I am not
your sort of fellow--I know that; but--you've known all along that I
loved you. I've been afraid to tell you so, but I would willingly shed
my life's blood for you."

"I hate a coward!" cried the girl.

"Yes, I've known that; but then, how dared I speak when a fellow like
Trevanion, heir to a title, and captain in a crack regiment, would give
his life to get you? What chance had I?"

"Then why do you tell me this now?"

"Because I can't help myself. Because--Nancy, is there any chance? I
know your father would be mad, but I wouldn't mind that a bit. Nancy,
is there any hope for me?"

Again the girl's lips became tremulous as she looked at the waves
lashing themselves to foam on the great black rocks, while the
sea-birds soared overhead. It was easy to see she was greatly moved,
although it was her nature to hide her feelings.

"I don't know, Bob."

It did not seem like Nancy's voice at all. It was almost hoarse, and
she had a difficulty in speaking.

"Don't know?" he repeated. "Then--then----"

"I want to speak plainly. Bob. I may hurt you, although--I'll try not
to. Yes, I have believed that--you cared for me. I suppose I've seen
it, and I expect I've been vexed that you've never told me. I--I
wanted you to."

"Wanted me to!" cried Bob. "You have never given me a chance.
And--and you always seemed to care for--for those other fellows."

"I wanted you to make your chances. If--if a man loves a girl, he
should dare anything to get her. Anything. What do I care about
Hector Trevanion? He hasn't a thought in his head above his latest
horse and his newest uniform. But how could I help being friendly with
him, when you--have always on the slightest pretext been ready to leave
me with him."

"And you wanted me all the time!" There was a note of joy and triumph
in his voice.

"I don't know," replied the girl. "I'll be absolutely frank with you,
Bob. You are not the sort of man I wanted to love. Yes, I'll admit
it--I wanted to love a soldier, a sailor, a man of action. I can never
admire a man who will be content to spend his days in a library poring
over old dusty books. That's why I have been angry when I've heard you
glorifying these useless old fossils. And yet--oh, Bob!" and the girl
concluded with a sob.

"Do you mean," and Bob's voice was tremulous, "that you cared for me
all the time, although you--you didn't like my plans for my future?
That you preferred me to Tre