"We don't care much for our own lives either, my lord," said the fisherman; "but I think you would find it a hard matter to get any one to go off with you to-night, especially if there is to be a lady in the boat."
"Then I suppose I shall have to come down to-morrow?" whispered Parson Thickett to the young nobleman, near whom he was sitting.
"No, no, my reverend friend," replied Smeaton. "Your office can be performed in a hurricane as well as in the calmest weather; and, in a few minutes, we will go to the place where your assistance will be necessary. We must, however, have the cottage clear first, and obtain intelligence that all is safe."
"Ay, ay," added the parson. "Make sure of that."
After staying a few minutes, conversing with his uncle, the younger Grayling went away with the other man who had accompanied him; and, soon after, the children were sent to their beds. Smeaton looked anxiously at his watch; and then, gazing out at the door, he said--
"I think my servant is coming now."
But he was disappointed. A man arrived who was a bearer of what, to Smeaton, was bad news. The new comer was a stout peasant, of a somewhat superior class, who looked round, shook hands with old Grayling and his wife, whom he called uncle and aunt, and then, doffing his hat, advanced to the young nobleman, and presented him a letter.
"That, my lord, is from Farmer Thompson, my cousin," he said. "I undertook to bring it over; for we find that some of our people are not to be trusted."
Smeaton broke open the letter, and read the contents with an anxious eye, and a look of considerable emotion.
"What is all this?" he said, at length. "I do not understand it."