'See, Winefred, I have had bitter thoughts of you, but they have all passed away like the morning mist. We were both entangled in a fog of misunderstandings. Now the sun is out and shines on both our heads and down into both our hearts, and all within as without is light.'
But again she expressed dissent. It was not light in her heart. In its depths lay the hateful thought of her mother's wrong-doing.
'Do not concern yourself about the matter of the choughs,' said he, misunderstanding her, 'I went over the cliff of my own accord. I was glad of the excuse. Ever since I have broken with the smugglers I have had trouble with the young fellows of Beer. They have sneered at me as wanting in pluck. They could not account otherwise for my withdrawal. So I was glad to catch at a chance of showing that I still had a cool head and stout heart. It was nothing in itself, but it served my purpose. Winefred, it was you yourself who advised me to have done with smuggling. I have kept my word to you, but it has involved me in unpleasantness, and I am thankful to you for having given me the occasion for doing something which may possibly help to set me right in public opinion at Beer.'
She shuddered.
'Oh, God have mercy on me!' she said, with a new outburst of compunction. 'I did it in malice, because I thought that I hated you.'
'Winefred, but for this we should not have met as we meet now. I should have gone on thinking that you hated me.'
'And I—I quite believed that I did hate you.'
'Now you know better. But for these choughs you would have been believing the same now and evermore.'
Then, after a long pause, he said, 'We have each something to forgive and much to unlearn. I, at one time, really did suppose that your mother had stolen my inheritance.'
She uttered a cry and shrank from him.