Why is it, I wonder, that the human heart turns so naturally to revenge? In my despair it came to me as a comfort, this thought of driving the Tresidders from Pennington. For the moment I became eager about Eli's story of the treasure, and asked many questions--foolish as the whole business might be--as to what Granfer Fraddam had told his mother, and what she had told him. After a while I remembered the man who had been our companion, and I sent Eli to try and find him. When Eli had gone I examined my clothes and found them dry. So I put them on, wondering all the time as to whose they might be, and who had worn them prior to the time the man had given them to me. No sooner had I finished dressing than Eli and the man came in. I thought the latter looked more calm and self-possessed. He brought some bread, too, and some salted fish. Then for the first time I saw some simple cooking utensils in the cave. "Have you been living in this cave?" I asked. "Yes," he replied; "I have been living here for a month. But you are welcome. I want to do good deeds if I may. I want to atone." "Have you done anything so bad, then," I asked, "else why do you wish to atone?" He looked at me eagerly for a few seconds; then, without speaking, he put two pans on the fire, first of all filling them with water. After this he placed the fish in one of the pans, and waited while the water boiled. "What is your name, young man?" he asked presently. "Jasper Pennington." "Of Pennington?" "Yes; what do you know about it?" "I knew of a family of that name long years ago. Pennington of Pennington. Why are you in this plight?" "Because I have been robbed of my birthright," I replied, bitterly. "By whom?" "The Tresidder family." "The Tresidder family--ah!" He said this with great bitterness and passion. After a few seconds he grew calm again. "And have you sought to be revenged?" "I have sought rather to win back my own. But what do you know of the Tresidders?" "Nothing--oh, nothing, nothing, nothing! What could I, a poor shipwrecked sailor, know about a great family?" This he said hurriedly, almost fearfully, I thought. Presently he continued, "And you have done no rash deeds, Jasper Pennington?" "No." "You have not killed any of their men, their women?" "No; not yet." "Oh, be careful. Do you know"--and he heaped some driftwood on the fire--"that one moment of madness drives a man to hell? I've been in hell now for--oh, nigh upon twenty years. Hell, Jasper Pennington, a burning hell! Suffer anything, anything rather than--than--oh, it's nothing. I'm only imagining still; but there--" And he became silent again. In spite of my many doubts and fears I became interested in the man, and I watched him closely.