Smeaton was inclined to seize the opportunity eagerly; but a moment's reflection showed him that, by giving his humble friend even a single letter, he might endanger the good man's safety, if he should fall into the hands of the enemy. He therefore called him aside, and charged him with a few words to Emmeline. They were sad as well as few; for his own expectations were all dark and gloomy, and he did not wish to raise up hopes which he felt certain would be disappointed. He said little more to Van Noost, and that was by way of warning. He urged him strongly to give himself up voluntarily to any magistrate, if he found the least difficulty in making his escape through the country; to submit unconditionally, but at the same time to avoid making any statements which could either betray the condition of those with whom he had been in companionship, or deprive them of any advantages in the present or the future. He then retired to his chamber, saying he was fatigued, and would seek rest; but the rest he took, though he might find bodily repose, was not that of the mind. He slept not at all for the next three hours, but remained seated motionless, near the window, in deep thought. CHAPTER XXXVII. At an early hour in the morning of Saturday, the twelfth of November, a good deal of bustle and commotion filled the streets of Preston. Private gentlemen and military officers were seen running hither and thither; and all who had command of regiments or squadrons, as their little bodies of men were called, received a summons to attend a council at General Forster's quarters at the Mitre inn. The Earl of Eskdale was not one of these, however. He had refused all command, notwithstanding pressing importunities; for his military skill had been seen and appreciated, even by those who would not follow his advice in the time of action. Nor was he, to say the truth, even up at the hour when this bustle began; for, as I have shown in the preceding chapter, he had been watchful and sleepless during the greater part of the night; and, when he did at length lie down to rest, fatigue brought on a deep and lasting slumber, from which all the noises of the awakening town were hardly sufficient to rouse him. He had, it is true, many bitter and painful thoughts to deal with in his waking hours; but those thoughts had little to do with the conduct of the expedition in which he was engaged; and over him, as over a great many others who had joined the ill-starred enterprise, had come a sort of hopeless indifference, which left him little care of what might be the next move in the game of folly and madness then being played. About half past seven, however, his servant, Higham, entered the room where he slept, with a white and anxious countenance. Smeaton was up and partly dressed; and, looking quietly in the man's face, he said-- "Well, Higham, give me my sword. I suppose the Hanover troops are upon us, by your chop-fallen look."