grieve should any of the many mishaps
befall you which so often overtake those who voyage on the treacherous
ocean."

"My father knows that I must seek my fortune in some calling or other,
and he would be well pleased were I to come back with a goodly store of
the gold of Golconda to restore the impoverished fortunes of our house,"
answered Roger, still looking eagerly towards the approaching ship.

"Day-dreams, my friend, day-dreams,--natural enough, but very unlikely
to come true," said Stephen in a somewhat sententious tone, such as he
considered became one of his mature years. If the truth were to have
been known, however, Master Stephen Battiscombe was apt to indulge in
day-dreams himself, though of a different character--a judge's wig and
robes, or even a seat on the Woolsack, were not beyond his aspirations.
He now added, "But we must stop talking here longer. See, the sun is
already at his height in the heavens; an we delay the Colonel and Madam
Pauline will be justly chiding us for being late to dinner."

"I am ready," answered Roger, still, however, lingering and watching the
ship in the offing. "But tell me, what cause brought you to Eversden
this morning?"

"I came over to ask you to return with me to Langton, that you might
join us in making war on the young rooks, which have increased too
greatly in our woods of late. Not finding you, I would fain, I own,
have remained in the house to enjoy the society of sweet Mistress Alice,
but Madame Pauline, cruelly insisting that she required her aid in the
manufacture of some conserves, sent me out to search for you."

"I am bound to be grateful to you for coming, whether willingly or not,
to look for me, or I might have remained in my nest mayhap till the sun
had sunk behind Beer Head out yonder," said Roger, beginning to climb up
the cliff. "I would gladly, however, remain till the ship comes near
enough to let us get a better sight of her."

To this, however, Stephen would not consent, for the reason he had
already given, and Roger also well knew that his uncle, Colonel
Tregellen, would be displeased should they not appear at the regular
dinner-hour.

Roger Willoughby's cosy nook, as he called it, was a small hollow in the
cliff a few feet from the summit, surrounded by a thick growth of purple
bramble, scented clematis, pink thorn, and other shrubs, which formed a
complete shelter from all but southerly winds, and likewise concealed it
from any one