“I thought you did not like walking on the cliffs, you never would walk there with me before.” “Please don’t be cross with me. May I not change my mind?” She stroked his hand and looked up into his face with eyes which actually had tears in them. “I shall be so miserable if you are cross. I shall feel that I have spoiled your day. I wish now that I had gone in the little boat. I wish I had been upset and drowned. Then perhaps you would have been sorry for me.” She was crying in earnest now. Captain Twinely yielded, yielded to her tears, to the fascination of her presence, to the passion of his love for her. Very tenderly and gently he led her up the steep path to the top of the cliffs. Holding her hands in his he walked silently beside her. He was a bad man, revengeful, cruel, cowardly, but he really loved the woman beside him. His was no heroic, spiritual love, but it was the best, the strongest, of which his nature was capable. He could never for her sake have lived purely and nobly, or learned self-denial, but, cowardly as he was, he would have died for her. Suddenly she stood still, snatched her hand from his grasp, and stepped away from him. “Now,” she cried, “at last! at last! There, Captain Twinely, there is the boat with the sail spread, shooting out to sea. Look at her; look carefully; look well. How many people are there in her? Can you see? I can see very well. There are three, and who is the third?” The tears were gone out of her eyes now. They blazed with triumph and satisfaction. She laughed aloud, exultingly, bitterly. “Who is the third? Can you see? He is Neal Ward, the man you’ve chased, the man you’ve been seeking day and night. There”--she pointed further eastwards--“there is the American brig which will bear him away from you. Do you understand?” Captain Twinely followed her gaze and her pointing finger. He began to understand. “And I did it. I fooled you. I blinded your eyes while my niece fed him in his hiding-place. I encouraged you to seek everywhere, and kept you back from the place where he was. I--I made pretence of tolerating your hateful presence. I made you think that I cared for you, loved you, you, you--I would rather love a toad.” “You have deceived me, then, all the time, played with me.” “Yes,” she laughed wildly, “deceived you, played with you, fooled you, cheated you, and hated you--yes, hated, hated the very sight of you, the abominable sound of your voice, the sickening touch of your hand.” “And I loved you,” he said, simply. “I loved you so well that I think I would have done anything for you. There was no need for you to fool me. I would have let the man go if you had asked me. I would have let him go, though I hate him, and I could not have asked leave even to kiss your hand for my reward. I would have been content just to have pleased you. Why did you cheat me?”