Jeff promised; but of course he did not do exactly as his nurse wished, for, in such circumstances, the word "far" has a wonderfully varied significance. At first, leaning on his stick and pausing frequently to recover strength, he made his way to the shore; but when there, the invigorating air and the exhilarating sound of ripples on the sand, and a rest on the rocks, made him feel so much better, that he thought he might walk the length of the shell-cave without breaking his promise. He tried, and succeeded, but was so fatigued, when at length he threw himself on the soft sand at the cave's mouth, that he felt uneasy about getting home again. The shell-cave was a favourite nook in a lonely part of the cliffs, which Jeff had been wont to frequent in his coastguard days, especially at that particular time when he seemed to expect the revival of the smuggling traffic near Miss Millet's cottage. He had frequently spoken of it to Rose as a beautiful spot where innumerable sea-shells were to be found, and had once taken her to see it. It was, as we have said, a lonely spot, far removed from the fishing town, and was sought out by Jeff because he did not yet feel strong enough to hold much intercourse with his friends and former mates--none of whom had seen him since his illness began. But the poor invalid was doomed to several interruptions that day. The first comer was his comrade Wilson, of the coastguard, whose place he had taken on the eventful night of the wreck. On rounding the point of rock, and coming suddenly on our hero, that worthy was struck dumb and motionless for at least a minute, while his eyes gradually opened wide with surprise, and his mouth partially followed suit. "Not Jeff Benson!" said Wilson at last, in quite a solemn tone. "What's left of him," answered Jeff, with a faint smile. "An' it ain't much!" returned Wilson, with a kind of gasp, as he approached softly. "Not much more than the bones an' clothes," said Jeff, with a laugh at his friend's expression; "also," he added more seriously, "a good deal of the spirit, thank God. How are all the lads, Wilson?" The man tried to answer, but could not. The sight of his old stalwart chum so reduced was too much for him. He could only go down on one knee, and take the thin large hand in his. Seeing this, Jeff returned his squeeze, and relieved him by saying-- "You can beat me now, Wilson, but I could squeeze till I made you howl once, and mayhap I'll do it again--who knows? But you must not think me unkind if I ask you to leave me, Wilson. The Doctor is always insisting that I must keep quiet; so, good-day to you, my boy, an' remember me kindly to my comrades."