only had two or three letters sending
him money, and saying that his father was quite well, but there was not
a word of returning; and it struck me old Jonas must have had means of
knowing that his son was still in the old cottage, or he would not have
gone on sending money without having an answer back.

The rumours about the war seemed to affect us less than ever, and I was
growing so accustomed to my busy life that I thought little of my old
amusements, save when now and then I went out for an evening's fishing
with Bigley, the old boat having been brought over from Ripplemouth,
none the worse for its trip.

The mine went on growing more productive, and, in spite of the great
expenses, it seemed as if my father would become a wealthy man. Lead
was sent one way, silver another, and when the latter accumulated, as we
were on the spot, my father dismissed his anxiety, and we were gradually
becoming lulled into a feeling of repose, save when Bigley talked about
his father, and then once more a little feeling of doubt and insecurity
would slip in, as might have been the case in the olden times when the
people near shore learned that some Saxon or Danish ship was hovering
about the coast.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE LANDING OF THE FRENCH.

It was nine months now since the scene, at the little bay, when one soft
spring evening Bigley and I were walking slowly back to the Gap, after
seeing Bob Chowne part of the way home to Ripplemouth. The feeling of
coming summer was in the air, the birds were singing in the oak woods
their last farewell to the day, and from time to time we startled some
thrush and spoiled his song.

Every now and then a rabbit gave us a glance at his furry coat as he
sprang along, but soon it grew so dark that all we saw after each rustle
was the speck of white which indicated his cottony tail, and soon even
that was invisible.

The thin sharp line of the new moon hung low in the west, and the sea
had quite a steely gleam in the dying day, while the stars were peeping
out and beginning to look at themselves in the glassy surface of the
sea.

Here and there we could see the coasting vessels going up and down the
Channel, and just beneath the sinking moon there was a larger vessel
coming up with the tide, but it was getting too dark to make out what it
was. We kept along by the cliff path, and as we came to the descent
that led to the cottage Bigley and I parted, little thinking what an
e