Philip tried to say it was only a girl's morality, but her confidence shamed him. She slipped her moist fingers into his hand again. They were close by the deserted tholthan, and she was creeping nearer and nearer to his side. A bat swirled above their heads and she made a faint cry. Then a cat shot from under a gooseberry bush, and she gave a little scream. She was breathing irregularly. He could smell the perfume of her fallen hair. He was in agony of pain and delight. His heart was leaping in his bosom; his eyes were burning. “She's right,” he thought. “Love is best. It is everything. It is the crown of life. Shall I give it up for the Dead Sea fruit of worldly success? Think of the Deemster! Wifeless, childless, living solitary, dying alone, unregretled, unmourned. What is the wickedness you are plotting? Your father is dead, you can do him neither good nor harm. This girl is alive. She loves you. Love her. Let the canting hypocrites prate as they will.” She had disengaged her hand, and was creeping away from him in the half darkness, treading softly and going off like a gleam. “Kate!” he called. He heard her laughter, he heard the drowsy hum of the gill, he could smell the warm odour of the gorse bushes. “But this is madness,” he thought. “This is the fever of an hour. Yield now and I am ruined for life. The girl has come between me and my aims, my vows, my work--everything. She has tempted me, and I am as weak as water.” “Kate!” She did not answer. “Come here this moment, Kate. I have something to say to you.” “Bite!” she said, coming back and holding an apple to his lips. She had plucked it in the overgrown garden. “Listen! I'm leaving Ramsey for good--don't intend to practise in the northern courts any longer--settling in Douglas--best work lies there, you see--worst of it is--we shan't meet again soon--not very soon, you know--not for years, perhaps----” He began by stammering, and went on stuttering, blurting out his words, and trembling at the sound of his own voice. “Philip, you must not go!” she cried. “I'm sorry, Kate, very sorry. Shall always remember so tenderly--not to say fondly--the happy boy and girl days together.” “Philip, Philip, you must not go--you cannot go--you shall not go!” He could see her bosom heaving under her loose red bodice. She took hold of his arm and dragged at it. “Won't you spare me? Will you shame me to death? Must I tell you? If you won't speak, I will. You cannot leave me, Philip, because--because--what do I care?--because I love you!” “Don't say that, Kate!” “I love you, Philip--I love you--I love you!” “Would to God I had never been born!” “But I will show you how sweet it is to be alive. Take me, take me--I am yours!” Her upturned face seemed to flash. He staggered like one seized with giddiness. It was a thing of terror to behold her. Still he struggled. “Though apart, we shall remember each other, Kate.” “I don't want to remember. I want to have you with me.”