"I don't know how to tell you," he began. They were crossing the lawn towards the plantation. "Its about Bessie." "Bessie?" "I .... I'm madly in love with her." Stowell stopped and looked without speaking into Gell's twitching face. "I knew you wouldn't be able to believe it, but don't look at me like that." "Tell me," said Stowell. And then, stammering and trembling, Gell told his story. He didn't know how it began. Perhaps it was pity. He had been sorry for the girl, over there in that lonely place, so he went down at first just to cheer her up. Then he had found himself going frequently, buying her presents and taking her out for walks. When he had realised how things were he had tried to pull up, but it was too late. He had struggled to be loyal--to strengthen himself by talking of Stowell--praising him to the girl, excusing him for not coming to see her--but it was useless. His pity had developed into love, and before he had known what he was doing Bessie was in his arms. At the next instant he had felt like a traitor. He was frantically happy and yet he wanted to kill himself. "It was terrible," he said. "I couldn't sleep at night for thinking of it. Bessie wanted you to be told. In fact she wrote you a letter, saying we couldn't help loving each other, and asking you to release her. But I couldn't let her go that far. 'Then go to Ballamoar and tell him yourself,' she said. And at last I've come. And now .... now you know." Stowell listened in silence. His first feeling was one of wounded pride. He had really been a great fool about the girl! What fathomless depths of conceit had led him to think she would break her heart if he gave her up? And then the long struggle between his love and his duty--what a mountebank Fate seemed to have made of him! But his next feeling was one of relief--boundless, inexpressible relief. The iron chain he had been dragging after him had been broken. He was free! Gell, who was breathing hard, was watching Stowell from under his cap, which was pulled down over his forehead. They were walking in a path that was thick with fallen leaves, and there was no sound for some moments but that of the rustling under their feet. "Why don't you speak, old fellow? I've behaved like a cad, I know. But for God's sake, don't torture me. Strike me in the face with your fist. I would rather that--upon my soul, I would." "Alick," said Stowell, putting his arm through Gell's. "I'm going to tell you something." "What?" "Do you know what I was on the point of doing when you came? Going down to Derby Haven to ask Bessie to let me off." "Is that true? You're not saying it merely to .... But why?" "Because what's happened to her has happened to me also--I love somebody else." "No? Really? .... But who .... who is the other girl? .... Is it .... It's Fenella, isn't it?" "Yes."