"Look," I said; "if you will stand on my shoulders so" – and I placed my back against the rock. "I am afraid your feet will have to be wet, just a little, for my shoulders are in the water. There, that is it; now hold my hands," and I lifted my hands as high above my head as I could.

She did as I bade her; thus we both stood with our faces toward the shore, she standing on my shoulders and stooping a little in order to hold my hands tightly.

It was joy unspeakable to feel the little fingers in mine, for this was the first time that my flesh touched hers, and with the touch a thrill of gladness, the like of which I had never felt before, passed through my whole being.

I carried her safely. At that time rocks and roaring breakers were nothing to me, the buffeting of the waves against my body I felt not one whit! I think she must have felt my great strength, for when I had carried her a few yards she laughed, and the laugh had no fear.

"You feel quite safe?" I asked presently, when I had got away from the rocks.

"Quite safe," she said, and so I carried her on until I stood on the smooth yellow sands, and although the waves still broke, I felt their force not at all, for the thought of her trusting me made my sinews like willow thongs.

Right sorry was I when the water no longer touched my feet, and I must confess that I lingered over the last part of the journey, so pleasant was my burden, and so glad a thing was it to feel her fingers fastening themselves around mine. Perhaps she regarded me as she might regard a fisherman who might have rendered her a similar service, but it did not matter. I, whom she had seen pilloried as a vagrant and a street brawler, held her fast, and my love grew stronger minute by minute.

When I put her on the sands, only her feet were wet, and no one could tell of the position in which she had been.

I shook myself after I had put her down, and I was almost sorry I had done so immediately afterward, for I could see that my condition made her sorry for me, and I did not want to be pitied.

"You must get dry clothes at once," she said.

"I have none," I said, unthinkingly, "save my jacket and waistcoat, which lie on yon rock."

"But you will be very cold."

I laughed gaily. "It is nothing," I said, "the sun will not go down for three hours yet, and before that time my rags will be dry."

"I am very thankful to you," she said; "I cannot swim, and but for you I should have been drowned."

"Oh, no," I replied; "you could have climbed to the top of the rock, and waited till the tide went out again."

"No, I should have been afraid. You have been very kind and very good to me. I was very foolish to get there, but it was very tempting to climb on the rock and sit and watch the sea. I must have fallen asleep in the sun, for I remembered nothing until I felt the cold water beat on me."

"I was not kind or good," I said, roughly. "I thought first it was Emily Tresidder. Had it been, I should not have gone."

"Yes, you would," she said; "you have a kind face. Besides, you should not hate the Tresidders. Mr. Tresidder is my guardian."

"I am sorry for you," I said.

She looked at me steadily, but did not speak.

"I know what you are thinking about," I said. "I was pilloried at Falmouth when you saw me before, and I just escaped being flogged before the crowd. Even now, I suppose, I am being searched for."

"Indeed you are. Do you think you are safe in staying here?"

"It doesn't matter, I suppose; I shall soon be taken."

"Why do you think so?"

"You will, of course, tell Tresidder where I am, and then my liberty must soon come to an end."

I hated myself for speaking so, for I saw her lips tremble, as though I had pained her.

"Is not that unkind?" she said, presently, "and do you not judge the Tresidders wrongly? Have you not provoked them to anger?"

"They have told you about me, then; they have told you that I am a thief, a vagabond, a bully?"

She did not reply, but I knew from the look on her face that I had spoken the truth.

For a second there was a silence between us, then she said, "I thank you very much, and now I must go back to Pennington."

"Not until you hear my story," I said, eagerly.

"Why should you tell me?" she asked.

"Because I do not wish you to judge me wrongly," I said; "because you have known me only as one who is evil and revengeful. Let me tell you the truth."

She did not speak, but she looked at me as if expecting me to go on. So I told her my story eagerly, told it truly, as I have tried to tell it here, only in fewer words.

"And this is true?" she asked, eagerly. "That is," she said, correcting herself, "you are sure you are not mistaken?"

"As God lives, it is true," I replied. "Is it any wonder, then, that I hate the Tresidders, is it any wonder that I should thrash them as I would thrash a yelping, biting cur?"

"Is it brave for a strong man to pounce upon a weaker one?" she asked.

"They were two to one," I replied; "besides, the street was full of people, and he has everything on his side, and I am alone, an outcast, a beggar in my own parish."

"But he has the law on his side."

"Yes; and he has twisted the law to serve his own ends. He and his mother have used vile tools to cheat me."

"And if you could save up half the worth of Pennington you could buy it back."

"I could demand to buy it back. Lawyer Trefry has the copy of the will. I have seen it. That is why they have tried to ruin me."

"And do you say that Nick tried to stab you?" she asked, anxiously.

