"Come back... TO
LONDON... and face my trial! Why, did you think, Hubert, 'twas the court
or the hanging I was shirking? No, no; not that; but IT--the red horror!
I must get away from IT to the sea--to the water--to wash away the
stain--as far from IT--that red pool--as possible!"
I answered nothing. I left him to face his own remorse in silence.
At last he rose to go, and held one foot undecided on his bicycle.
"I leave myself in Heaven's hands," he said, as he lingered. "IT will
requite.... The ordeal is by water."
"So I judged," I answered.
"Tell Lina this from me," he went on, still loitering: "that if she will
trust me, I will strive to do the best that remains for my darlings. I
will do it, Heaven helping. She will know WHAT, to-morrow."
He mounted his machine and sailed off. My eyes followed him up the path
with sad forebodings.
All day long I loitered about the Gap. It consisted of two bays--the one
I had already seen, and another, divided from it by a saw-edge of rock.
In the further cove crouched a few low stone cottages. A broad-bottomed
sailing boat lay there, pulled up high on the beach. About three
o'clock, as I sat and watched, two men began to launch it.
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