I begged
you to come into the house, that I might hide you there, but you would
not. You had come for one thing, you said, and only one. An hour or two,
and then you must be gone for London. And so you urged me to the beach. I
was afraid we might be seen, but you led me away from the cottages near
to the little bridge which crosses the dyke. By that way we came to the
sands, as we thought unnoted. But no, who should it be to see us but that
canting Baptist, Solby! And so the alarm was given. You had come, dear
Cousin Dick, to ask me one thing--if I loved you? and if, should you ever
be free to come back, I would be your wife? I did not answer you; I could
not answer you; and, when you pressed me, I begged you to have pity on me
and not to speak of it. You thought I was not brave enough to love a man
open to the law. As if--as if I knew not that what you did came out of a
generous, reckless heart. And on my knees--oh, on my knees--I ought to
have thanked you for it! But I knew not what to say; my lips were closed.
And just then shots were fired, and we saw the coast-guards' lights. Then
came Lancy Doane stumbling down the banks, and our parting--our parting.
Your bitter laugh as you left me has rung in my ears ever since.
"Do not think we have been idle here in your cause, for I myself went to
Earl Fitzwilliam and told him the whole story, and how you had come to
help Tom Doane that night.
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