Hamel awoke to find his room filled with sunshine and a soft wind blowing in through the open window. There was a pleasant odour of coffee floating up from the kitchen. He looked at his watch - it was past eight o'clock. The sea was glittering and bespangled with sunlight. He found among his scanty belongings a bathing suit, and, wrapped in his overcoat, hurried down-stairs.
"Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox," he called out.
She stood at the door, watching him as he stepped across the pebbles and plunged in. For a few moments he swam. Then he turned over on his back. The sunlight was gleaming from every window of St. David's Hall. He even fancied that upon the terrace he could see a white-clad figure looking towards him. He turned over and swam once more. From her place in the doorway Mrs. Cox called out to him.
"Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!"
He waved his hand. The splendid exhilaration of the salt water seemed to give him unlimited courage. He dived, but the woman's cry of fear soon recalled him. Presently he swam to shore and hurried up the beach. Mrs. Cox, with a sigh of relief, disappeared into the kitchen.
"Those rocks on your nerves again, Mrs. Cox?" he asked, good-humouredly, as he took his place at the breakfast table a quarter of an hour later.
"It's only us who live here, sir," she answered, "who know how terrible they are. There s one - it comes up like my hand - a long spike. A boat once struck upon that, and it's as though it'd been sawn through the middle."
"I must have a look at them some day," he declared. "I am going to work this morning, Mrs. Cox. Lunch at one o'clock."
He took rugs and established himself with a pile of books at the back of a grassy knoll, sheltered from the wind, with the sea almost at his feet. He sharpened his pencil and numbered the page of his notebook. Then he looked up towards the Hall garden and found himself dreaming. The sunshine was delicious, and a gentle optimism seemed to steal over him.
"I am a fool!" he murmured to himself. "I am catching some part of these people's folly. Mr. Fentolin is only an ordinary, crotchety invalid with queer tastes. On the big things he is probably like other men. I shall go to him this morning.
A sea-gull screamed over his head. Little, brown sailed fishing-boats came gliding down the harbourway. A pleasant, sensuous joyfulness seemed part of the spirit of the day. Hamel stretched himself out upon the dry sand.
"Work be hanged!" he exclaimed.
A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was becoming very familiar.
"A most admirable sentiment, my young friend, which you seem to be doing your best to live up to. Not a line written, I see."
He sat up upon his rug. Mr. Fentolin, in his little carriage, was there by his side. Behind was the faithful Meekins, with an easel under his arm.
"I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant one?" Mr. Fentolin asked.
"I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. "Glad to see you're going to paint."
Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily.
"It is, alas!" he declared, "one of my weaknesses. I can work only in solitude. I came down on the chance that the fine weather might have tempted you over to the Golf Club. As it is, I shall return."
"I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. "Can't I go out of sight somewhere?"
Mr. Fentolin sighed.
"I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours," he continued, a little sadly. "Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait."
"It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel remarked. "You see, I might stay here for some time."
Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the young man with a sort of pensive wrath.
"If," the latter went on, "you say 'yes' to something I am going to ask you, I might even stay - in the neighbourhood - for longer still."
Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were fixed upon Hamel.
"What is it that you are going to ask me?" be demanded.
"I want to marry your niece.
Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise.
"A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?" he murmured.
"Not at all," Hamel assured him. "I have been ten years looking for her."
"And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. "What does she say?"
"I believe, sir," Hamel replied, "that she would be willing."
Mr. Fentolin sighed.
"One is forced sometimes," he remarked regretfully, "to realise the selfishness of our young people. For many years one devotes oneself to providing them with all the comforts and luxuries of life. Then, in a single day, they turn around and give everything they have to give to a stranger. So you want to marry Esther?"
"If you please."
"She has a very moderate fortune."
"She need have none at all," Hamel replied; "I have enough."
Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house.
"Then," he said, "I think you had better go and tell her so; in which case, I shall be able to paint."
"I have your permission, then?" Hamel asked, rising to his feet eagerly.
"Negatively," Mr. Fentolin agreed, "you have. I cannot refuse.
Esther is of age; the thing is reasonable. I do not know whether she will be happy with you or not. A young man of your disposition who declines to study the whims of an unfortunate creature like myself is scarcely likely to be possessed of much sensibility. However, perhaps your views as to a solitary residence here will change with your engagement to my niece."
Hamel did not reply for a moment. He was trying to ask himself why, even in the midst of this rush of anticipatory happiness, he should be conscious of a certain reluctance to leave the Tower - and Mr. Fentolin. He was looking longingly towards the Hall. Mr.
Fentolin waved him away.
"Go and make love," he ordered, "and leave me alone. We are both in pursuit of beauty - only our methods differ."
