have nothing left that I believe in, except my living horror of myself.

Why do I come to you? I don't know; you are cold, cruel, hateful; and

I hate you, or I think I hate you. But you are an honest man, an honest

gentleman. I put myself, helpless, in your hands. What must I do? If I

can't do anything, be merciful and put a bullet through me; it's only a

puppy with a broken leg!'

If I were you, I would pick up that pistol, come up to the house, and

put on some dry clothes,' said Attwater.

'If you really mean it?' said Herrick. 'You know they--we--they. .. But

you know all.'

'I know quite enough,' said Attwater. 'Come up to the house.'

And the captain, from the deck of the Farallone, saw the two men pass

together under the shadow of the grove.

168

The Ebb-Tide