The horse was brought to the water’s edge, the boat came across, Corny and his horse were in; and Corny, with his own hands on the oar, pushed away from land: then calling to Harry, he bid him wait on the shore _by_ such an hour, and he should have the first news. “Rest on your oars, you, while I speak to Prince Harry. “That you may know all, Harry, sooner than I can tell you, if all be safe, or as we wish it, see, I’ll hoist my neckcloth, _white_, to the top of this oar; if not, the _black_ flag, or none at all, shall tell you. Say nothing till then--God bless you, boy!” Harry was glad that he had these orders, for he knew that as soon as Mademoiselle should be up, and hear of O’Tara’s early visit, with the message he said he had left at the house that he brought _great news_, Mademoiselle would soon sally forth to learn what that news might be. In this conjecture Ormond was not mistaken. He soon heard her voice “Mon-Dieu!-ing” at the top of the bank: he ducked--he dived--he darted through nettles and brambles, and escaped. Seen or unseen he escaped, nor stopped his flight even when out of reach of the danger. As to trusting himself to meet Dora’s eyes, “‘twas what he dared not.” He hid, and wandered up and down, till near dinner-time. At last, O’Shane’s boat was seen returning--but no white flag! The boat rowed nearer and nearer, and reached the spot where Harry stood motionless. “Ay, my poor boy, I knew I’d find you so,” said O’Shane, as he got ashore. “There’s my hand, you have my heart--I wish I had another hand to give you--but it’s all over with us, I fear. Oh! my poor Dora!--and here she is coming down the bank, and the aunt!--Oh, Dora! you have reason to hate me!” “To hate you, sir? Impossible!” said Ormond, squeezing his hand strongly, as he felt. “Impossible!--true--for _her_ to hate, who is all love and loveliness!--impossible too for _you_, Harry Ormond, who is all goodness!” “Bon Dieu!” cried Mademoiselle, who was now within exclamation distance. “What a _course_ we have had after you, gentlemen! Ladies looking for gentlemen!--C’est inouï!--What is it all? for I am dying with curiosity.” Without answering Mademoiselle, the father, and Harry’s eyes, at the same moment, were fixed on one who was some steps behind, and who looked as if dying with a softer passion. Harry made a step forward to offer his arm, but stopped short; the father offered his, in silence. “Can nobody speak to me?--Bien poli!” said Mademoiselle. “If you please, Miss O’Faley, ma’am,” cried a hatless footman, who had run after the ladies the wrong way from the house: “if you please, ma’am, will _she_ send up dinner now?” “Oui, qu’on serve!--Yes, she will. Let her dish--by that time she is dished, we shall be in--and have satisfied our curiosity, I hope,” added she, turning to her brother-in-law. “Let us dine first,” said Cornelius, “and when the cloth is removed, and the waiting-ears out of hearing, time enough to have our talk to ourselves.”