Marian asked him to remain for the evening , but he pleaded some excuse . `` I shall come tomorrow afternoon , '' he said , as he stooped to drop a careless good-bye kiss on her face . Marian watched him wistfully as he rode away , with an unaccountable pain in her heart . She felt more acutely than ever that there were depths in her lover 's nature that she was powerless to stir into responsive life . Had any other that power ? She thought of the girl at the Cove , with her deep eyes and wonderful face . A chill of premonitory fear seized upon her . `` I feel exactly as if Esterbrook had gone away from me forever , '' she said slowly to herself , stooping to brush her cheek against a dew-cold , milk-white acacia bloom , `` and would never come back to me again . If that could happen , I wonder what there would be left to live for ? '' * * * * * Esterbrook Elliott meant , or honestly thought he meant , to go home when he left Marian . Nevertheless , when he reached the road branching off to the Cove he turned his horse down it with a flush on his dark cheek . He realized that the motive of the action was disloyal to Marian and he felt ashamed of his weakness . But the desire to see Magdalen Crawford once more and to look into the depths of her eyes was stronger than all else , and overpowered every throb of duty and resistance . He saw nothing of her when he reached the Cove . He could think of no excuse for calling at the Barrett cottage , so he rode slowly past the hamlet and along the shore . The sun , red as a smouldering ember , was half buried in the silken violet rim of the sea ; the west was a vast lake of saffron and rose and ethereal green , through which floated the curved shallop of a thin new moon , slowly deepening from lustreless white , through gleaming silver , into burnished gold , and attended by one solitary , pearl-white star . The vast concave of sky above was of violet , infinite and flawless . Far out dusky amethystine islets clustered like gems on the shining breast of the bay . The little pools of water along the low shores glowed like mirrors of polished jacinth . The small , pine-fringed headlands ran out into the water , cutting its lustrous blue expanse like purple wedges .
As Esterbrook turned one XXXXX them he saw Magdalen standing out on the point of the next , a short distance away .
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