"Who are you?" I asked; "what is my love's safety to you?"
"Everything, Jasper Pennington," he replied; "I am Naomi Penryn's father."
"What!" I said aghast.
"Yes," he repeated, "I am Naomi Penryn's father. Come hither, Jasper Pennington, and let me tell you."
He led me away from Eli, who uttered strange, low sounds, as he always did when he was excited, and then the man whom I had thought mad spoke to me in low, earnest tones.
"You have heard my story, Jasper Pennington," he said—"heard how I struck my wife when she was in a perilous condition. It is true. I thought I had killed her, and since then I have never had an hour's peace. I will not tell you what I have done since or where I have been, except that I have been in hell. You thought me mad—perhaps I have been; I think I have. A little while ago I was drawn to come back to Trevose, but I was afraid to ask any questions. I seemed to be followed by the powers of darkness, who forbade me to speak. And yet I was fascinated to the spot. You can guess why. I need not tell you anything else now, you know what I would say. The thought that I have a daughter alive and that I did not kill my wife has made the world new."
"And you did not commit suicide, then?" I said, in an unmeaning, foolish sort of way.
"No. Coward that I was, I ran away, and for years, years—nearly twenty now—I have been followed by—but never mind, it is gone—all gone. Only let us go! You love my child, Jasper Pennington. Come, let us find her."
"Yes, yes," I replied; "but why did you follow me here?"
"Why? In my madness I felt sure that you had the secret of my life's joy, and because my life has been such that I could not bear you to obtain that which is the price of lost souls. I—I have been—where I have heard the history of that thing which lies under water. It is not a treasure, Jasper Pennington, it is damnation. Perhaps I will tell you more some day, but not now. Let us leave the island."