Instead of receiving it with pleasure, as he had expected, she simply looked at it with curiosity for an instant, and then, keeping it in her hand, she asked in her native tongue with intense feeling, "Have you seen Victor? My dear brother Victor, a prisoner in England?" "Silly girl," said the jailer, her father, "England is a large place, and there are too many French prisoners to make it likely that Victor should be known"; at the same time the feelings of the father yielded to a vague hope as he looked inquiringly at Paul. "There are many fine fellows," answered Paul, "who have had the misfortune to become prisoners of war, but they are all cared for, and receive every attention in England. When was your brother taken?" he asked, as he turned to the handsome dark-eyed girl who had just questioned him. [Illustration: HE SLIPPED A GUINEA INTO HER HAND] "A year ago next Christmas," she replied; "and we have only once heard from him; he was then at a place called Falmouth, but we do not know where that is." "Falmouth!" said Paul; "why, I know the place well; with a fair wind the 'Polly' would make it in a few hours from the spot where I live. Your brother then is imprisoned only half a day's sail from my house!" "Oh! what good fortune, _mon Dieu,_" exclaimed the excited girl, as she clasped her hands in delight, as though the hour of her brother's deliverance was at hand. "How can we reach him? surely you can help us?" "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. "Had not lost an arm?" said Dick. "No, he had both his arms," said the jailer. "And his name," said Dick, "was Victor?"