"I have the knife yet," I replied. "His name is on it. I trusted him to wrestle fair, even though he sought to ruin me. Perhaps I was wrong to hurt him, but I was mad with pain. The mark of the wound is on my chest now. Look," and I showed her the scar.

She shuddered, then she said, "Hate always brings misery, and love always brings joy. You should love your enemies."

"Yes; if a man will fight openly and fairly, I will not hate him. If I wanted to touch an adder with my hand I would not catch him by the tail so that it could curl around and sting my hand; I would catch it just behind the head. It might writhe and wriggle, but I should know that it could not bite me. That is how I want to treat the Tresidders. You despise me," I went on; "you see me now a thing that has to hide like a rabbit in burrow. Well, perhaps it is natural – you live with the Tresidders."

"No, I do not despise you," she said. "I feel for you; I am an orphan just as you are. Of course, Mr. Tresidder is very kind to me, but Pennington is not like home – that is – " Then she stopped as though she had said more than she had intended. "I felt sorry for you when I saw you in Falmouth. Did – did you see me?"

"I saw you – I – I – look, there is Nick Tresidder and his father coming now. I must away!"

We were only partially hidden by the rock, at the side of which we stood. I could see them with sufficient clearness for me to recognise them. They could see us, but I did not think it would be possible for them to tell who we were.

"They are searching for me," she cried. "I have been away from the house a long time."

"Well, go to them," I said.

"But they have seen that there are two of us. Do you think they know us from this distance?"

"No, we have been partly hidden."

"But if I go, they will ask who has been with me."

"Do you not wish to tell them?"

"If I do you will be in danger. If they know you are near you will be hunted down. They think you have left the country."

"You can save me if you will," I cried, eagerly.

"I will do what I can!"

"Come, then – there, keep behind these rocks until we get to the cliffs. Go quickly."

She obeyed me eagerly, and a few seconds later we stood behind a great jagged promontory.

"Did they see us, do you think?"

"Yes, they saw us, but they could not have recognised us; or I fancy not," I added, for I had my fears; "but come, walk on the shingle so that they cannot trace your footsteps. That is it."

We came close to the cave where my clothes lay. These I picked up with a feeling of relief.

"We are safe now," I said.

"No," she cried; "they will soon come up, and can easily find us."

For she had not seen the mouth of Granfer Fraddam's Cave, although it was close to her. I was glad of this, for it told me how safe my hiding-place was, and showed that the opening was so curiously hidden that a stranger might pass it a hundred times and not see it. So I helped her to climb up the cliff until I got to a small platform, and afterward passed along the fissure between the rocks and drew her after me, and then, when she had followed me a few steps, she saw how cunningly Nature had concealed the place, and fearful as she was, she uttered a low exclamation of pleased surprise. For from this place we could see without being seen, even although we were not inside the cave itself.

Excited as I was, for my heart was beating fast and my head throbbed at the same rate, I wondered at my good fortune in making her my friend. For her willingness to come with me, rather than to expose me to the Tresidders, showed that she was my friend, and my gladness at the thought was beyond all words. At the same time I could not help fearing for her. If either Nick Tresidder or his father had recognised her, she would be exposed to many awkward questionings, which would be hard for her to answer; neither did I desire that she should have to suffer for me. I marvelled greatly, too, that she should have understood the situation so easily, and that, in spite of all my enemies must have said, she seemed to trust me so implicitly. I remembered, however, that she would, perhaps, feel grateful to me for rescuing her from her awkward position on "The Spanish Cavalier," and that she would be anxious that my action should not bring any harm to me. And while this thought did not bring me so much pleasure as it ought, it showed me that the Tresidders had not altogether poisoned her mind against me.

Although it has taken me some minutes to write down these thoughts, they passed through my mind very rapidly.

"They cannot see us here," she said, questioningly, "neither can they find us?"

"Not unless they know the cave," I replied.

"Oh, I hope not," was her response, and although Tresidder was her guardian and Pennington was her home, it did not feel strange at that moment that she should be hiding with me, who was being sought for by the minions of the law.

The sea was by this time getting nearer the foot of the cliff, and there was now only twenty feet of shingle between water and land. So I stood and watched, but I could not as yet see them, for the promontory, behind which we had first hidden, stood between us and them.

"Do you see them?"

"Not yet," I replied, "they have had scarcely time to get here yet, but I think they will soon be here."

As I spoke I looked on her face, the most beauteous I had ever seen, and when I remembered what she had done to shield me my love grew more fervent. For I had no claim on her, who was a stranger, save that I had carried her to the shore, which of course was nothing. By that I mean to say it was nothing for which she should serve me; rather it was I who owed gratitude to her, for my joy at serving her made my heart leap in my bosom, until I could even then have sung aloud for gladness.

"Are they coming?" she asked again, presently.

"Yes, they are close to us," I replied, for at that moment they had passed the rock by which we had at first stood.