the slope that overlooked Rufus's cottage and the Spear Point. The girl
stood a moment gazing out over the curving reef as if she had not seen
it. The pool was smooth as a mirror, and reflecting the drifting clouds.
The tide was out. But, stay! It must be on the turn, for as she stood,
there came the deep, tolling note of the bell-buoy. It sounded like a
knell.

As it struck solemnly over the water, the man straightened himself, and
in a moment he saw her.

He did not move to meet her, merely stood motionless, nearly knee-deep
in the bog-myrtle, and waited for her, the white roses in one great,
clenched hand. And she, as if compelled, moved towards him, till at last
she reached and stood before him, white, mute, passive as a prisoner in
iron fetters.

It was the man who spoke, with an odd jerkiness of tone and demeanour
that might have indicated embarrassment or even possibly some deeper
emotion. "So you've come along at last!" he said.

She nodded. For an instant her dark eyes were raised, but they flashed
downwards again immediately, almost before they had met his own.

Abruptly he thrust out to her the flowers he held. "I was getting these
for you."

She took them in a trembling hand. She bent her face over them to hide
the piteous quivering of her lips. "Why--do you get them?" she whispered
almost inarticulately.