I do not want to see you again . Now , go back to your own world . '' Esterbrook Elliott slowly turned from her and walked in silence back to the shore . In the shadows of the point he stopped to look back at her , standing out like some inspired prophetess against the fiery background of the sunset sky and silver-blue water . The sky overhead was thick-sown with stars ; the night breeze was blowing up from its lair in distant , echoing sea caves . On his right the lights of the Cove twinkled out through the dusk . `` I feel like a coward and a traitor , '' he said slowly . `` Good God , what is this madness that has come over me ? Is this my boasted strength of manhood ? '' A moment later the hoof beats of his horse died away up the shore . Magdalen Crawford lingered on the point until the last dull red faded out into the violet gloom of the June sea dusk , than which nothing can be rarer or diviner , and listened to the moan and murmur of the sea far out over the bay with sorrowful eyes and sternly set lips . The next day , when the afternoon sun hung hot and heavy over the water , Esterbrook Elliott came again to the Cove . He found it deserted . A rumour of mackerel had come , and every boat had sailed out in the rose-red dawn to the fishing grounds . But down on a strip of sparkling yellow sand he saw Magdalen Crawford standing , her hand on the rope that fastened a small white dory to the fragment of a half-embedded wreck . She was watching a huddle of gulls clustered on the tip of a narrow , sandy spit running out to the left . She turned at the sound of his hurried foot-fall behind her . Her face paled slightly , and into the depths of her eyes leapt a passionate , mesmeric glow that faded as quickly as it came . `` You see I have come back in spite of your command , Magdalen . '' `` I do see it , '' she answered in a gravely troubled voice .
`` You are a madman who refuses XXXXX be warned . ''
On as at from over than through to until with