friendly with him, but it was the cool friendliness of
a cousin, and, somehow, Richard instinctively felt James Walsham was
the cause.

In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd to suppose that
his cousin could care for this fellow, whom she had only seen as an
awkward boy, who had been content to stop away from the house, and
never go near her for weeks. Still, though he told himself it was
absurd, he knew that it was so. When the conversation happened to turn
upon James, she seldom took any part in it; but Richard knew that it
was not from indifference as to the subject. There was a soft flush on
her cheek, a light in her eyes, which he had never been able to call
up; and, many a time, he had ground his teeth in silent rage, when the
squire and Mr. Wilks were discussing the news received in James's last
letter, and expressing their hopes that, ere long, he would be back
from foreign service.

Although by no means fond of encountering danger, Richard felt that he
would gladly pick an open quarrel with the man he regarded as his
rival, and shoot him like a dog--for in those days, duels were matters
of everyday occurrence--but there was no possibility of doing this, at
the present juncture; and, moreover, he knew that this would be the
worst possible way of ridding himself of him; for, were James to fall
by his hands, his chances of winning Aggie would be hopelessly
extinguished.

"No," he said to himself, "that is out of the question; but I will do
something. Come what may, he shall never go back to Sidmouth."

The squadron drifted up beyond Cap Rouge, and anchored, at the top of
the flood, an hour before daybreak. The gig was lowered, and James
Walsham, amid many good wishes and hearty farewells from the officers,
took his place in her, by the side of the midshipman.

"Look out for my signal," he said. "Any time, after today, you may see
it."

"We will see it if you make it, my boy," said the captain, who had come
on deck to see him off. "Don't you fear about that. If you make your
signal, you may rely upon it, our boat will be ashore for you that
night."

Another moment, and the boat pulled away from the side of the ship.

"Take it easy, lads," young Middleton said, "only just dip your oars in
the water. We have but three miles to row, with the stream, and don't
want to be there till the day begins to show."

The oars had been muffled, and, noiselessly, the boat dropped down the
stream, until