lly to him whose advice he had
just treated with indifference, if not with disdain. This was not
hypocrisy, but a prudent adaptation of his means to his circumstances.

"_Bon, brave Etooelle_," he said, "your bags of bullets were welcome
friends, and they arrived at the right moment."

"Why, Captain Rule, in the Granite country we are never wasteful of our
means. You can always wait for the white of Englishmen's eyes in these
affairs. They're spiteful devils, on the whull, and seem to be
near-sighted to a man. They came so clus' at Bunker Hill, our folks--"

"_Bon_," repeated Raoul, feeling no wish to hear a thrice-told tale gone
through again, Bunker Hill invariably placing Ithuel on a great horse in
the way of bragging; for he not only imagined that great victory a New
England triumph, as in fact it was, but he was much disposed to
encourage the opinion that it was in a great measure "granite." "_Bon_,"
interrupted Raoul--"Bunkair was good;--_mais, les Roches aux Sirens_ is
bettair. If you have more_ de ces bulles_ load _encore_.

"What think you of this, Captain Rule?" asked the other, pointing up at
a little vane that began to flutter at the head of one of his masts.
"Here is the west wind, and an opportunity offers to be off. Let us take
wit, and run!"

Raoul started, and gazed at the heavens, the vane, and the surface of
the sea; the latter beginning to show a slightly ruffled surf ace. Then
his eye wandered toward Ghita. The girl had risen from her knees, and
her eyes followed his every movement. When they met his, with a sweet,
imploring smile, she pointed upward, as if beseeching him to pay the
debt of gratitude he owed to that dread Being who had as yet borne him
unharmed through the fray. He understood her meaning, kissed his hand in
affectionate gallantry, and turned toward Ithuel, to pursue the
discourse.

"It is too soon," he said. "We are impregnable here, and the wind is
still too light. An hour hence, and we will all go together."

Ithuel grumbled; but his commander heeded it not. The judgment of the
latter had decided right. The boats were rallying within musket-shot,
indifferent to the danger, and it was evident the attack was to be
renewed. To have attempted to escape at such an instant would have been
throwing away the great advantage of the ruins, and might have
endangered all, without benefiting any one.

In point of fact, Sir Frederick Dashwood had become keenly alive to a
sense of the d