The next afternoon we sailed past my old home. Long before we drew near it, I saw the grey tower on the great weather-beaten cliff, and with beating heart I stood on the deck and watched while we drew nearer and nearer. I strained my eyes to catch sight of any of my family, but no one could be seen. Closer and closer we came, the great prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" standing out more clearly as we swept on. Did anyone there think of me? I wondered. Yes, they would naturally do that. My mother would think of me, and be glad I was gone, for her favourite boy would be master. Wilfred would think of me, and wonder if I should come back, and, perhaps, dread the thought of such a thing happening. My sisters would think of me lovingly, and wonder what had become of Roger. And Ruth--I dared not think of her. Who had seen my letter? I wondered. My mother was the most likely one to do so, or Wilfred, and they would treasure up the words I had written, they would weigh well their purport. But would it be shown to Ruth or to my sisters? My dear, dear old home, how I loved it! It was there I was born, it was there my father had died. So near was I to it, and yet so far. Besides, it was mine no longer. I had given it up to make the woman I loved happy, and to keep it from being hell to me. My thoughts were rudely checked. Two persons stood together on the headland, the headland on which my home stood, and they were evidently looking at the ship in which I was sailing. Who were they? I strained my eyes to see. They looked like Wilfred and---- I dared not think of it, the thought was maddening. I would not believe that Ruth was out walking with Wilfred so soon after my departure, and on the very day when she was reported to be leaving for her home. Yet why not? By this time they had, perhaps, publicly announced themselves as lovers; and yet they dare not. My departure could not yet be regarded as a settled thing, and my mother had told me that Ruth would be true to her father's wish. As yet I must be regarded among them as Trewinion's heir, and thus she would look upon me as her future husband. How, then, could she be encouraging the man she loved, when she would regard it as a sin to do so? But was it she, was it Wilfred? The captain's glass was near me, and I seized it. I brought it to the right focus. I saw them plainly, Ruth and Wilfred standing side by side, with her hand resting on his arm. There could be no mistake. Yes, she would know all by this time; she would know that I had given up everything for her happiness, and she had accepted it without a pang. She had come out alone with the man who had stepped into my place. It was base ingratitude. She was not worthy the sacrifice. I would leave the vessel at Falmouth, go home, and destroy their plans; I would claim my own again. As for Wilfred, I would whip him like a dog, and drive him from the place.