"We are too late," he said. "Pauline, you had better stay here. I will
go on and find him."

She shook her head.

"I am coming," she said. "It is my fault!--it is my fault!"

He held out his hand.

"Pauline," he said, "it may not be a fit sight for you. Sit here. If
you can do any good, I will call to you."

She brushed him aside and began to run. With her slight start she
outdistanced him, and when he scrambled up to the top, she was already
on her knees, kneeling down over the crouching form.

"He is not dead," she cried. "Quick! Tell me where the wound is."

Rochester stooped down on the other side, and Saton opened his eyes
slowly.

"I am a bungler, as usual!" he said.

Rochester opened his coat carefully.

"He has shot himself in the shoulder," he said to Pauline. "It is not
serious."

Saton pointed to the rock.

"Lift me up a little," he said. "I want to sit there, with my back to
it. Carefully!"

Rochester did as he was bid. Then he took his handkerchief and tried
to staunch the blood.

"I don't know why you came," Saton faltered--"you especially," he
added to Rochester. "Haven't you had all the triumph you wanted?
Couldn't you have left me alone to spend this last hour my own way? I
wanted to learn how to die without fear or any regret. Here I can do
it, because it is easier here to realize that failure such as mine is
death."

"We came to try and save you," said Rochester quietly.

"To save you!" Pauline sobbed. "Oh! Bertrand, I am sorry--I am very,
very sorry!"

He looked at her in slow surprise.

"That is kind of you," he said. "It is kind of you to care. You know
now what sort of a creature I am. You know that he was right--this
man, I mean--when he warned you against me, when he told you that I
was something rotten, something not worth your notice. Give me the
revolver again."

Rochester thrust it in his pocket, shaking his head.

"My young friend, I think not," he said. "Listen. I have no more
to say about the past. I am prepared to accept my share of the
responsibility of it. You are still young. There is still time for you
to weave fresh dreams, to live a new life. Make another start. No!
Don't be afraid that I'm going to offer you my help. There was a curse
upon that. But nevertheless, make your start. It isn't I who wish it.
It is--Pauline."

Saton looked at her wonderingly.

"She doesn't care," he said. "She knows now that I am really a
charlatan. And I needn't have