imes nearly covered
it, and at others left it standing ill all its majesty on the white,
hard sand.

"Surely," I thought, "God has been lavish of His grandeur here," and
even as this came into my mind the relentlessness and the cruelty of the
sea impressed me. Everything made me feel my littleness, my impotence. A
strong man would be but as a bit of rotten wood if he were thrown into
it; those cliffs would beat the life out of him, while the white foam,
which looked so soft and inviting, covered that which would smash the
sides of a boat as easily as a man snaps a piece of wood across his
knee.

A feeling of despair possessed me again, for I was utterly lonely. It is
true Eli stood by my side saying loving words and fondling me, while the
stranger walked to and fro the cave; but no one felt my grief or
understood it. By-and-by, however, my mood began to change; the roaring
sea, the gray, leaden sky, the mighty cliffs inspired me, they urged me
to action. I must find out the truth about Naomi; ay, I must find her,
for, standing there that morning, I could not believe that she was dead.

A few minutes later I had made preparations to leave the cave and go
away from the neighbourhood of Bedruthen Steps.

"Where do you go, Jasper Pennington, and what are your plans?" asked the
stranger.

"That is a matter which concerns myself," I replied, not very
graciously. A moment later, however, I felt I had acted like a cur, for
this man had endangered his life to save mine, and but for him I might
not have been alive. "Forgive me," I continued; "my mind is much
distracted, and I scarcely know what I say."

"Perchance I could help you, if you would trust me," he said.

"I can scarcely trust myself," I replied, "much less a stranger."

"Am I stranger?" he cried, with an hysterical laugh, just as though he
were a madman.

"If you are not, who and what are you?" I asked. "What is your name?"

"Name!" he said, wildly. "Esau is my name, my true name."

"Why your true name?"

"Because I have sold my birthright."

"Your birthright! To whom did you sell it?"

"To the devil!" he cried, his eyes glittering. "My birthright was my
manhood; it was a clear conscience, it was the power to fearlessly think
of the past, and to--" He stopped suddenly, then he went on again:
"Perhaps Cain is the truer name, but I know not; call me Esau."

"Yes, he's mad," I said to myself. "I can trust him with
nothing--nothing." Still, I humoured hi