he
had never seen before, and a brief sudden exclamation of thanksgiving
burst from the youth's lips, as he thought of how hopeless his case
would have been had the French vessel passed the lighthouse an hour
later than it did.

The contrast between the scene outside and that inside the Bell Rock
Lighthouse at that time was indeed striking. Outside there was madly
raging conflict; inside there were peace, comfort, security: Ruby, with
his arms folded, standing calmly in the doorway; Jamie Dove and Joe
Dumsby smoking and fiddling in the snug kitchen; George Forsyth reading
(the _Pilgrim's Progress_ mayhap, or _Robinson Crusoe_, for both works
were in the Bell Rock library) by the bright blaze of the crimson and
white lamps, high up in the crystal lantern.

If a magician had divided the tower in two from top to bottom while some
ship was staggering past before the gale, he would have presented to the
amazed mariners the most astonishing picture of "war without and peace
within" that the world ever saw!

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

MIDNIGHT CHAT IN A LANTERN.

"I'll have to borrow another shirt and pair of trousers from you, Dove,"
said Ruby with a laugh, as he returned to the kitchen.

"What! been having another swim?" exclaimed the smith.

"Not exactly, but you see I'm fond o' water. Come along, lad."

In a few minutes the clothes were changed, and Ruby was seated beside
Forsyth, asking him earnestly about his friends on shore.

"Ah! Ruby," said Forsyth, "I thought it would have killed your old
mother when she was told of your bein' caught by them sea-sharks, and
taken off to the wars. You must know I came to see a good deal of your
friends, through--through--hoot! what's the name? the fair-haired lass
that lives with--"

"Minnie?" suggested Ruby, who could not but wonder that any man living
should forget _her_ name for a moment.

"Ay, Minnie it is. She used to come to see my wife about some work they
wanted her to do, and I was now and again sent up with a message to the
cottage, and Captain Ogilvy always invited me in to take a glass out of
his old teapot. Your mother used to ask me ever so many questions about
you, an' what you used to say and do on the rock when this lighthouse
was buildin'. She looked so sad and pale, poor thing; I really thought
it would be all up with her, an' I believe it would, but for Minnie. It
was quite wonderful the way that girl cheered your mother up, by readin'
bits o'