"Well, God speed you, Harry!" said the one; "you have not failed me at
this pinch, though you have at many another."

"Where shall I write to you, Lennard," demanded the other, "in case that
anything should happen to turn up to your advantage?"

"Oh! to the Crown, to the Crown, at St. Germains," replied the elder;
"and if it be for anything to my advantage, write as quickly as
possible, good cousin.--Come, Wilton, my boy; come, here's the boat!
Thank God we have not much baggage to embark.--Now, my man," he
continued, speaking to one of the fishermen who had leaped out into the
water, "lift the boy in, and the portmanteau, and then off to yonder
brig, with all the sail you can put on."

Thus saying, he sprang into the boat, received the boy in his arms, and
waved his hand to his cousin, while the fishermen pushed off from the
shore.

The one who was left behind folded his arms upon his chest, and gazed
after the boat as she bounded over the water. His brow was slightly
clouded, and a peculiar sort of smile hung upon his lip; but after thus
pausing for a minute or two, he turned upon his heel, walked up a narrow
path to the top of the cliff, and mounting a horse which was held for
him by a servant, at a distance of about a hundred yards from the edge,
he rode away, whistling as he went, not like Cimon, for want of thought,
but from the very intensity of thought.