the window. Suddenly he cried, piercingly: "Bessie--I see you. I'll tell
Harry."

She made a movement as if to run away, but stopped and raised her hands
to her temples. Young Hagberd, shadowy and big, stirred no more than a
man of bronze. Over their heads the crazy night whimpered and scolded in
an old man's voice.

"Send him away, my dear. He's only a vagabond. What you want is a good
home of your own. That chap has no home--he's not like Harry. He can't
be Harry. Harry is coming to-morrow. Do you hear? One day more," he
babbled more excitedly; "never you fear--Harry shall marry you."

His voice rose very shrill and mad against the regular deep soughing of
the swell coiling heavily about the outer face of the sea-wall.

"He will have to. I shall make him, or if not"--he swore a great
oath--"I'll cut him off with a shilling to-morrow, and leave everything
to you. I shall. To you. Let him starve."

The window rattled down.

Harry drew a deep breath, and took one step toward Bessie. "So it's
you--the girl," he said, in a lowered voice. She had not moved, and she
remained half turned away from him, pressing her head in the palms of
her hands. "My word!" he continued, with an invisible half-smile on his
lips. "I have a great mind to stop. . . ."

Her elbows were trembling violently.