"It is partly connected with property."
"The property that you told me might come to you by inheritance?"
"Yes. The coming seems very far off, though; farther than ever: and I--I am doing myself no good by staying."
"No good!" exclaimed Ethel, in surprise.
"In one sense I am not: individually, I am not. For, each day that I stay will only serve to render the pain of departing more intolerable."
Their eyes met. Ethel was at no loss to understand. Whether he meant her to or not he could scarcely have decided. But for exercising some self-control, he must have spoken out plainly. And yet, to what end? This fair girl might never become more to him than she was now, and their mutual love would be flung away to die on the shoals of adverse fate; as three parts of first love is in this world.
He released her when they were on level ground, and walked side by side with her as far as Chapel Lane, Ethel's way home to-day. There they stood to shake hands.
"I wonder if we shall ever again sit together watching a sea such as this has been!" he said, retaining her hand, and gazing down at her conscious face.
"We do not get a sea like this above once or twice a year."
"No. And when you get it next, nothing may be left of me here but the memory. Good-bye, Ethel."