It was not long, however, before I saw him again. I had been out for a row one morning, for my head was aching, partly from prolonged stooping and partly from the effects of a noxious drug which I had inhaled the night before. I pulled along the coast some miles, and then, feeling thirsty, I landed at a place where I knew that a fresh-water stream trickled down into the sea. This rivulet passed through my land, but the mouth of it, where I found myself that day, was beyond my boundary line. I felt somewhat taken aback when, rising from the stream at which I had slaked my thirst, I found myself face to face with the Russian. I was as much a trespasser now as he was, and I could see at a glance that he knew it. “I wish to speak a few words to you,” he said, gravely. “Hurry up, then!” I answered, glancing at my watch. “I have no time to listen to chatter.” “Chatter!” he repeated angrily. “Ah, but there! you Scotch people are strange men. Your face is hard and your words rough, but so are those of the good fishermen with whom I stay, yet I find that beneath it all there lies kind, honest natures. No doubt you are kind and good too, in spite of your roughness.” “In the name of the devil,” I said, “say your say and go your way. I am weary of the sight of you.” “Can I not soften you in any way?” he cried. “Ah, see--see here!” He produced a small Grecian cross from inside his velvet jacket. “Look at this. Our religions may differ in form, but at least we have some common thoughts and feelings when we see this emblem.” “I am not so sure of that,” I answered. He looked at me thoughtfully. “You are a very strange man,” he said at last. “I cannot understand you. You still stand between me and Sophie. It is a dangerous position to take, sir. Oh, believe me, before it is too late. If you did but know what I have done to gain that woman--how I have risked my body, how I have lost my soul. You are a small obstacle to some which I have surmounted--you, whom a rip with a knife or a blow from a stone, would put out of my way forever. But God preserve me from that,” he cried, wildly. “I am deep--too deep--already. Anything rather than that.” “You would do better to go back to your country,” I said, “than to skulk about these sandhills and disturb my leisure. When I have proof that you have gone away, I shall hand this woman over to the protection of the Russian Consul at Edinburgh. Until then, I shall guard her myself, and not you, nor any Muscovite that ever breathed shall take her from me.” “And what is your object in keeping me from Sophie?” he asked. “Do you imagine that I would injure her? Why, man, I would give my life freely to save her from the slightest harm. Why do you do this thing?” “I do it because it is my good pleasure to act so,” I answered. “I give no man reasons for my conduct.”