"Faith, I hardly know myself," he answered, with a strange, jarring laugh. "It is all your fault: you have ruined me, body and soul."
Ella cast an imploring glance towards the distant shore. She was growing desperately frightened. Again his mood changed to tenderness.
"Oh, my sweet mistress, is there no hope for me?" he wailed. "Is there none, none? No man else could love you as I love; no heart could be as faithful as mine would be."
"Hubert Stone, enough of this," cried Ella, her fears merged in her indignation. "Once and for all, understand that you could never be anything to me in the way you speak of. If you have the slightest spark of honour, you will not persecute me further."
There was scorn in her voice and indignation in her eyes, but never had he seen her look more beautiful than at that moment.
"I wish the lightning of your eyes could strike me dead at your feet," he exclaimed. "It would be better both for you and me. I know it is useless to ask for that which it is not in your power to give. Your secret is known to me, Miss Winter, well hidden though it be. You love another, and you believe that he loves you in return."
She opened her lips to answer, but closed them again. A lovely colour flushed the alabaster of her cheeks.
Close to the bulwarks she had drawn now, and could get no farther away. He stepped nearer, and laid one finger lightly on her arm.
"I heard all that passed between you and him the other evening," he said, staring straight into her eyes.
"All that passed between _whom?_" gasped Ella.