But he could not start
that day, for work was to be done; and Charles Seabohn, lover
though he still was, had grown to be a man, and knew that work must
not be neglected even though the heart may be calling. So for a
day or two he stayed, and on the third night he dreamed of Mivanway
again, and this time she lay within the little chapel at Bristol
where, on Sunday mornings, he had often sat with her. He heard her
father's voice reading the burial service over her, and the sister
she had loved best was sitting beside him, crying softly. Then
Charles knew that there was no need for him to hasten. So he
remained to finish his work. That done, he would return to
England. He would like again to stand upon the cliffs, above the
little Cornish village, where they had first met.
Thus a few months later Charles Seabohn, or Charles Denning, as he
called himself, aged and bronzed, not easily recognisable by those
who had not known him well, walked into the Cromlech Arms, as six
years before he had walked in with his knapsack on his back, and
asked for a room, saying he would be stopping in the village for a
short while.
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