“God forgive me, it’s Mr. Eustace! Oh, dear sir, I took you for one of Sir Richard’s men! Oh, sir, you’re hurt!”

“A scratch, a scratch!” almost moaned Eustace. “Help me into the boat, Jack. Gentlemen, I must with you.”

“Not with us, surely, my dear son, vagabonds upon the face of the earth?” said kind-hearted Campian.

“With you, forever. All is over here. Whither God and the cause lead”—and he staggered toward the boat.

As he passed Rose, she saw his ghastly bleeding face, half bound up with a handkerchief, which could not conceal the convulsions of rage, shame, and despair, which twisted it from all its usual beauty. His eyes glared wildly round—and once, right into the cavern. They met hers, so full, and keen, and dreadful, that forgetting she was utterly invisible, the terrified girl was on the point of shrieking aloud.

“He has overlooked me!” said she, shuddering to herself, as she recollected his threat of yesterday.

“Who has wounded you?” asked Campian.

“My cousin—Amyas—and taken the letter!”

“The devil take him, then!” cried Parsons, stamping up and down upon the sand in fury.

“Ay, curse him—you may! I dare not! He saved me—sent me here!”— and with a groan, he made an effort to enter the boat.

“Oh, my dear young gentleman,” cried Lucy Passmore, her woman’s heart bursting out at the sight of pain, “you must not goo forth with a grane wound like to that. Do ye let me just bind mun up—do ye now!” and she advanced.

Eustace thrust her back.

“No! better bear it, I deserve it—devils! I deserve it! On board, or we shall all be lost—William Cary is close behind me!”

And at that news the boat was thrust into the sea, faster than ever it went before, and only in time; for it was but just round the rocks, and out of sight, when the rattle of Cary’s horsehoofs was heard above.

“That rascal of Mr. Leigh’s will catch it now, the Popish villain!” said Lucy Passmore, aloud. “You lie still there, dear life, and settle your sperrits; you’m so safe as ever was rabbit to burrow. I’ll see what happens, if I die for it!” And so saying, she squeezed herself up through a cleft to a higher ledge, from whence she could see what passed in the valley.

“There mun is! in the meadow, trying to catch the horses! There comes Mr. Cary! Goodness, Father, how a rid’th! he’s over wall already! Ron, Jack! ron then! A’ll get to the river! No, a wain’t! Goodness, Father! There’s Mr. Cary cotched mun! A’s down, a’s down!”

“Is he dead?” asked Rose, shuddering.

“Iss, fegs, dead as nits! and Mr. Cary off his horse, standing overthwart mun! No, a bain’t! A’s up now. Suspose he was hit wi’ the flat. Whatever is Mr. Cary tu? Telling wi’ mun, a bit. Oh dear, dear, dear!”

“Has he killed him?” cried poor Rose.