"Alas! I am also a prisoner," replied Paul. "At this moment my wife is sorrowing alone in our cottage on the cliff, and she is looking vainly upon the sea expecting my return. How can I help you? Believe me, if it were possible, I would." At the recollection of Polly's situation Paul hastily brushed a tear from his eye with the back of his rough hand, which instantly awoke the sympathy of the sensitive girl before him.
"Ha! you are married," she exclaimed. "Is she young, and perhaps beautiful?"
"Young enough for me, and handsomer than most women," replied Paul.
At this moment Dick Stone had lighted his pipe, and as he gave two or three tremendous puffs he screwed his face into a profoundly serio- comic expression and winked his right eye mysteriously at Paul.
"I know the young man," said Dick, who now joined in the conversation, and addressed the jailer whom he had been scrutinizing closely; "I saw him once at the prison in Falmouth. Rather tall?" said Dick, as he surveyed the six-foot form of the jailer.
"Yes," said the jailer, eagerly, "as tall as I am."
"Black hair?" continued the impassive Dick, as he cast his eyes upon the raven locks of both father and daughter.
"Yes, as dark as mine," exclaimed the now excited jailer.
"Roman nose?" said Dick, as he looked at the decided form of the parent's feature that was shared by the handsome girl.
"Precisely so, well arched," replied the father.