe, to be the wife of Peter Trevisa; for I had little doubt but that if those two men once got her there, they would try to frame arguments strong enough to make her yield to their wishes. But this was only for a moment. I reflected that women were as little to be trusted as April weather, and would veer around like a weathercock. I remembered my own love affair, and called to mind the words the girl Boscawen had said to me only a few days before she threw me over for Prideaux. "I would speak to you alone for a few minutes," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Your hand is bleeding," she said kindly; "and--and how did you get here?" "I climbed from the old castle wall." "But it is impossible--it could not be! No one could do it!" This she said in low, broken whispers, but like one frightened.