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Evelyn closed her eyes dizzily. The marvel of the man’s presence was still upon her, but the horror of death haunted her also. She would rather have been drowned outside on the howling shore than here.

“The sea comes in at high tide,” she murmured shakily.

Lester Cheveril, crouching beside her, made undaunted reply.

“Yes, I know. But it won’t touch us. Don’t be afraid!”

The assurance with which he spoke struck her very forcibly; but something held her back from questioning the grounds of his confidence.

“How did you get here?” she asked him instead.

“I saw you from the corner of the bay,” he said. “It was before you left your rock. I climbed round the point over the boulders. I thought at the time that there must be some way up the cliff. Then I saw you start running, and I knew you were cut off. I yelled to you, but I couldn’t make you hear. So I had to give chase.”

His arm tightened a little about her.

“I am sorry you were scared,” he said. “Are you feeling better now?”

She could not understand him. He spoke with such entire absence of anxiety. In spite of herself her own fears began to subside.

“Yes, I am better,” she said. “But–tell me more. Why didn’t you go back when you saw what had happened?”

“I couldn’t,” he said simply. “Besides, even if they launched the lifeboat, the chances were dead against their reaching you. I thought of a rope, too. But that seemed equally risky. It was a choice of odds. I chose what looked the easiest.”

“And carried me here?” she said.

The light, shining weirdly in upon his face, showed her that he was smiling.

“I couldn’t stop to consult you,” he said. “I saw this hole, and I made for it. I climbed up with you across my shoulder.”

“You are wonderfully strong,” she said, in a tone of surprise.

He laughed openly.

“Notwithstanding my size,” he said. “Yes; I’m fairly muscular, thank Heaven.”

Evelyn’s mind was still working round the problem of deliverance.

“We shall have to stay here for hours,” she said, “even if–if—-“

He interrupted her with grave authority.

“There is no ‘if,’ Miss Harford,” he said. “We may have to spend some hours here; but it will be in safety.”

“I don’t see how you can tell,” she ventured to remark, beginning to look around her with greater composure notwithstanding.

“Providence doesn’t play practical jokes of that sort,” said Cheveril quietly. “Do you know I have come from the other end of the earth to see you?”

She felt the burning colour rush up to her temples, yet she made a determined effort to look him in the face. His eyes, keen and kindly, were searching hers, and she found she could not meet them.

“I–I don’t know what brought you,” she said, in a very low voice.

She felt the arm that supported her grow rigid, and guessed that he was putting force upon himself as he made reply.

“Let me explain,” he said. “You sent me a cablegram which said, ‘Please cancel engagement.’ Naturally that had but one meaning for me–you and Jim Willowby had got the better of your difficulties, and were going to be married. In the capacity of friend, I received the news with rejoicing. So I cabled back ‘Delighted.’ Soon after that came a letter from Jim to tell me you had thrown him over. Now, why?”

She answered him with her head bent:

“I found that I didn’t care for him quite in that way.”

Cheveril did not speak for several seconds. Then, abruptly, he said:

“There is another fellow in the business.”

She made a slight gesture of appeal, and remained silent.

He leaned forward slowly at length, and laid his hand upon both of hers.

“Evelyn,” he said very gently, “will you tell me his name?”

She shook her head instantly. Her lips were quivering, and she bit them desperately.

He waited, but no word came. Outside, the roaring of the sea was terrible and insistent. The great sound sent a shudder through the girl. She shrank closer to the cold stone.