us of going to sea. Forget the past.
Forget that you are the heir to a fine estate, forget that you have
given up all for love."

But I could not do this. True, there was a sense in which all seemed
like a dream, so that the past was misty; but above all was the fact of
my great and burning love for Ruth, a love so intense as to lead me to
sacrifice everything that she might be happy with the man whom she
loved, and whom I hated, although he was my brother.

The thought was madness. My sacrifice seemed madness, and once I
thought of going back again. That, however, was soon banished, for
although my coming away might be the action of one who did not know
what he was doing, to go back would be to strike despair and anguish
into the heart of Ruth, and that would be hell for me.

No, I had fought that battle. I had made Ruth happy. I should soon
become as nothing to them, and thus Wilfred and my mother would have
their own way, and be joyous because I was no more. That was
something, and yet I was sure that Wilfred had schemed for such an end.
What definite reason I had for this I could not tell, but I was sure of
it, and I hated him. True, I had gone away freely, and yet I had been
driven away; things had been so arranged that I could not stay to be a
skeleton at the feast, a hindrance to all joy.

I ceased to think about it at length, and tried to bring myself into
harmony with my surroundings. What should I call myself? I could not
ask for a sailor's position as Roger Trewinion, and yet I did not like
to give up my name. Finally I decided to call myself Richard
Tretheway. It was a very common name, and by this name I should still
retain my initials. Where I came from was a matter of little
importance; there were lots of little fishing villages all the way down
the coast; so I settled on one near my old home, and made my way to the
riverside where some vessels lay. The captain of one of them struck my
attention in a minute. He stood quietly watching some men who were
loading the boat with corn. He was not swearing or bullying as some of
the others were, and I determined to speak to him.

"And what may you want, my lad?" he said as I went up to him.

"A job, sir," I said, with a strong Cornish accent.

He looked at me keenly. "What can you do?" he said.

I named the work I could do on a ship.

"Let's have a look at your hands?" he said.

I showed him my hands. They were not so soft as those of