Yet why not? By this time they had, perhaps, publicly announced themselves as lovers; and yet they dare not. My departure could not yet be regarded as a settled thing, and my mother had told me that Ruth would be true to her father's wish. As yet I must be regarded among them as Trewinion's heir, and thus she would look upon me as her future husband. How, then, could she be encouraging the man she loved, when she would regard it as a sin to do so?
But was it she, was it Wilfred?
The captain's glass was near me, and I seized it. I brought it to the right focus. I saw them plainly, Ruth and Wilfred standing side by side, with her hand resting on his arm. There could be no mistake.
Yes, she would know all by this time; she would know that I had given up everything for her happiness, and she had accepted it without a pang. She had come out alone with the man who had stepped into my place.
It was base ingratitude. She was not worthy the sacrifice. I would leave the vessel at Falmouth, go home, and destroy their plans; I would claim my own again. As for Wilfred, I would whip him like a dog, and drive him from the place.
I know my thoughts were confused, and unreasonable, but I think I was mad, for I stamped my foot in my rage.
I heard a noise behind me and turned round. The captain stood coolly watching me. Instantly, my position burst upon me, and I was confused.
"Well, Richard Tretheway," he said, "and what have you been using my glass for?"
"It is a fine old headland, sir, and I wanted to see it."
"Ay, and it's a fine old house on the cliff, eh. Whom does it belong to?"