he ashes of tradition a new Utopia, of
which a few men dreamed, but which none had the power to establish.

In the distance two figures were approaching "The Fisherman's Rest":
one, an oldish man, with a curious fringe of grey hairs round a rotund
and massive chin, and who walked with that peculiar rolling gait which
invariably betrays the seafaring man: the other, a young, slight figure,
neatly and becomingly dressed in a dark, many caped overcoat; he was
clean-shaved, and his dark hair was taken well back over a clear and
noble forehead.

"Armand!" said Marguerite Blakeney, as soon as she saw him approaching
from the distance, and a happy smile shone on her sweet face, even
through the tears.

A minute or two later brother and sister were locked in each other's
arms, while the old skipper stood respectfully on one side.

"How much time have we got, Briggs?" asked Lady Blakeney, "before M. St.
Just need go on board?"

"We ought to weigh anchor before half an hour, your ladyship," replied
the old man, pulling at his grey forelock.

Linking her arm in his, Marguerite led her brother towards the cliffs.

"Half an hour," she said, looking wistfully out to sea, "half an hour
more and you'll be far from me, Armand! Oh! I can't believe that you are
going, dear! These last few days--whilst Percy has been away, and I've
had you all to myself, have slipped by like a dream."

"I am not going far, sweet one," said the young man gently, "a narrow
channel to cross-a few miles of road--I can soon come back."

"Nay, 'tis not the distance, Armand--but that awful Paris . . . just now
. . ."

They had reached the edge of the cliff. The gentle sea-breeze blew
Marguerite's hair about her face, and sent the ends of her soft lace
fichu waving round her, like a white and supple snake. She tried to
pierce the distance far away, beyond which lay the shores of France:
that relentless and stern France which was exacting her pound of flesh,
the blood-tax from the noblest of her sons.

"Our own beautiful country, Marguerite," said Armand, who seemed to have
divined her thoughts.

"They are going too far, Armand," she said vehemently. "You are a
republican, so am I . . . we have the same thoughts, the same enthusiasm
for liberty and equality . . . but even YOU must think that they are
going too far . . ."

"Hush!--" said Armand, instinctively, as he threw a quick, apprehensive
glance around him.

"Ah! you see: you don't think yours