"Yes," he answered, in good English. "It was no doing of mine. The waves threw me up. I wish to God I had been allowed to drown!" There was a slight foreign lisp in his accent which was rather pleasing. "Two good fishermen, who live round yonder point, pulled me out and cared for me—yet I could not honestly thank them for it."
"Ho! ho!" thought I, "here is a man of my own kidney. Why do you wish to be drowned?" I asked.
"Because," he cried, throwing out his long arms with a passionate, despairing gesture, "there—there in that blue smiling bay lies my soul, my treasure—everything that I loved and lived for."
"Well, well," I said. "People are ruined every day, but there's no use making a fuss about it. Let me inform you that this ground on which you walk is my ground, and that the sooner you take yourself off it the better pleased I shall be. One of you is quite trouble enough."
"One of us?" he gasped.
"Yes—if you could take her off with you I should be still more grateful."
He gazed at me for a moment as if hardly able to realise what I said, and then, with a wild cry, he
